“If I kiss you…” Matthew’s voice was low, just over her ear. There was still a hard edge to it, but she focused on his words, not his tone. “You’ll let me leave unburdened by the fact that I’m running away from you?”
She opened her eyes. He was so close. If she leaned forward, she would be in his arms. “It will break my heart, but yes, I will.”
“All right,” he said. Then, inch by excruciating inch, he dropped his head. His eyes locked onto hers until only a breath separated their mouths. Then his lids drifted down until his eyes were closed. Her eyes followed suit and the world went dark.
An instant later, Matthew’s lips were on hers, soft, demanding nothing, only giving her what she’d asked for. The heat of him, and the tenderness of that light touch, engulfed her in warm steady flames. She reached her hands up to wrap them around his neck so she could return his gift, but his left hand grabbed one of her wrists and pulled it down.
His other hand, still in her hair, slid out of it and down to his side, then he straightened and pulled away from her. Her eyes flew open to find too much space between them, and Matthew looking at her like she was a sad little thing he’d taken pity on.
That was it. Her one kiss was over.
And it was nowhere near enough.
Lucy’s breathing was already ragged, despite Matthew’s kiss being the shortest one on human record. “That…” She sucked in some much-needed air, pulled her wrist away from him, and locked her hands together behind his neck. “Doesn’t count.”
He reached behind him and pried her fingers apart. “It counts.”
Lucy shook her head. “Play fair.”
His eyes raked over her face, but she must not have tempted him enough, for he pulled her hands down to her sides. “When have you ever played fair with me?”
She took hold of his hands and pulled him back into her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I haven’t, and if playing fair means you are walking out right now, I’ll continue to play unfairly.”
CHAPTER 22
All of his life,Matthew Harrison had been warned about women like the one who stood in front of him. He’d always wondered what kind of idiot would fall prey to a seductress who lied and deceived him. He’d thought the warnings had been unwarranted.
He’d been wrong.
He tried to be unaffected by her kiss, but her lips had been so soft. She’d been so responsive to his touch, he’d had to pull away almost as soon as he started. It nearly killed him, but dying might be preferable to letting the woman who called herself Miss Shroud manipulate him into showing how much he wanted her.
She was supposed to have been satisfied with that one kiss. She was supposed to have let him go, but instead, she’d coerced him into putting his hands on her again. Whatever strength he’d called upon to step away from her a moment ago burst into thousands of pieces of useless debris. The dam he’d been so careful to build up ever since he’d found out she’d been lying to him shattered.
He didn’t even know the name of the woman pushing his arms together around her waist, but if all of London burst in onthis little shed, he wouldn’t want to stop the tide that had just been unleashed. Not anymore.
He’d always known he was weak. He simply didn’t realize how weak until this moment. And more than that, he had no idea whyanyonewould want to be strong. He didn’t resist the way she locked his hands together behind her back. In fact, he pulled her tighter toward him. Her eyes widened as if she was surprised her plan had worked. She was so good at this, his little mystery woman.
She wanted to be kissed? Well then, he was about to kiss her so senseless she wouldn’t be able to get words out when he left her. There would be no telling him he’d played unfair.
Her hands slid slowly from his wrist to his elbow, her luminous dark eyes watching him as if one quick movement would scare him off. Two minutes ago, that might have been the case. Not anymore.
Her fingers took their time meandering over his upper arms in a way that made him grateful for every cartful of logs he’d loaded and unloaded over the years. He may not be able to marry this woman, but he was going to do his deuced best to impress her. Her fingers dug into the muscles at the back of his arm, and she pulled him to her. “Matth—” she started, but he would not hear his name out of her mouth again. Not when she wouldn’t even tell him hers. He crushed his mouth over hers, stealing his name from her lips.
The fingers at the back of his arms loosened, then found their way to his neck. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms so completely around her that she lifted off the ground. Marge whinnied somewhere behind him, but the sound barely registered. He pushed her solidly against the wall and pinned her there with his body, holding her there, suspended, with her face exactly at his level.
And he took advantage of it. He deepened the kiss, drinking in her petal-soft lips. She tasted of a spirit so strong he was instantly intoxicated. Ever since they’d been caught in the rain, perhaps even before that, he’d ached with the desire to hold this woman. She’d robbed him of sleep, invaded his quiet life, and stolen into his thoughts when all he’d wanted was to separate himself from any kind of human connection. But she barged her way in, even now. When he thought he might scare her away with the force of his longing, she was holding on to him, gripping his hair and laying claim to him just as desperately as he was to her.
The world faded and time blurred. They might have stayed frantically exploring each other’s mouths indefinitely if she weren’t forced to break away and lift her chin so she could gasp for air. She inhaled, exposing her neck and collarbones to him. He didn’t need to breathe—not when he had her in his arms. He trailed kisses down her neck, reveling in her reactions to him, small noises that rose from her throat, her hands digging even deeper into his scalp.
He dragged his mouth from her neck to her collarbone, but when his mouth hit cold silver, the part of his mind he’d been ignoring jumped to life. What kind of temptress would kiss a man while wearing a locket with another man’s picture in it? He pulled the chain into his mouth and pulled it taunt against her neck. He caught her eyes, resentment simmering beneath his skin. She met his eyes without any sort of shame. Matthew clamped down harder with his teeth, wanting nothing more than to tear the necklace from her neck with a jerk of his head and demand she leave it on the floor of Marge’s shed.
He stopped himself. The chain felt strong, and he didn’t want to injure the back of her neck. She must have seen the fire in his eyes, though. She might be convincing him to throw everythingaway because of this kiss, but she would have to throw some things away, herself. Starting with this locket.
He let the chain fall from his mouth. They would deal with that later. Right now, he had more pressing matters. He was dying to whisper her name against her warm skin while trailing kisses back up to her mouth. But he didn’t even know it.
He no longer cared. Not about the locket, and not about her name. Not enough, at any rate.
Besides, he was fairly certain his mouth had forgotten how to do anything but kiss the woman in front of him. Most of his body had ceased functioning properly. His mind was so impaired, he couldn’t even stay mad about her wearing another man’s likeness around her neck. His lungs couldn’t keep enough air in them, and his heart was beating so erratically it might give out on him.
