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He walked across the room as if in a trance. She said something to him, but he didn't hear the words. He just kept moving slowly, inexorably to her side.
Caroline's lips parted slightly in surprise. Blake was acting most oddly. It was as if his mind were somewhere else, and yet he was staring at her with the strangest intensity.
She whispered his name for what must have been the third time, but he made no response, and then he was right in front of her.
“Blake?”
He touched her cheek with a reverence that made her tremble.
“Is something wrong?”
“No,” he murmured. “No.”
“Then what—”
Whatever she'd meant to say was lost as he crushed her to him, his mouth capturing hers with ferocious tenderness. She felt one of his hands sink into her hair as the other roamed the length of her back before settling on the curve of her hip.
Then he moved to the small of her back, pulling her against his body until she could feel the force of his arousal. Her head lolled back as she moaned his name, and his lips moved to the line of her throat, kissing their way to the bodice of her gown.
She let out a little squeal when his hand slipped from her hip to her buttocks and squeezed, and the sound must have jolted him out of whatever spell he was under, because he suddenly froze, shook his head a little, and stepped back.
“I'm sorry,” he said, blinking. “I don't know what came over me.”
Her mouth fell open. “You're sorry?” He kissed her until she could barely stand and then he stopped and said he was sorry?
“It was the strangest thing,” he said, more to himself than to her.
“I didn't think it was that strange,” she muttered.
“I had to kiss you.”
“That's all?” she blurted out.
He smiled slowly. “Well, at first, yes, but now…”
“Now what?” she demanded.
“You're an impatient wench.”
She stamped her foot. “Blake, if you don't—”
“If I don't what?” he asked, his grin positively devilish.
“Don't make me say it,” she muttered, turning a rather bright shade of red.
“I think we'll save that for next week,” he murmured. “After all, you're still something of an innocent. But for now I think you'd better run.”
“Run?”
He nodded. “Fast.”
“Why?”
“You're about to find out.”
She skidded toward the door. “What if I want to get caught?”
“Oh, you definitely want to get caught,” he replied, advancing on her with the lithe grace of a born predator.
