Page 34

Part of her had wanted exactly this. Fantasizedthis.
Him finding her. Pursuing her. Not letting her refusals stand. Because she couldn’t allow herself to give in, but if he…
He moved toward her and she was…trapped, essentially. In the pantry. Any retreat would require pushing past him.
“I find sleep difficult when I have…other things on my mind as well,” he said, too close now. So she could feel the heat radiating off of him. So they werebothin this pantry room. “What were you thinking about, Lynna?”
He reached out, touched a strand of her hair, then tucked it behind her ear, tracing the shell of it. A shudder of feeling went through her. How could that be such a jolt, such a pleasure? It was simple. Herear?
And what if he touched you other places?
She tried to shake her head, but it wouldn’t move. She was transfixed. By the shadows on his face in this dim room. By the sound of his breathing—not quite controlled. By the way his scent—something piney and luxurious—seemed to overtake any food smells in here.
She hadnotcome down here hoping for this. She had come here for…
His hand cupped her jaw. His body was against hers now.
She could push him away, for a second she wondered if that’s what he was waiting for, in this moment where he simply stood there and held her face. Then his head bowed.
“Let me taste you,” he whispered, his breath dancing across her mouth.
She shouldn’t let this happen. She certainly shouldn’t leantowardhim like she was eager and willing and—
And then his mouth touched hers. How easy it was to forget one’s entire moral compass when lips like his were involved. Sure and in control, as though she didn’t have to worry about anything except melting into him.
When she always had to worry aboutsomething.
But her mind simply…emptied. The heat of it all was incomprehensible. How she could be at the center of such a range of things and still be whole? Herself?
She wasn’t cognizant of dropping the cookies or her phone, didn’t even mourn the loss. Her fingers were too busy finding purchase in the soft cotton of his shirt as his tongue swept into her mouth.
It was wild and maybe desperate. A lack of control from both of them. Like the wedding, but more. Because this had been building. He’d made it build over the past week and she’d tried to put it off, but all she’d done was give more kindling to the fire, so it erupted bigger and hotter and more devastating. A wildfire burning through her.
Dimly, she was aware he unknotted the tie in her robe, that it was tugged off her arms. That losing her grip on his shirt meant she needed a grip onsomething, and maybe that should be his face. The rough prickle of a day’s growth under her palms. A sensory overload, here in hispantry.
His mouth slid down her neck. His hands were huge and gripped her waist. His mouth a sensual assault against the sensitive crook of her neck. She was shivering, panting, desperate for something she knew she should not want. Not with him. Never with him.
Then she felt the warmth of his handsunderthe soft, thin material of her pajama shirt. His fingers splayed wide, he slid those large palms up her sides, eliciting sparks and an unfurling of need so potent she didn’t know how anyone survived this.
His fingers stopped just under her breasts. Her skin tingled everywhere, and she didn’t know how to move, how to get him to touch her. Everywhere. Anywhere. More.
Except, she should push him away. Stop this madness. His mouth was on her shoulder, and she could almost…almostthink.
“Is this what you want, Lynna?”
She did and she didn’t. It was too much and not enough. How would she live with herself if she went through with this?
How would she live if he did not push her across this delicate edge? His thumbs brushed against the underside of her breasts and she did not recognize the sound that escaped her, so close to surrender and freedom—two things she could not allow herself.
Ever.
“If it’s not, tell me to stop, Lynna,” he said, a low, luring rumble against her skin. But then he pulled away, looked her right in the eye. His mouth was amused, arrogant.
She wanted to punch him.
Kiss him. Forever.
“If you don’t want it, simply say the word.Stop.”