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"Our engagement," she blurted out, gathering all her courage, "I came to tell you that our engagement is over."

He stepped closer to her and growled, "no, it is not. I do not agree to this."

She stomped her foot in annoyance. "Stop being so infuriating. I-I cannot do this. I thought I could, but I cannot."

He stepped even closer and that bare chest was suddenly in her face, his leather and spice scent filling her lungs. She had never wanted to lose her sense of smell so badly.

"What is going on, Lavinia?" Victor's voice was intimately low and she began to wonder if coming there had been a good idea. Perhaps she could have waited till he called on her to have this conversation.

"I am not the right fit for this. There are a dozen other girls that would make better duchesses than me. I-"

"You would make a perfect duchess."

"No, I will not."

He cupped her jaw. "How could you ever think that you would be anything less than absolutely perfect as my duchess? If that is your problem, then I hate to tell you that you have wasted your time coming here."

"Have I?" Her voice was shaky.

"Yes," he chuckled, a rumbly sound that settled southward and brought her alive in more ways than one. She shivered.

"Please, Victor. You must understand. I cannot be what you want me to be."

"I have only ever wanted you to be yourself."

She wanted to roar at him that he was a liar. He didn't want her love, which meant that he wanted her to become a different person. The sort of person that could swallow her feelings and forget they ever existed. The sort of person who didn't believe in love.

"N-no."

"Yes," he murmured into her ear. She was pressed into him now and the layers of cloth between them became insignificant.

Lavinia had never thought she was so pathetic and so weak, but here she was. She was supposed to be telling him that she was in love with him and that she couldn't be with him because she couldn't possibly marry a man who didn't love her.

"I need to say something," she tried, "something important."

"What is stopping you?"

He knew exactly what he was doing and the smile curving his mouth confirmed it.

"I cannot think when you are so close to me," she confessed, "I cannot marry you, Victor."

The man made a feral sound against the skin of her neck and buried his face into the junction between her neck and shoulders, "Say my name again. Say it."

"Victor," she gasped.

"Tell me why you cannot marry me," he commanded, "tell me."

"You will not touch me."

His hand settled on her hip, "I am touching you now."

Oh God. But he sure was, "yes, but there are other reasons why."

"What other reasons?"

How was she expected to remember when he was so close? With his hands on her hips and his breath fanning her skin?

"Please," she whispered, and those words shattered the remaining restraint between them. Lavinia didn't know who moved first but the next thing she knew, his mouth was on hers and she was being robbed of all breath. While simultaneously giving her his.