She touched his
arm, and his control shattered. Whipping around, he grabbed her shoulders. Her
eyes went wide as he pushed her against the wall, crushing her with his body.
“Is this what you
want?” he demanded. “To see me lose control as that poor bastard fiancé of
yours did? Remember that I, too, suffer under Saffira’s curse.”
Unexpectedly, he
felt her relax between him and the cold wall. His own tension coiled tighter as
her supple form curved to his rigid one.
“I don’t believe
you want to hurt me,” she whispered. “I don’t believe you can.”
Her lips were so
close to his, he could taste the flavor of her breath. It swirled through his
head like smoke, coiled down into his gut, intensifying the craving that he
could scarcely control. Only with her did he feel human. Only with her was he
free even within his own mind.
And yet he could
not let her take this step out of guilt. To allow that would be an affront to
them both.
“You said the same
about the American.”
Her gaze touched
his lips. “He wasn’t himself.”
“But I am me.”
“I know.” She
slipped her arms around his waist and lifted her lips to his.
Nicholas would
gladly have died then. The love he tasted on her sweet lips eased his tortured
soul with the flavor of nectar. Heaven-sent, she was, and he knew she’d never
kissed Terrell or any other man in this way. Her fingers were still against his
back, her body barely touching his. Only her lips moved, and they did so barely
parted, innocent and soft, as if she had no inkling of their sensuous power. Resistance
faltering beneath her innocent onslaught, he eased his cruel grip, and his
hands slipped between her and the stone wall. Holding her close, he deepened
the kiss, easing her lips apart, tasting fully of what she so sweetly offered…what
he so desperately craved.
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