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He could see her body still, as if she hadn’t put her clothes back on. He could see how she’d stood before him, not unaffected by her nudity, but not cringing or cowering, either.
He thought of his beloved Greece and all the great statues of goddesses, breasts bared, bodies more weapons of awe than shame.
And he thought that for the rest of his life when he looked at such pieces of art he would see Kendra instead. Small yet plump breasts with rosy crests. The tempting slope of her belly. The auburn tangle of curls at the apex of her thighs.
Somehow, with the taste of her in his mouth, he thought that if he stripped her again it might kill him.
That was absurd, of course.
But even so, he reached down and began to tug her skirt up instead of removing it. She made a wordless sort of noise, then lifted her hips, helping him clear the fabric from around her hips.
He could smell her arousal.
It made him think of gardens before a summer storm, heavy with scent. Flowers and a raw bloom.
It almost made him lose himself completely.
Balthazar didn’t understand what was happening inside of him.
She was spread out before him, his entirely for the taking if the blissed-out look on her face was any clue, and he should have felt cynical and triumphant at once.
He’d had any number of beautiful women below him before, but this was different. This was Kendra Connolly. And much as he might like to imagine otherwise, he had been imagining something like this for very long time indeed.
There was a part of him that had been thrilled to discover that her vile brother had been foolish enough to get himself into such trouble.
Had he hoped that this would happen? He had expected her to offer, but had he hoped all along that he would accept that offer—even though he’d assured himself that he was only taking this meeting for the chance to humiliate a Connolly?
He had to face the fact that this was exactly what he’d wanted.
Balthazar felt something like drunk, when he never allowed himself such indulgences.
But her legs were free of the constriction of her skirt then, so he stepped between them, pulling her bottom to the edge of the granite desk.
Her arms seem to move of their own accord, rising over her head. She arched back with a kind of inbred grace that poured through him, a new kind of storm. Looking at her made his chest feel tight.
But he shoved all of that aside and concentrated on the part of him that ached for her the most.
Balthazar reached down to unzip himself, then pull his own throbbing length free. Finally.
He heard an indrawn breath and when he looked up again, Kendra’s eyes seemed even wider and brighter, and she was biting down on her bottom lip.
And he felt something sharp move in him then, like fragments of broken glass, embedding themselves in his flesh.
She was the very picture of innocence on the verge of surrender, wasn’t she? Balthazar could admit, deep inside himself where he would never discuss it with another living soul or admit it out loud, that there was no small part of him that wished the picture she presented was real.
That had been the issue three years ago. It was worse now.
He reached between her legs and pulled her panties to one side. Then, giving in to the brute in him, he tore them off her and tossed them aside. He could see goose bumps rise on the smooth flesh of her inner thighs and wasn’t surprised when she covered her face with her arms, because they both knew the truth, didn’t they?
She wanted him. This was the game. And better she should hide now that he was winning it.
If he had been more in control of himself, he wouldn’t have allowed it. He’d have pinned her hands above her head, bent close, and studied her face as he thrust deep into the very center of her molten heat.
He’d have enjoyed every moment of this victory.
But this was far wilder than he’d anticipated. Whatever it was that beat in him, it made him feel savage. Something like mad with it.
She was too hot, too wet.
