“I think you’re avoiding the business.” Not even threat of damnation could stop his voice shaking.
She kissed his jaw. “Just preparing the ground.”
This time when her mouth met his, he was incapable of denial. His lips parted and her tongue darted in to taste him. He groaned low in his throat. She tensed and withdrew. As if seeking assurance that he was a better man than she thought, she stared at him. Tragically he could offer no such confirmation. Even more tragically he wanted her so badly, he almost promised to change, to prove himself worthy.
This had started as a morning’s game. Now all urge to tease vanished. And still the wordless conversation continued.
I want you.
You can’t have me.
I need you.
You’re not worthy of me.
That’s true. Still you desire me.
Yes, still I desire you.
He heard her sharply indrawn breath. Then, slowly, oh, so slowly, she leaned in to place her mouth on his, soft as the brush of air across an angel’s wing.
Jonas wasn’t by nature a gentle man. Since violence had shattered his childhood, tenderness was unknown. Building his business empire had only fortified his ruthlessness. Since his father’s death, he hadn’t cared for anyone. He’d believed the carapace around his kinder emotions so thick, he never would. Sidonie’s kiss stabbed straight to the heart he’d considered impregnable.
She flicked her tongue along his lips and this time, he let her in. On a sigh, she kissed him with unfettered pleasure. Sidonie was a quick learner. Damn him if she wasn’t. Groaning, he yielded. His arms wound around her, dragging her down
to sprawl across him. Until now, for all his seductive maneuvering, he’d been careful about scaring her. But she’d pushed him beyond restraint. She moaned and met his passion. He rolled her under him and hauled the covers off with a shaking hand. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had made him shake. Sidonie made him shake.
Smoothly he slid between her legs, the robe rucking up. Ruthlessly he shoved the silk nightgown aside until his hand met her thigh. He wasn’t the only one shaking. In his embrace, she trembled like a leaf in a gale.
Very slowly so he didn’t alarm her, he trailed his hand upward. The prospect of touching her center made him burn. His fingers curved over her mound and tangled in damp curls. He slid his hand into slippery heat, bathing his fingers in her desire. She gasped with shock and wrenched away, panting.
Damn it, too fast, too hard, too much.
“No… wait.” Her voice was broken as he’d never heard it. She placed one hand against his chest. Under her palm, his heart flipped like a landed trout.
He placed his hand over hers. His voice was rough. “Are you content to stop there?”
She raised a troubled gaze to his face. Whatever she saw offered no consolation, he immediately recognized. His arm still encircled her. He’d need mere seconds to bring her against him. “Sidonie, give me your consent,” he prompted when she stared at him as though he constituted her greatest fear—and greatest desire.
The uncertainty in her eyes intensified. “I can’t.”
“You want to.”
A faint line appeared between her brows. “You’re the voice of temptation.”
He looked into her beautiful face, the heavy-lidded dark eyes, the flushed cheeks, the reddened lips he’d tasted so thoroughly. A plea surged up from his soul. “Relent, tesoro. Relent. And save us both from insanity.”
She stiffened against his attempt to draw her closer and her stare was uncompromising. “You gave me your word the decision was mine.”
He cupped her jaw. Those unwavering eyes continued to study him. Oh, hell and damnation. He surrendered with a sigh. “If you leave this house untouched, amore mio, we’ll both be sorry.”
The tension drained from her face and she softened in his hold until she was again the fluid, responsive woman who had kissed him within an inch of his life. This time he knew better than to restrain her when she slipped from the bed. He bit back an appeal for her to stay with him. If his life depended on it, he couldn’t say whether he wanted her to stay an hour, a day, or forever.
Sidonie wandered along the beach, gazing out to the horizon. How could she have been so foolhardy with Merrick that morning? She was lucky he’d kept his promise and let her go. A man of his worldly experience must have guessed how close she came to yielding, good sense be hanged.
In spite of the sun, the wind was sharp. The sea was a vista of whitecaps. Brisk afternoon breeze whipped her hair around her face. Her half-boots crunched on the sand as she marched away from Castle Craven. And its enigmatic owner.
Merrick hadn’t joined her on her walk. In every way that counted, he’d been absent from her all day. Since their passionate interlude in the bedroom, he’d withdrawn, playing again the charming host, the interesting raconteur. Superficially his urbane manner remained unchanged between today and yesterday in the library. But she knew—she knew—he deliberately widened the gulf between them. Briefly this morning, they’d shared more than desire. Something breathtaking. Something of soul as well as body. He’d since recoiled from all emotional intimacy.