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Since Willa’s arrival, life had been a clusterfuck like I hadn’t experienced in ten fucking years, leaving me ignorant to the exact moment when she’d gone from being Jack’s-daughter-turned-Tiernan’s-widow to being the only woman I’d ever felt something for other than indifference or lust.
We’d already crossed a line we couldn’t erase. And so far, she seemed comfortable with that truth. She’d been quiet on the drive from Dorchester to the estate, but every time we made eye contact, her fingers twisted on her lap and her breathing grew shallow.
Willa didn’t want to be alone tonight. But a one-night-stand—as off-putting a label that it was—was all this could ever be. If we gave in to our desires—if I brought Willa into my bed—would she have regrets? Could I live with myself if she did?
As though she’d heard my thoughts, she slipped in front of me and leaned back against the door. One glimpse of her beautiful face and her bewitching eyes and my moral quandary lost traction.
Even though I knew I couldn’t keep her, I wanted her.
I wanted Willa so fucking bad.
She batted her feathery lashes. “Don’t think too hard, Satan.” The tip of her finger skimmed over the scar on my lower lip, sending all my blood rushing south. “We’re both realists. We both know this may be the only chance we ever get in this lifetime.”
Only someone raised in this life could make light of our circumstances. It served as a reminder that there was no turning back on any front after tonight.
Raphael had practically declared civil war. Everyone who’d been in that warehouse tonight was well aware of the instability that lay ahead.
My gaze dropped to her sweet mouth—a perfect bow on top of a pillowy pout.
I wasn’t a monk, but I’d never kissed a woman before.
The act of kissing required a level of physicality I’d never been interested in. I’d always considered it too intimate. Too claiming.
So why did it feel like if I didn’t kiss Willa in the next breath my lungs would implode?
“I’ve never kissed a woman,” I admitted.
I hadn’t anticipated her reaction, but I wasn’t prepared for the big grin directed at me either.
Only, it wasn’t out of jest.
Willa’s expression was a mixture of awe and relief. And was that a hint of hunger flashing in her eyes?
Fucking hell.
I was delusional if I thought one night with Willa would be enough.
She shook her head gently, her smile still in place. “I’ve never kissed a man because my heart wanted to.” Before I could process the full meaning of her words, Willa shrugged, then pressed onto her toes. “I guess this is my chance.”
The heat of her soft lips took me by surprise, but nothing in my life had ever felt this natural. This right.
She tugged me down by the shoulders. Her tongue was cautious and curious at first, growing more confident with each stroke until it collided with mine and the two found a passionate rhythm.
She tasted like candy. Her vanilla scent filtered through my nostrils.
I closed my eyes and absorbed every drop of her vulnerability as my fingers weaved into her hair to deepen the kiss. She fed me her moans, and I swallowed them down, begging for more with every lick, suck, and nibble.
In three decades, I’d never wanted anything that belonged to Raphael. I’d lived a life of willpower and solitude to survive my debt of duty while he rose to the top with little blood on his hands and a conscience free of guilt and shame.
I had nothing. He had everything.
He had Willa.
But she wants me.
One of her hands fell away, and then the door opened and Willa was retreating across the threshold.
My first fucking kiss had ended long before I wanted it to be over.
