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“Did you like the gift?” he asked it as if he had planned on doing so as soon as he got a chance.
The gruff tone bathed her in delectation which made her eyes focus on his. “Yes, thank you.” The simple answer did not disguise the faint smile at the memory of the book.
He did not miss it. “Good to know.”
Edmund continued there, staring down at her, an ocean of memories and other unmentionable emotions flowing between them.
“I forbid you from having private conversations with Carlton.” He issued the sudden order dry and irrefutable.
Her delicate brows pleated. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he insisted.
The man had the power to raise her temper in a few seconds. “What you forbid or do not forbid has nothing to do with me.” At least, said temper afforded her the will to go against him.
“No man will touch a woman of mine.” The scowl only caused him to look even more enthralling.
“Good, because I am not yours, anyway,” she countered firmly.
“Is that so?” The silky question did not fool her. It smothered fury. And something else flaring in him akin to hunger.
Otilia registered the heat coming from him and wondered if he had come closer.
“You have no right to interfere with my life.” The effort to concentrate on the conversation started to get straining.
“Now that you uncovered the delights of the bedchamber, you intend to repeat them?” The scornful side-smirk brought her attention to his lips. She held ample awareness of what those lips were capable of doing to her.
Her chin lifted defiantly. “What if I do?” She did not, naturally. The idea alone disgusted her.
“Over my dead body!” Forceful, possessive. Incisive.
“We parted ways, remember?” She met his scowl with one of her own. “You have no say in what I do.”
“Look me in the eye and tell me I am not your man.” He observed her with single-minded intent.
His taunt washed her in a sizzling flush arrowing straight down to her core. She would tell him no such thing. As for thinking it…
His black irises pierced her, unleashing conflicting responses. The vexation at his order vanished as fast as it rose, replaced by more insidious emotions.
They both stood there for so long that she lost track of time.
“I should go back.” The faint whisper mocked her words.
His breath caressed her cheeks, and she became certain he had come even closer. They stood inches apart, and that insubordinate body of hers would turn to melted butter in seconds. Air hitched in her throat.
He did not heed her. “You miss me just as much I miss you.” His hands braced on the wall on either side of her head.
The arrogant blackguard. That he stated it and did not ask a question said a lot about him. “I—”
But then he leaned his body on her, the pressure unleashing a chain reaction of scalding steam and a slackening of her muscles. She shut her eyelids tight in a ragged attempt to resist the onslaught his mere presence launched. But with her eyes closed, the scent of him, the heat of him, and the—oh!—hardness of him made her weaker, pliant.
Those sculpted lips grazed her ear together with his serrated breath. And the bristles that always drove her mad. “Kiss me, Otilia.” The command intensified her response to him, making it nearly impossible not to give in to the paradise his taut frame promised.
Her poor lungs took in jagged air, but her mind continued to fog, and her body was almost too obedient to him. There was nothing she wanted more at that second than to obey him. Glue her mouth to his and feast on it as if it was the last meal of a convicted criminal. Nibble those masculine lips, lick the seam and suckle on the lower delicacy. She wanted to invade him in the farthest way possible. Entangle their tongues. Entangle her fingers in his sleek hair. Entangle her legs with his.
But she did not. Something in her stopped it though she did not know what as yet.
Their gazes merged in the dim light in a battle of wills.
