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But he wasn’t finished. “And yet you truly plan to shackle yourself to a man who will use your body to pleasure himself? You wish to endure a lifetime of his touch?”
“For all you know Julian is a marvelous lover,” she threw at him.
And then, at last, she saw Crete change.
It was instant and overwhelming. As if they’d moved from a bright, sunny summer’s day to a howling winter storm in the blink of an eye. He seemed to grow larger, wider.
Darker.
It took her long moments, her heart stuttering in her chest, to recognize that though it felt like he’d gone volcanic—though she couldseethe explosion all around them—he actually hadn’t moved at all.
“And have you had many lovers since we parted?” he asked. Softly. So softly.
But the threat there was unmistakable.
Not that he would hurt her with his hands. That would be easier to handle, because if he was that kind of brute, she wouldn’t feel so torn by this. By him. Rather that he would make his displeasure known in other ways—and heaven help her, but she didn’t think she could survive that again. She wasn’t entirely sure she’d survived it the first time.
Her heart was pounding so hard that she hurt. Ithurt. And she had never been a liar. But she didn’t think that any good would come of telling truths here. Not when he looked molten and dangerous, and too likely to express himself with his mouth on her body—
And no matter that her body responded enthusiastically to that notion, she couldn’t let that happen. Not because she was so virtuous, but because the only way to live through this was to go cold turkey from Crete and his dangerous, intoxicating touch. That he’d kissed her tonight was bad enough. Anything more and she would be lost.
Julian wasn’t anyone’s idea of a savior, but there would be safety in marrying him all the same.
“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” she said, lifting her chin.
But Crete only laughed, as he closed the distance between them. “I don’t believe you.”
“Luckily, I don’t require your belief. That’s the thing about facts, Crete. They remain facts whether or not you believe in them.”
There was a curve to his hard mouth. A gleam far harder in his dark gaze. “I believe in this.”
Then he was kissing her again, and this time, it was as if he’d taken all that heat, all that fire, and thrown gas on it.
It was a mad spiral of sensation and need. Timoney could feel him everywhere, swirling around inside her, pooling low in her belly, and making her melt between her legs.
He bent her backward and she arched into him, jubilant and joyful, her blood pumping out a rhythm that sounded likeAt last, at last, at last.
And it was only when a shock of cold hit the heated flesh of her breasts that she remembered herself.
Or tried.
She pushed him away again, unable to tell if she was gasping for breath or sobbing.
More likely, it was something in between. She glanced down at the bodice of the dress she wore, and readjusted it. Then pulled her cloak tight over breasts that ached, because, she knew, all they wanted was more.
All she ever wanted from Crete was more.
And she knew that as long as it was physical, he would give her all themoreshe could possibly want. More than she could handle. Almost more than she could take.
Timoney had lived like that for months. And when he’d taken all thatmoreaway, with such brutal finality, she’d thought it might kill her. Maybe it had killed her, in a way, because she wasn’t who she’d been then. Not anymore. She couldn’t pretend that she was.
Somehow, she knew that it was only possible to fall in love so heedlessly once.
Because ever after, it would be impossible to forget what it was like to crash back down to earth.
Or what it was like to live like that, in so many pieces.
She had gathered herself together and loved again after her parents died. But how could she possibly be so reckless again? She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.
