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She swallowed, feeling as if she was losing ground somehow.

He leaned forward, his warm breath caressing her ear. “I don’t mind the idea of marrying someone I can’t stop thinking about fucking,” he said quietly.

Her breath stopped up in her chest. She should push him away. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. She knew what a hypocrite that would make her. She hadn’t stopped thinking about what had happened between them. She still wanted him.

“It’s not enough to base a marriage on,” she said instead.

“I’m aware. I heard all the reasons I’m not good enough. We wouldn’t suit. I’m arrogant, among other things on your list. I’m not enough.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. It’s been clear since the woods–” He pressed a finger against her racing pulse. “But, I believe you want me as much as I want you.” He moved so their bodies were pressed together, his thighs rustling her layered skirts. “I want to hear you tell me you don’t want me,” he whispered and pressed his lips to the pulse in her neck. “Deny it.”

“I don’t want you.” But the words were weak, said on a breath. Then she negated them by tilting her head so he could have better access.

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her.

Angry at her own traitorous body and at him for being right, she pushed at his chest. He stepped back as she fell onto the mattress. “You are an arrogant, presumptuous ass.”

“Now who’s lying?” he asked from above her.

She lifted her chin and willed the words out, but instead of ‘I don’t want you,’ the words “I hate you” came out instead.

“Another lie.”

She watched as his shadow crouched in front of her. Then, with his hands on her hips, he yanked her toward him, settling in between her thighs as best as he could, given her skirts.

“Hate me then,” he whispered, squeezing her ribs with his large hands, running them up to frame her breasts.

Her lungs filled with longing, slowing her breath, and she arched against his touch.

“Show me how much you hate me.”

Without a thought, Tarley shoved her hands into his hair and crashed her lips into his. She moaned into his mouth, kissing him with all her pent-up frustration.

A rumble left him, from somewhere deep in his chest, reverberating through hers.

“Yes,” he groaned and dragged his mouth from hers to her jaw, to her neck.

“I hate that you can do this to me.”

“Fuck, Tarley.” He grabbed her breast and kneaded. “I need to feel you.”

She grabbed his head and held him as his tongue found one of her nipples, licking, sucking, biting it through the fabric, then moving to the opposite side.

Reaching between them, she rubbed a hand down the front of his trousers, seeking the heat of his cock. “Do you feel me?”

He grunted. “Not enough,” he panted.

She fumbled with his belt until she could wrap her hand around his silken heat. “Oh,” she said into his mouth. This was the first time she’d touched a man. The first time she’d felt such a soft and yet unyielding thing. “I don’t know how–”

He groaned but moved away from her touch.

Her chest heaved with unspent need. “What’s wrong?”

“This heat, Tarley,” he started, then paused. “Why am I so objectionable?” he asked quietly.

“It isn’t you–”