He stilled.
“You said I didn’t trust you. But I did. You were—youare—the only person I trust.”
She didn’t move, and neither did he. Better that he remained facing away, where the sight of her couldn’t overthrow him.
“But I didn’t plan for you, either.”
He sucked in a breath. No, she hadn’t planned for it. They were both cogs in a machine neither of them had much control over. Faulty parts trying to change things.
“But I know I wouldn’t have fallen for you if not for your heart.”
He turned slowly, raised his eyebrows mockingly. “My heart?”
“Yes,” she said, obstinate. “It’s in there. I saw it.”
“Bet it weren’t a pretty picture.”
She sighed. “You’re not nearly as wretched as you think you are.”
“You don’t know the half of it, Scurry girl,” he told her. “You only know what I could stomach tellin’ you.”
“Then tell me,” she said, stepping toward him. Imploring him. “You think I’ll flinch? Tell me what you did to those coppers.”
“Burned them alive,” he relented, his voice now ice.
To her credit, she didn’t flinch. Instead, a wildness came over her. He thought she was seeing, once more, those hundreds of corpses waiting in the snow. “I hope it was slow,” she said. “I hope they felt every second of it.”
The ground beneath their feet gave the softest of tremors. She eyed the newsprint discarded on the ground, and her breath pulsed out in clouds. “They should all burn.”
He felt caught up, suddenly, in that same fervency. A longing to descend into the madness of it with her.
Her eyes were closing. She was pacing in a tight circle now, shaking out her arms. He took several steps in her direction but stopped short of her.
“Sometimes I want to tear off my own skin,” she said, tipping her head back, snatching cold air into her lungs. “I feel so angry.”
“You sound like a miner.”
“How do you tolerate it?” She was practically begging for an answer, pulling at her own clothes like they were suffocating her.
“Booze,” said Patrick. “Brawling. Sex. Whatever takes the edge off.”
She looked up at him, urgency flooding her. Intent.
And goddamn if his cock didn’t side with her, but Patrick forced himself to shake his head. “Ah, don’t look at me like that, Scurry girl. That’s not what I meant.”
She bit her lip, and he suffused a groan. She came close enough to touch his chest, to run one torturous hand over his shirt and up to his collar, then the other. Sense had flown her body. “And if I begged you?” she said, her mouth closing in on his. Erringly close. And already his lips were parting. His cock pulsed painfully. He held himself as still as he could and closed his eyes.
But she was all around him.
“Please,” she said, her body vibrating. He felt the stiff peaks of her nipples rub against his chest and he imagined teasing them, running her to the edge with just that touch alone.
She looked up at him once more, her hazel eyes enveloping him. Lord, help him. Soft lips pressed against his, her tongue swept gently across the tips of his teeth, and he felt half his resolve melt. She was too sweet to resist. Too much a torment for any one man. A growl left him, and he pushed her back into the wall again. He had a mind to spin her away from him and pin her hands above her head, to make her forget her own name.
She gasped in relief against his mouth, her body undulating already. Her hands slipped down the length of his torso toward his belt.
He caught her wrist before it could descend any farther. Moved his mouth out of reach.
For a moment he simply held still, waiting for the throb of his blood to slow. Waiting for the night to cool them. He pushed his forehead to the wall over her shoulder. “You don’t play fair,” he groaned. Counting his breaths.
