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He pressed hard against her stomach, his hands sliding down to cup her bottom and draw her up and against him to where he was hard and pulsing beneath his trousers.
“Cece,” he whimpered. “Tell me it’s not too late.”
Cecelia pulled away, unwound his arms from around her, and stepped to the side. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and wished for some magic dust that could take her back in time. A time before that kiss. A time before he’d taken that step. Because he thought she was free to accept him. And she wasn’t.
“I can’t,” she said. She adjusted her clothing and tried to calm her breathing.
He tilted his head and regarded her solemnly. At least his breaths were as shallow as hers. He wasn’t unaffected by the kiss. That much was obvious. “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that,” he said, his brows narrowing.
“I won’t lie to you, Marcus. About anything.” He stepped toward her again, hope blooming on his face. But she couldn’t let him hope. “That kiss affected me.” A winded chuckle left her throat. It certainly had.
“Good.”
He sounded pleased with himself.
“Yours was my first kiss all those years ago.”
“I know.” He looked even more pleased. Damn him.
“But it won’t be my last.”
His mouth fell open. “What?”
Cecelia heaved a sigh. “I waited for you. I waited for months. I hoped with all my heart that you were going to come back. That you were going to come to your senses and come back to me. Return to the land of the fae. But you didn’t.”
He had the nerve to look contrite. “I was occupied here.”
“When your grandmother asked me to come and help you, I couldn’t say no, but I should have.” She began to pace and wring her hands. “I should have said no, because I knew it would be hard to see you.”
“It doesn’t have to be hard,” he said, smiling. Goodness, she loved that smile.
“But it is hard. It’s like someone putting a tray of biscuits before you but telling you that you can’t eat them. And then you’re past the point of starvation, and the biscuits start to taunt you.”
“I’ll last a little longer than a tray of biscuits,” he said with a laugh. “And I’m attainable.”
“Not for me,” she sighed.
“Why do you have to keep denying this?” he bit out. “I made a mistake. Now stop punishing me. You love me. And you want me. That kiss told me everything I needed to know.” He reached out to touch her, and she let him cup her cheek. “You waited for me all these years. Now it’s time to stop waiting. We can be together. We can get married.”
“We can’t,” she said, a sob building within her. “I’m not free to accept you.” She had to take care of her father. He was her priority now.
His face fell. And his mouth fell open. “What?” He took a step back from her.
“I’m not free to accept you, Marcus. Because I had to stop waiting. I had no choice. You gave me no indication that you would be returning. That you still thought of me, much less wanted to marry me. So, I stopped waiting. I am no longer free to accept you.”
***
If the ground didn’t open up and swallow Marcus, he would be sorely disappointed. Because there was nowhere to go to get away from her words. There was nothing he could do, no place to run, nowhere to hide, no way to block out the pain.
“There’s someone else.” There was no emotion in the words. He understood. “I always thought we would marry.” He felt like a deflated balloon—empty and lifeless.
“So did I. But then you left me.”
“I did.” He did. Oh God, he did. This was all his fault. He dragged a hand through his hair, upsetting the queue at the back of his neck. The leather band fell to the ground as his hair spilled out around his face. He ran a hand through it again. Damn it, he was a ridiculous fool.
“And I moved on.” She stood up tall and didn’t back down.
“You’ve kissed someone else?”
