“Don’t—lie,” she said finally. “Not now. Not about this.”
“You know I’m not lying.” He brought one hand to cup the back of her head. His knuckles scraped the stone behind her. “You know I mean every word. You are a goddamned strike of lightning, Ruby Ballimore, and you scare me witless. Wordless. Out of my mind.”
Her fingers—bare now—slipped up his shoulder and found the back of his neck. Her touch was warm and light, and he was fevered. Dizzy with temptation.
“You’ve never been wordless a day in your life,” she whispered.
And—oh the hell with it. The hell with all of it.
He tightened his grip on her waist. Pushed her back against the rock with his body. And kissed her.
* * *
Ruby felt everything.
Cool wet sand beneath her bare foot. His palm cradling the back of her head. The rough slab of stone behind her, and the press of his body, hard and heated, into hers.
His kiss was delicate, probing—at odds with the powerful grip he had on her body. He tasted of salt, of sea air, and she wanted him. Wanted more.
His tongue touched the corner of her mouth, and her belly turned over. She shoved her fingers into the soft weight of his hair and parted her lips beneath his. A hot throb pulsed through her body. Her nerves felt sensitized, every movement of his mouth sparking tension in her limbs, knotting desire deep within her.
She wanted to tell him to put his tongue in her mouth. She wanted to take whatever he wished to give.
Instead he pulled back. Opened up space between their bodies. He looked flushed—a little wild. His throat was pink.
His fingers were still locked in the ribbon at her waist.
“Ruby,” he gritted out. “I can’t—”
“Oh no,” she said. “Absolutely not.”
He paused. “What?”
“Don’t you dare. This is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me. Don’t you evendreamof ruining it.”
He stared at her—it was offensive to the mortal world, she thought, that he should still be so handsome while also thunderstruck and befuddled. And then, very slowly, his long, wicked mouth curled up. His dimples made tiny shadows in the fading light.
His smile was awful. Terrible. She fancied itsomuch.
She curled her fingers into his hair and dragged his mouth back down toward hers.
He came willingly. He made a hot, rough little sound into her mouth, and it worked like a spark to tinder, catching, flaring, curling up through her whole body.
His mouth was harder now, fiercer, more delicious. She pushed up into him, her breasts crushed against his chest and her mouth open to his. Her skin felt tight; all her body seemed taut and aching.
He licked at her lips. Sucked. His hand behind her head had gone from careful cradle to eager demand, pulling her into him. His fingers at her waist spread wider and his thumb brushed the bottom edge of her breast.
She caught her breath. Thought:Yes.
He broke their kiss, but only to move his mouth to her neck. “I want you,” he muttered. “I wantthis. I’ve goddamned dreamed of this.” With each word, his lips brushed her skin.
She shivered and gave herself up to the surge of her need.
“I want it too,” she said. She stroked the back of his neck, the soft weight of his hair, then dipped her hands down to his shoulders. He was muscled there, and right now rigid with tension. Holding himself in check.
She liked that too. She felt drunk on the notion that he desired her; that he had to hold himself back from what he might wish to do.
She touched his back, then slid her hand down his side. He groaned and pressed close to her, and she felt the rigid length of his erection against her belly. He licked her ear, and she gasped. Sensation pierced her, a hot current that landed between her thighs.
