Page 33 of An Outlaw’s Desire

Her eyes widened.

“I am sorry.” He grabbed the end of the belt at her waist. Pulled.

“What—? Nay!”

She slapped him with her free hand, but her strength in no way matched his. When the tie fell away from her body, he hauled her to him, so her face landed in the front of his cloak. Her angry cries smothered by the garment, he pinned her arms behind her back and bound them with the cloth.

Spitting and struggling, she lifted her head to scream.

He yanked her backward, pulling her off balance. As she struggled to catch her breath, he hauled her to the nearest bedpost, looped the sash around it, and tied a knot.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

Her chest heaved. Shock and betrayal blazed in her eyes. Her robe, gaping at the front, revealed her sheer chemise and hints of the womanly curves he’d moments ago had pinned against him.

Her lips parted: another attempt to scream.

He lowered his head and kissed her.

Chapter Eight

The scream, rising in Blythe’s throat, broke apart under his lips. Pitt didn’t just kiss her. He devoured her mouth, as though to claim her cry, her lips, her, all for himself.

She squirmed, but the bonds held fast. With a growl of displeasure, he nudged forward, so their lower bodies pressed together. With the back of her head and spine against the carved wooden post, she could hardly move, let alone evade his kisses.

Oh, mercy. He knew exactly how to glide his lips over hers, to advance and retreat, to tease and tame. Resentment burned, for ’twas entirely unfair that he should resort to such wicked tactics. Even more so that he kissed so wondrously.

Do not kiss him back. Wait. You’ll get another chance to scream.

His tongue slipped into her mouth, the sensation so coaxing, so delicious, her fingers curled against the carved post. Did he hope she’d give in and respond to him? She would not!

As she fought the growing urge to arch against him, memories stirred. Years ago, he’d said he loved her—and he’d meant it. Back then, the slightest press of his lips had sent sweet, glorious hunger whipping through her. Now, as his mouth conquered hers, he reminded her of all they ways they’d once cared about one another.

Her heart ached. He had no right to be so brazen.

And yet, she’d loved him too.

Every day since they’d parted ways, she’d thought of him.

She’d missed him. Very much.

As though aware of her thoughts, his kisses gentled. His hand rose to cup her face, and as his gloved thumb brushed her bottom lip, her eyelids fluttered.

“Kiss me,” he murmured against her mouth.

She jerked her face away.

He laughed softly and, with his fingers under her chin, turned her face back to him.

“Kiss me.” Longing threaded through his voice.

“I will not.” How she wished her voice hadn’t wavered. How she wished she didn’t yearn for his mouth on hers once more.

Fool! Scream! Now.

His thumb swept again, coaxing her back to her memories. “We shared some incredible kisses, you and I.”

Hurt flared. “We did. Yet, you will not trust me.”