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But she grabbed me by the shirt and pulled me back to her. Our kiss this time was raw, needy. Real.
Somehow, we were both on our knees. Still kissing her, I released her chin and cupped her face between my palms. She pushed my shirt down my shoulders and our bodies aligned, her nipples hard against my bare chest, my erection against her warm belly.
It wasn’t enough. Not what I wanted, needed. To be inside her again after two long years.
Her pelvis rocked against me. She tore her mouth from mine. “Touch me, damn you.”
She wanted me. She couldn’t hide her racing heart, her needy gasps.
Something in me settled. Shrugging off the shirt, I traced a finger down her throat.
Claiming it. Claimingher, even if she didn’t realize it yet.
She licked her kiss-swollen lips. “Brien?” Her eyes were darker, sultry, just as I remembered.
“That’s better.”
I moved my hands to her shoulders, nudging off first one strap, then the other. No bra. The silky black dress slipped down her torso, catching on the tips of her breasts, which was erotic as fuck.
My hands raised of their own volition. I covered her breasts with my palms, teasing the nipples with my thumbs. Her head fell back and I couldn’t help myself. I nipped her throat.
She moaned, and the vibration went straight to my balls.
I jerked her dress down to her thighs and cupped her mound over her tiny red panties. She was hot, the silky material soaked.
Triumph surged through me.
She really did want this—me. That much wasn’t a lie.
I rubbed her swollen clit through the panties.
“Jesus,” she said hoarsely and brushed my hand aside so she could shove the dress and panties the rest of the way down.
They stuck on her ankles, and I lifted her with one arm and dragged them off with the other hand. Then her legs were wrapped around me, the wet heat of her pressed against my dick.
I prided myself on my self-control, but Twilight had undone me with nothing more than a kiss and a scrap of red satin. Her arms wrapped around me and her heels dug into the backs of my legs.
I put an arm around her waist, arching her over the armchair until her shoulders almost touched the cushion. Rocking my dick against her. My scruples were all that stood between me and a powerful, all-consuming physical gratification.
Gods, I wanted to drown myself in her. To forget my father and the syndicate and all the other issues banging around in my brain, like why Twilight had been offered up at auction on the very night Régis had invited me to attend.
And how to protect her from my father.
Her long, tip-tilted eyes were closed, the lashes dark crescents against her cheeks. Her breasts were small and firm, the nipples a tight plum-brown.
I nuzzled her cheek. She smelled like wine and strawberries, and I was starving for her. So damn turned on, my muscles straining toward her like I was a runner and she the finish line, the only goal that mattered in my straitjacket of a life.
I drew a slow breath, ignoring the ache in my balls. Holding back, just to be sure I had myself under control.
Her eyes opened. A perplexed line appeared between her brows.
But I’d mastered myself, enough to know that I wasn’t going to finish this, not tonight. I’d stick with the plan.
Take her back to Nova Scotia, install her in the castle with the other thralls. Buy myself time to figure out what to do with her.
Because Iwouldown Twilight—and not just her body.
I wanted her soul.
