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“The good little soldier,” she whispered.
“Call me what you wish. I am who I am, Ellery.” His voice was low and sensual.
A prickle of anticipation raced across her shoulders, making her shiver. “It’s over now. I don’t want to think about it anymore.”
“And your father’s death? My part in it?”
“I know what really happened that day. If you agree, we won’t speak of it again.”
His stare deepened, lingered. Devoured. She couldn’t breathe with the waiting.
“I agree,” he said.
The air crackled between them. Lightning flickered along her skin. She could lean up, brush his lips with hers. It wouldn’t take much. He was only
inches away.
“Did Morgan know what she was tempting when she pointed my room out to you?” he asked, making her wonder if he’d caught her stray thought.
Her lips curved into a sly smile. “I think she meant it as a warning. Don’t get mixed up with Conor for your own good.”
“Smart woman, my cousin. I eat shy young maidens for breakfast.”
“This young maiden can take care of herself.” And she could, couldn’t she?
She squashed the voice in her head warning her to withdraw while she still could. Things were getting out of hand. She was getting out of hand.
He fingered a strand of her hair, pushed it back behind her ear. The lightning swelled. Became fires lit and running with her blood. “It’s not you I worry about, Ellery,” he said.
“What do you worry about?” Her voice wavered. Broke.
“Starting something I can’t stop—can’t control.” He grazed her side with his hand, the pressure of his touch catching her breath in her throat.
The bugles blew. Retreat. Retreat. But by then, she’d stopped listening.
She took the final step that brought them together. Reached up to skim a hand over the planes of his torso. Caressed with gentle fingers the line of his latest scar. This time, he didn’t stop her. “I’ve had a lifetime of looking after myself. I’ve gotten quite good at it.”
Out of character, the corner of his mouth quirked in a little-boy smile as he stripped her with his molten-honey gaze. “Until I came along, anyway.”
Had she come here wanting this? Knowing what would happen? Her mind screamed at her to get out. Run while she had the chance.
“Conor. Please,” she whispered, not knowing whether it was a plea for him to stop or continue.
His kiss, when it came, knocked the air from her lungs. She clung to him. Twined her arms around his neck. Felt his heart beating in rhythm with her own.
His tongue dipped into her mouth. Tempted her with a hint of what lay ahead if she chose to keep on. He fisted his hands in her hair, tilted her head back as his kiss assaulted her senses. Now teasing and sweet, a playful nibble of her bottom lip. Now deep and hot and breath-stealing until she fought against the constraints of clothing. Until only skin-on-skin would satisfy.
She wasn’t the only one affected. Conor’s breathing came faster, his eyes darkening from bronze to almost black.
Answering to some primitive force of her body, she rocked against Conor’s swollen ridge. His whole body tensed before he gasped a half-laugh, half-groan, “Gods, Ellery…you’ll finish me before we even start.”
Her lips curved in a sly smile. “Just by doing this?” He groaned and caught her before she could do it a third time. “Aye, more’s the shame. It’s been a long”—raw animal need burned in his gaze—“long time.” His hands were inside her robe now, untying the ribbons of her shift. Skimming the curve of her breasts, his light touch only making the aching heat spread faster. “No weapons tonight? Gun? Knife?”
The pleasure swelled. Made her hurt with wanting him. “Too messy.” She smiled, running her hands through the un-fashionable crop of his hair. Traced his shoulders, the long, sculpted line of his back. “I’m unarmed.”
Her robe was gone. Her shift fell away. She stood naked before him, flushed and shivering with desire.
“So you are.” His predatory gaze pinned her in place.
