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“No,” she said, reaching within herself to find the courage she needed to speak to him so plainly. “You're not angry with me. You're angry with yourself, and I'm convenient.”
His head tilted slightly in her direction. “You think you're very observant, don't you?”
“How am I supposed to answer that?”
“You're observant, but not, I think, enough to save yourself from me.” He leaned forward, his smile dangerous. “Do you know how much I want you?”
Her voice lost to her, she shook her head.
“I want you so much I lie awake every night, my body hard and aching with need.”
Her throat went dry.
“I want you so much the scent of you makes my skin tingle with desire.”
Her lips parted.
“I want you so much—” The night air filled with his angry laughter. “I want you so damned much I forgot about Marabelle.”
“Oh, Blake. I'm sorry.”
“Spare me your pity.”
She started to stand up. “I'll go. It's what you want, and you're clearly in no state for conversation.”
But he grabbed her and pulled her back down. “Didn't you hear me?”
“I heard every word,” she whispered.
“I don't want you to go.”
She said nothing.
“I want you.”
“Blake, don't.”
“Don't what? Don't kiss you?” He swooped down and kissed her hard on the mouth. “Too late.”
She stared at him, not certain if she should be scared or elated. She loved him; she was sure of that now. But he wasn't acting like himself.
“Don't touch you?” His hand snaked over her midriff and along her hip. “I'm far too gone for that.”
His lips found her jaw, then her neck, then nibbled on her ear. She tasted sweet and clean, and smelled vaguely like the lather he used to shave. He wondered what she'd been doing with herself up in his bathroom, then decided he didn't much care. There was something wildly satisfying about smelling his scent on her.
“Blake,” she said, her voice lacking conviction, “I'm not certain this is what you really want.”
“Oh, I'm certain,” he said with a masculine laugh. “I'm very certain.” He pressed his hips against her as he worked her hair free of its fastenings. “Can't you feel how certain I am?”
He moved his mouth to hers and devoured her, his tongue skimming first along the line of her teeth, then moving to the soft skin of her inner cheek.
“I want to touch you,” he said, his words a soft breath against her mouth. “Everywhere.”
Her dress was flimsy, with few buttons and bows, and it took mere seconds for him to push it over her head, leaving her clad only in a thin chemise. His body tightened yet again as he hooked his fingers under the thin straps that held up the soft slip of silk.
“Did I buy this for you?” he asked, his voice hoarse beyond recognition.
She nodded, gasping as one of his large hands closed over her breast. “When you got me the dresses. It was in one of the boxes you brought back from town.”
