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And then she was there.
Red-gold hair spilled loose over her shoulders. Down her back.
Her candle’s light silhouetting the dusky flesh of her breasts, the muscled curve of her hips, the determined tilt to her chin, she was his every fantasy. An impossible desire. Inches away and forever out of reach.
He fought to stay angry. To hold tight to the knot of betrayal that kept the worst of the pain at bay. He struggled to harden his heart against the apology clear in the bronze of her gaze.
The rest of his body hardened on its own.
“What the hell do you want?” He slammed to his feet. Winced at the ache of need centered in his groin. He could act as furious as he wanted; Morgan could tell all too clearly how he really felt. “Stooping to your Other tricks again to get in?”
“Didn’t need to.” She smiled, coming farther into his room. Tossed a knife on the bed beside him. “Compliments of Brodie. He’s a man of many talents, you know.”
What she did next, he’d never anticipated. Not in his wildest imaginings.
And he’d had a few over the last weeks.
She kissed him. Brushed his lips with a touch as weightless as down yet holding the promise of so much more if he let her continue. And why the hell not? It was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it?
Instead, he grabbed her wrists. Forced her to step away. Saw his coldhearted fury reflected in her eyes.
This didn’t make sense. She didn’t make sense. And he grew tired of being strung out and reeled back like a child’s toy. “What’s your game?”
Her face grew shuttered. “No game. Not this time.”
“And y
ou expect me to believe you? After all that’s gone between us?”
“I don’t expect. But I hope.”
What had he said to his grandfather? A fool’s hope?
She stood so close he saw the rise and fall of her chest. The flicker of caution in the lightning depths of her gaze. Smelled her cool floral fragrance mixed with the earthier scent of desire in her hair, on her skin. His hand came up, touched the bandage wrapped taut around the muscle of her arm. A reminder of how close he’d come to losing her forever.
She refused to surrender. “Send me away, and I’ll go. Tell me it’s over between us, and I’ll believe you. But if you can’t, I’ll stay. And I’ll make you forgive me.”
There stood a challenge if he’d ever heard one. He swallowed.
Uncle Josh’s disapproval. Gran-da’s advice. The dangling uncertainty of Lord Delvish’s warning. There were a million reasons he should push her away. Throw her from his room. Relock the door. And forget her.
And only one reason to hold her fast.
He lowered his mouth to hers, her body swaying as she opened to him. His tongue dipping to taste the heat of her as the air left his lungs in a punching rush of emotion.
That one reason prevailed.
But damned if he’d make it easy for her.
Morgan’s hands splayed across the cool marble of Cam’s chest, deliberately avoiding the cross, the reason for his anger. His heart raced beneath her palm, his breathing coming quick and fast. His kiss sent a lightning strike of emotion straight to her center, making her knees buckle, eliciting an involuntary moan.
He caught her before she fell, rolling her under him as they both crashed onto the bed. Trapping her. Pinning her with his weight and the furious hunger in his gaze. A gaze that singed wherever it lingered. And it lingered just about everywhere. Her breasts, the flat of her stomach, the junction of her legs.
Unable to move, she lay still as his eyes devoured. Enjoying the slow knotting of her insides into a tighter and tighter coil. The way her blood roared through her veins. The way he rubbed against her, letting her feel the hard shaft of his erection.
She answered his hunger with her own, wanting him to push himself into her. Fill the yawning uncertainty she fought to crush under her overpowering desire for Cam.
“Take me,” she murmured. “Fuck me. Now.”
