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She pushed herself into him, insistent and frustrated all at once, his toying burning her up from the inside out. “I’m trying to be brave here, and you’re making this more difficult than it should be.”
“I’m sorry.” His voice fell to a comforting whisper, and he slid his hands over her hips, his forehead meeting hers, though the smirk remained. “I’m sorry. And you don’t need to try at being brave. You already are.”
His lips met hers but all too briefly, though that brevity in itself sparked her desire like a match to dry kindling.
She swallowed hard and lifted her hands to his shoulders. “More. Please.”
“Say that again.” He shuffled her back, one slow step at a time, until he had her pressed against a tree. “I like this new Emilia. She’s very impatient.”
His words were a dare, one she wanted to laugh at. But the fire in his eyes and the rock-hard feel of him had heat pooling between her thighs, turning that desire to laugh into a low sigh.
Her mind flashed to the nineteen-year-old boy—now replaced with this all-encompassing man—those memories clashed, past onto present, spurring her to whisper again. “More.”
Before she could rise to kiss him, his mouth crashed over hers, his kiss fierce and unbroken, her entire body giving in to him, even though she’d been the one to start this.
He kept her trapped against that tree, his fingers clasped at the silk of her costume, his palm engulfing her ribcage, his thumb caressing the underside of her breast while a satisfied groan fell from her mouth. She surrendered further.
He nipped at her bottom lip before breaking the kiss completely, his molten stare melting her some more. “Is that what you wanted?”
Her hand slid down his stomach, stopping at his waistband, a deeper meaning to his question filtering through.
“Not what, Blaine. Who.” She held his gaze, no doubt left in her mind. “I want you.”
