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Liar,a part of her whispered.It’s everything…
She let her hand fall, but she couldn’t turn away. Because, even as she stared at the impression of her own teeth, cut into someone else’s skin… She didn’t feel one ounce of shame. Or guilt.
Mine.
The thought shocked her, and she took a hasty step back—but her foot never even touched the ground.
He moved so fast. His arm hooked around her waist, yanking her so close she had to brace her hands against his chest just to keep standing. Horror flashed in his gaze.
But he didn’t pull away. Not even as her hands spread out tentatively over the hard, pure muscle of his chest.
What are you doing, Loren?the logical part of her demanded.This is bad…
But, it didn’tfeelbad. In fact, pressed against him, bathed in his heat, she felt better than ever. Warm, and so dizzy—like she could just give up right now and never even hit the ground.
Just float.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated. She could only stare down at her fingers, pale against his tan skin. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Don’t—”
“Does it hurt?” Without thinking, she let her fingers travel a fraction lower, amazed at the way he felt. Like stone, so damn solid. He barely seemed to breathe or move at all, even as delicate snowflakes melted against his skin…
At least, until he growled. The low sound broke from his throat, raising the hairs on the back of her neck.
She recoiled. Her hands had inched lower than she meant to, catching the two dark pink peaks that centered his pecks.
Uh-oh. Like a good girl who rarely interacted with the opposite sex, Loren knew that she should have turned and left him right then and there.
Hell, it seemed to be his way of handling things.
But she couldn’t.
Mine.The thought was a fly buzzing around the inside of her skull, demanding acknowledgment.Mine, mine, mine.
“Loren…” As if from far away, she saw his hands gingerly encircle the fragile bones of her wrist—but he didn’t brush her off. He just held her for so long that she finally forced herself to glance up at him through her lashes.
His eyes wereglowing, as bright as moonlight. He looked confused. Torn. She could feel his hands twitching as if he wanted to let her go, but something deep inside wouldn’t let him.
Loren figured it was the same, dark impulse that had her leaning up, pressing her mouth firmly against his.
7
Their lips met, and for that brief expanse of time, her entire world centered aroundhimand nothing else.
Not the wind moving through the trees or the falling snow. Not his age. Not their situation, or the voices screaming at the back of her head that he was a grown man, and she was…
Stupid.
It didn’t matter. Bold, her tongue slipped out, running along the seam of his, aiming to slip inside and—
“Stop!” He ripped his mouth from hers, shoving her back. “Loren, no. We can’t.”
Her heart sank as every argument against her attraction returned in full force. “I’m sor—”
He put a finger to her lips. “Will youstopsaying that?” It was a plea, someone begging for torture to end. “You never have to apologize to me.”
He just stared down at his outstretched finger, as if wondering why it was still there. She felt the pressure shift, slowly moving down from her mouth to cup her chin.
