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“I had to get your clothes off. You were burning up. You reacted…amorously.”
He closed his eyes and propped himself up on his elbow. “I think I remember what I did. Too bad it’s fuzzy. You still taste good.”
“Okay.” She shoved his shoulder, her body reacting to his low, sexy words. “Off topic. Sort of.” She fumbled the words.
“I got you off in the shower because you were insistent, and I had to go take care of some assassins.”
“Naked.” He made no attempt to hide his hot, hungry gaze. The intensity between them was always sizzling, her skin tingling.
Her chin came up. “So. I kicked their asses. I took advantage of you and even though you weren’t aware, made you break your vow.”
“Technically, you did, but you were doing it for a good cause.”
“That’s a stretch.”
“Maybe, but I think you’re sorry it happened…at least like that.” His tone was gentle. “You enjoyed it too much.” He grinned, exchanging a lazy, sensual look with her. “I’m more pissed I was out of it and couldn’t enjoy it.”
“Preacher. You are…maddening,” she muttered, hating having no retort for that as it was the awful/wonderful truth.
“Mm-hmm.” He shrugged his shoulders. “So, you feel guilty?”
She stared at him for a second, then let her breath go in a rush of exasperation. “Yes, dammit. I do.”
His expression was shrewd. “Apologize. Although, it could be a sorry/not sorry scenario.” His eyes twinkled. “Make-up sex can be so good.”
This side of him was so compelling. It’s a good thing he’d never turned his charm on like that when she was tortured and so hot for him, she couldn’t seem to get any relief. She would have collapsed like a mine without supports.
She bowed her head, trying to clear it, to be rational and get this out before she succumbed to him again.
He reached up and brushed back her hair, his touch light and lingering.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, trying to be serious, but he smirked. She then ruined it with a soft laugh.
He chuckled. “You’re forgiven.”
“Confession is good for the soul?”
He met her look with a level gaze as he pulled her down against him. “Yeah. If you can’t confess to a preacher, who can you confess to?”
She shifted position, propping her arm on his broad chest and resting her head on her hand. “Thank God you’re not a real preacher.”
“Fucking amen to that, babe.” His voice was low and gruff as he looped his arm around her waist.
That started her laughing again.
“Maddening,” she whispered. His lips brushed across hers. Warm and soft. He slid his fingers along the back of her neck, beneath her hair, sending delicious little shivers all the way down her spine. He had forgiven her just like that. Her hope grew in the wake of his benevolence, yet she still had so much baggage to unload. But his reaction, the way he made love to her, his refusal to let her go or give him the cold shoulder gave her the courage to tell him everything.
Not now.
When she was ready. When she had herself sufficiently…free. When Savic was captured or dead. Maybe then. Her heart hardened. He was the one to blame for what had happened to her. He’d raped her mind and her body. Back then she had no idea what it was like to actually be with a man who cared, who meant something to her. Now that she had found him, she wasn’t quite sure what to do with him. It would take some realignment.
He pulled her against him, from chest to hips, to legs, his expression softening as he gazed at her with a hypnotizing warmth, then whispered her name, her real name, nestling her against him.
When he said her name like that, it grounded her, made her feel like Luna. There was something infinitely calming about the way he held her, and the initial flash of desire slowly eased, her unfulfilled longing satiated for the time being. She sensed that he, too, was finding a kind of tranquility after a very turbulent struggle.
It was enough for now.
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