It made kissing him the most important thing in her world too.
Pushing into him, Thea fumbled for his hair, his shirt, needing to hold him tight, tug him closer. His tongue touched hers, sending new and exciting sensations swirling through her. Again she had that odd fancy—that his kisses entered her body like living things and gathered between her thighs, where they bounced around eagerly, making her tingle and hum as she yearned both to let them out and hold them in.
With a groan, he slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her against him as he kissed her deep and hard. He was everywhere, engulfing her, stoking her senses until they clamored with craving. He made another growl-like sound, deep in his throat, and she pressed harder into him, wanting more of that sound. More of him. The taste and feel of him were new, unimagined, splendid, and she needed more, more, always more.
Her hand slid inside his shirt. That was new and exciting too, and demanded exploration: the satiny skin, the firm muscles, the heat that was so like and so unlike her own. One of his thighs pressed against her, and she pushed into him, craving more of that hardness.
Then abruptly, he released her and stumbled away, robbing her of his heat, leaving her clutching at air.
Thea tried to breathe. She did not want to breathe. She wanted him.
But he was backing away, all the while hissing between clenched teeth.
“Rafe? What’s wrong? What did I do?”
He shook his head, holding up one hand in a gesture of “wait.” His mouth worked, and when he spoke again, it was in the hoarse, airless whisper of a man holding his breath.
“Tangerines.”
Giggles bubbled up inside her and she struggled to smother them, as Rafe stumbled away. He turned his back to her, rested his forehead on a pillar, and slipped his fingers into his breeches. Thea craned her neck to look, then remembered herself and sat back on the bench.
“Um.” The sound came out breathy and unsteady, matching the rest of her. “I hope the tangerines did no damage.”
“Simply…a little crowded in there.”
He tossed the offending fruit to the side, and Thea hastily averted her eyes. She smoothed down her skirts, as if that might soothe her unruly body, while he stood motionless, his forehead still resting on the pillar.
Then he thumped the pillar with one fist. He muttered something that sounded like, “I keep forgetting. One look and I forget,” and once more he thumped the pillar, the muscles in his back shifting under his shirt.
This was not about the tangerines anymore.
Thea waited. No words came to mind, and she occupied her restless hands by rearranging her clothing. She tugged up her bodice, brushed off the dirt, and shook out her skirts. Straightened and breathed and squeezed her tormented thighs.
All the while, Rafe faced away. His broad back rose and fell with his deep breaths, and by the time he finally turned around, Thea was settled enough to perch on the bench, gripping its edges.
His expression was pained. Too late, she remembered he believed they were married, and she’d have a hard time putting him off because clearly she did not want to put him off. But she had to put him off, because…because…oh yes, because he thought she was Helen, and they weren’t truly married, and soon she would leave, and while she was eager for adventures, she had not anticipated an adventure like this. As she fumbled for words to delicately imply it was that time of the month, he spoke in a harsh rasp.
“I can’t. I can’t.”
“Oh. Oh.”
Oh no. How naive of her, not to read the clues. Never having children, he said. Ignoring his bride. Never demanding his conjugal rights. Needing medicine to ease his pain. Indifferent to his wife’s lineage.
When he said “I can’t,” it must be because he couldn’t.
The poor man. No wonder he was grumpy.
“Was it the jaguar?” she asked softly.
“Hmm?”
“Did the giant cat maul your orchids?”
His chin jerked up, his eyes widened. She might have turned into a giant cat herself, he looked so taken aback.
Then he blinked, rapidly, before his face settled into a fierce glower.
“I assure you, my orchids are fine.”
“Oh. Good. Um.”
“I mean, we…” He half laughed and ran a hand through his hair. It came away dirty and he blinked at the soil with surprise. “I promised to wait. So. My apologies.”
Without another word, he strode out of the greenhouse, leaving Thea alone with the plants and their knowing looks.
By the time Thea arrived back at the house, cloak wrapped tight around her dirt-smeared dress, she was thinking more rationally again. And rational thought informed her that she had to leave.
Now. Today. Tonight.