To Distraction (Bastion Club 5)

Exploded as his mouth came down, hard, crushing, on hers.

Deverell fully intended to kiss her witless, to distract and overwhelm her, lay waste to her resistance until she softened and told him what he needed to know.

He fully expected to succeed.

Fully expected her to melt under the primitive onslaught and give in.

Instead, she started to fight him.

Which seemed ridiculous. She couldn’t…

But she was.

His mind locked on sensual conquest, it took him a good minute to realize, then accept that she was indeed struggling, albeit ineffectively.

That she was trying to escape, not simply resist.

That she was growing increasingly frantic.

He immediately lifted his head. Her breath sawed in, one step from hysterical panic. He eased his body back from hers but didn’t let her go.

Her eyes, open and wide, had locked on his face.

He couldn’t read their expression, but he saw enough—she was frightened, panicked. Afraid.

Of him.

To his intense surprise, his heart constricted and abruptly felt like lead.

But…confused, he frowned at her. His hand was still locked at her waist; the other held both of hers, but not hard enough to bruise.

And he hadn’t, even in those most forceful moments, gone as far as they had earlier that evening.

She sucked in a tight breath. Her wide-eyed gaze, that of prey

trapped by a predator, never shifted from his face. “Let me go. Now.”

Her voice quavered; gone was her earlier confidence—all hint of defiance.

It was very nearly a plea.

He complied instantly, releasing her hands and stepping back.

His heart sank further, but he remained nonplussed. Through the shrouding shadows he stared, trying from her face to get some hint of what was happening, trying to make sense of her fraught reaction.

Her hands fell to her sides, grasping the tree trunk. Her chest heaved as she dragged in another breath. He waited, unmoving, silent—not daring to do or say anything in case it was the wrong thing.

A minute ticked by.

On the surface she’d calmed, but he sensed she remained one small step from senseless panic. Slowly, carefully, her gaze trained on him the entire time, she pushed away from the tree.

He couldn’t bear that look. He’d never intended…she couldn’t think…He put out a hand to steady her. “Phoebe?”

She stepped quickly sideways, avoiding his hand as if he were a leper. “Stay away from me.”

The words were low, pained. They struck him like a blow.

He let his hand fall. Stood and watched, unmoving and silent, as she edged around him onto the path. Then she abruptly swung around and started for the house, her steps rushed and not quite steady.