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nstead of giving her the second apron he reached out and lifted up her hair softly. Putting the apron over her shoulders, he tied the belt around her slender waist. Then he turned her around in his arms to face him. He kept his arms around her waist, her body snug against his in the kitchen as the beef and bacon continued to sizzle on the stove behind them.
Hot desire rushed through Théo like adrenaline as he held her. Her hair felt like cornsilk, her skin soft and smooth as satin. He ached to touch and kiss every inch of her, to rip off her clothes, to stroke and caress and taste her naked skin. He wanted her so badly he shook with it. He wanted to possess her completely and bring her to gasping fulfillment as he plunged himself deeply inside her. He was overwhelmed by the memory of the last time he’d had her in his bed…
He felt her shiver in his arms, and knew she was remembering the same.
She licked her lips, and her wide gaze locked with his. “I won’t let you seduce me, Théo,” she choked out. “I won’t. I can’t.”
But he saw the desperation in her eyes, and knew she was speaking the words to try to convince herself they were true. He saw her tremble, saw the hot flush on her skin, saw the way her teeth gnawed at her full, pink bottom lip. And he knew nothing would stop him from having her.
Tonight.
He cupped her chin in his hands.
“Love doesn’t last.” He looked down at her beautiful face. “But let me show you what we could have in our marriage. Let me show you what you’re tossing away. Security. Comfort. Beauty. And passion,” he breathed in her ear. “A lifetime of pleasure.”
As he pulled away, her eyes flashed up at him in an expression of fear and desire. “No, Théo.” Her voice was barely audible, a small cry from the heart. “Please. Don’t do this to me…”
But he was beyond mercy. Holding her tight in his arms, he ruthlessly lowered his mouth to hers.
CHAPTER FOUR
HEAVEN. She’d fallen into heaven.
Carrie’s eyes closed as she felt his lips, so hot and wet, moving hard against her own, drawing her back into the memory of desire. She felt the roughness of his jawline, like sandpaper against her skin. She felt his hands move against her cheek, her neck, her hair. His body towered over hers, making her feel small and cherished in his powerful arms. She wanted to surrender. But she knew where this kiss would lead. She could not allow it to happen. Could not—
“No,” she breathed, struggling to pull away.
But he was relentless. His black eyes burned through her. “I’m going to have you, Carrie. In my bed,” he whispered. “In my life—forever.”
She looked around the kitchen wildly, desperate for a means of escape or, failing that, some protection to cling to. The enormous kitchen was the size of her parents’ whole house, like something out of a glossy magazine. The high ceiling had a fresco of eighteenth-century hunting scenes looking down on the brand-new professional-grade appliances. A fire roared in an old brick fireplace beside the gleaming stainless-steel refrigerator. In another life she’d have loved it here…
“I don’t love you.” She tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn’t let her go.
“We’re not talking about love. We’re talking about desire. I want you, Carrie,” he said roughly. “And I know you want me.”
She shook her head desperately. “You’re wrong—”
For an answer, he kissed her hard and deep, kissed her until she went limp in his arms. Then, to her shock, he picked her up, lifting her against his hard chest.
“I’ve wanted you for a year,” he growled, looking down at her. “I’ve waited long enough.”
Grimly, he started to walk. Dazed, she looked up at his face as he carried her. High over his head, she saw the fresco. She saw a man on a horse, pursuing a deer through the forest. And she knew how her own hunt would end.
He carried her up the sweeping stairs, taking the steps two or three at a time, and with complete inevitability strode into his bedroom. As he set her down gently on the enormous bed, with its black coverlet and black silk sheets, the place where she’d lost her virginity a year ago, she saw the same Spartan, masculine furniture and French doors opening to a wide balcony.
Carrie looked up at him, trembling, terrified. His fierce dark eyes became gentle as he reached down to stroke her cheek. “Are you so afraid?”
The small word choked her. “Yes.”
“You have nothing to fear,” he said softly.
But how could she explain what she feared most—that if she gave him her body she would once again lose her heart? The last time he’d left her she’d collapsed into a black void from which she’d barely started to recover.
She had a single image through the windows, of vineyards stretching to the cragged mountains beneath blue skies, before Théo lowered himself over her. She had a single deep breath of lavender as a warm summer breeze blew against her skin, then his mouth was on hers and all she could smell was the intoxicating scent of him, luring her with musk and soap and him.
She felt the weight of his body over hers as he kissed her deeply, pressing her into the bed. His hands slowly ran through her hair, stroking down her neck. She felt her body tighten as a sigh escaped her lips. She was lost in his kiss. His tongue flicked against hers and he bit at her lower lip, cupping her face with his hands before kissing her more deeply.
His hot mouth caressed down her throat, his tongue darting into the concave hollow of her collarbone. His large hands moved down her body, holding her to the bed as he kissed her bare shoulders. Lifting one of her hands to his lips, he kissed it, his mouth warm against her skin as he looked down at her. Their eyes locked as his dark gaze burned through her.
