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I stood so abruptly the glass rattled in the pan; then I marched across the floor and dumped the refuse in with the rest.
When I turned he was right there, and I jumped back, banging my tailbone against the counter. He took the broom, the dustpan, out of my hands, setting them aside.
"Claire," he murmured. "Don't be afraid. "
"I - I'm not. "
He leaned forward, nuzzling my neck, his breath brushing my collarbone, making me shiver. His mouth slid upward, caressing my jaw, hovering near my ear. "You are," he whispered.
He touched me nowhere, but he was so close everywhere. I found myself straining forward - wanting, needing, desiring him.
His erection brushed my stomach, just a hint, so minute I wasn't even certain he had in truth touched me. He grazed my jugular with his teeth, and I gasped, the sound pure arousal. I wanted to grab his head, pull it to my breast, let him suckle me as he lifted me onto the countertop and plunged into me again and again until we both came screaming.
Whoa! Where had that come from? Even "before," I'd never been one to get naked anywhere but the bedroom. And screaming? Sex wasn't all that.
"I want you more than I've wanted any woman in. . . aeons. " The word whispered across my skin. "But we'll take it as slow as you wish. "
I stilled. "What?"
"Some men are animals. I am not. "
I shoved at his chest, and he moved away. Stalking to the floor-length windows, I glanced outside where the citronella tapers still blazed merrily, their light not strong enough to penetrate the thick forest surrounding the deck. "You were in the woods. "
"Yes," he said simply.
I spun around. "You were listening?"
He spread his long-fingered hands. "I dinna mean to. "
"A gentleman would not eavesdrop. "
"There are no gentlemen anymore. "
He had that right.
"Get out," I said.
Cartwright started toward me, and my eyes widened.
At first I thought he meant to grab me, shake me. It had happened before. But then I realized he meant to leave, just as I'd asked, but I was standing in his way.
I sidestepped, tripping over my own feet, and he steadied me with gentle hands. "I would never have - " He stopped, took a breath, tried again. "I would never have been so forceful with you earlier if I'd known. "
"I'm not made of glass," I muttered.
"But you are. Spun fine in fire. Hard enough to keep out the rain and the wind. " His knuckle rapped against the pane. "Fragile enough to shatter if handled poorly. "
He reached for the handle, and suddenly I didn't want him to go. When I touched his wrist, his gaze met mine. Desire leaped between us, so strong, so strange.
"Fire is sacred to the Rom," he murmured, and his eyes trailed over my red hair.
"I thought it punished evil. "
His lips tilted. "That, too. My ancestors worshipped the fire. " He lifted his hand slowly and trailed it down my cheek. "As well as the moon. "
I couldn't stop staring into his dark, dark eyes. There were secrets there. But I was so tired of being alone, so tired of being scared, so tired of never wanting anyone, and now I wanted him. I couldn't help it. I pressed my mouth to his.
Warm. Sweet. Soft. He let me take the lead, hanging back, making me follow, allowing me to be the aggressor, and I liked it.
