eighteen
VIOLANTE WOKE UP with her cheek resting on something warm and solid.
She blinked the sleep away and touched around. No, underneath her wasn’t the bedsheet, but taut muscles and—Keith! She bolted upright.
Goodness, she remembered now. His smouldering gaze, his tender touch, his lips on her nipples. Above all, she remembered the scorching sensations burning through her body, the ache throbbing between her legs, and the all-consuming need to do more, feel more, to wrap her legs around him and beg him to take her.
Her cheeks heated all over again. It’d started with him chastely touching her wrist and had turned into something deliciously wicked from there. She would have never imagined that his touch would make her feel so powerful, beautiful, and happy. Her head reeled at the memory. Yes, powerful and a bit scary. Then she’d sagged against him and fallen asleep. A sweet, deep sleep on his chest, lulled by his steady heartbeat.
His nightshirt was open, and her hand touched his naked skin. He opened his eyes and took in her wandering hand and her closeness.
“Oh, dear.” She scurried away from him. “I’m sorry.”
He scowled, rubbing his forehead. “It’s all right.” It didn’t seem all right, judging by his harsh tone.
“You might not be used to sleeping with someone, but I am.” She realised too late what she said. “I mean, reluctantly sleeping with others. I didn’t want to.” Goodness. That sounded even worse. She blamed it on his confusing touch.
That scowl of his turned into the flaming, fierce expression of a man ready to defend her. “Were you forced?” His voice was all but a chilling growl. “Did someone attack you? I swear to God, you’ll be avenged. I’ll find whoever hurt you and?—”
She pressed a finger to his lips, meaning to simply shut him up. But once she touched his soft, sculpted lips, she didn’t want to remove her finger. He didn’t look less fierce. Corded tendons stood out in his neck.
She withdrew her finger. “I…”
He sat up. The blanket slipped down his body, revealing his half-naked chest. The dim light of dawn was enough to make out the sharp ridges of his chiselled muscles. The view distracted her from his palpable fury.
“Tell me the truth,” he said in a low tone. “Give me a name. If someone hurt you, if someone touched you, I’m going to chase them down.” It wasn’t a threat but a vow. The air itself vibrated with the intensity of his determination. “Was it that thug, George?”
She pulled up her nightgown. The fabric chafed her tender nipples in the most delightful way. “No, no. It’s not what you think.”
His black eyes seemed to turn darker. “What do you mean?”
She held up a hand. “No one forced me. I mean, there were a few times when I was close to being?—”
“What?” He didn’t raise his voice, but the cold determination in it scared her more.
“I was lucky, and nothing happened to me. Ever. No one forced me. I expressed myself in the wrong way.” She waited for him to breathe normally again before continuing. “I usually slept in a room with a dozen or so other girls. We squeezed ourselves together, both because of the lack of space and because it was cold. I have to say not being alone was comforting. The first time I’d slept surrounded by other people, I didn’t like it, but it had its merits.”
“No one attacked you.” His eyebrows lowered over his glacial eyes.
“Never.” She was about to say something else, but his fierce hug cut her off.
His strong arms wrapped around her as he crushed her in a bear hug.
“I’m glad of that. You endured such a hard life that having been attacked would be too much.” He brushed his lips against her temple, and she suppressed a moan.
His warmth and scent engulfed her. The closeness was better than being squeezed between those other desperate souls. As he caressed her back in slow circles, she sagged against him. She should be careful. She should keep her distance because she had no idea where their closeness would lead. But only for that moment, she wanted to enjoy the safety of his arms.
“About last night,” he said, holding her.
“Yes?” she prompted when he didn’t add anything else.
“You seemed shocked.”
“I was.”
He took her face, rubbing her cheeks with his thumbs. Worry lines marred his forehead. “I…” he stammered the rest of thesentence, and she couldn’t understand it. “Will you ever forgive me?”
“What for?” Besides, his big, warm hands on her cheeks made her feel peculiar. Peculiar as in needing his kisses again.
