He was so close, she thought she might die if he didn’t do something – if he didn’t touch her. If he didn’t kiss her. “What, then?” he asked.
“I told you,” she said, aching for him, loving the warmth and the breath and the strength in him as she confessed, “I choose you.”
“Not forever,” he said.
Did he want her forever?
Was he offering it?
Did she want it?
Even if she did, he could not save Caroline.
She met his gaze, wishing she could hide from him in this too-light room. Wishing the truth weren’t so clear. Wishing that he was less than what he was – handsome, noble, good. Wishing she did not want him so very much.
Wishing she could have him, nonetheless.
If only wishing made it so.
She shook her head. “Not forever.”
He nodded. And she thought she saw something in his eyes, there and gone so quickly that she might not have recognized it if she did not feel it so keenly herself.
Regret.
She rushed to say more, knowing she merely made things worse. “If I could… if I were a different woman… if this were a different life —”
“If I were a different man,” he offered, the words somehow both hot and cold.
“No,” she said, wanting the truth here. Now. Where it had never been before. “I would never want you a different man.”
His lips twisted in a humorless smile. “You should want that. Because as it is… as I am… We are impossible.”
“If I did not need the title —”
He cut off her thought. “Where is he?”
She met his gaze. “Nowhere near here.”
“When will he return?”
“Not today.” She didn’t want Chase to return. She wanted this moment, with Duncan, to last forever. Hang the rest of the world.
He slid the fingers of one hand into her hair. “Even if you did not need the title,” he said. “I would not marry you.”
The words were a blow – one she no doubt deserved. He was angry, furious that she’d brought him here, to Chase’s office, but not to Chase. She understood pride well, and he was a man who had more of it than most. But still, the vow echoed through her, and she hated it. Hated that he could so easily resist her. Could so easily discount her.
Hated that he could hurt her so well.
That they could hurt each other.
She could not resist fighting back. “You lie.”
He raised a brow and tilted her head back, leaving her lips open for him. “You lie more.”
He kissed her then, his hand sliding down the wood to throw the lock as he lifted her high, pressing her into the door, letting her legs wrap high around his waist as he took everything she offered and left her desperate to give him more. To give him everything.
She gasped, her arms wrapping around his neck as he held her off the ground, as though she weighed nothing at all, as though she were a puppet on a string. And perhaps she was. Perhaps he was her puppet master. His hands were everywhere, at her bottom, in her hair, between them, palming her breasts as he pressed into her, promising ease to the parts of her that ached, desperate for him.
She’d never wanted anything the way she wanted this man.
She threaded her fingers through his hair, clenching tight in the blond curls as he released her mouth and slid his lips across her cheek and down her jaw to the lobe of her ear, soft and tremendously sensitive. She gasped, turning her head into the caress as he licked and bit there, at that place about which she’d never really thought.
Her knees went weak, and she was grateful for his firm grip, for the way he held her, strong and without hesitation, as though she weighed nothing at all. He palmed her backside, lifting her higher, pressing deeper, and whispered at her ear. “Here is something that is not a lie; I am going to make you scream your pleasure. You will beg for me to stop, and then, when I do, you will beg for me to start again. You won’t know what to do with yourself when I am done with you, because you will not remember your body outside of the pleasure I intend to give you.”
The words intended to shock her, and they did. She watched the promise on his lips and closed her eyes against the flood of anticipation they caused deep within her, unable to stop herself from moving against him, thoroughly wanton. She sighed at the feel of him there, between her legs, where she wanted him, repeating the motion, loving the way he pressed against her, bold and unyielding and without apology… and then loving the way he groaned his pleasure at the sensation even more.
He swore, the word dark and full of sin. “You know what you do to me, and you do not care.”
She leaned forward and bit his lower lip, pulling him to her for another long, drugging kiss. When they parted, they were both panting their pleasure. She smiled. “I do not care in the slightest.”
He lifted her, turned her, carried her across the room, setting her on the edge of the massive desk, running one hand up the outside of her thigh as he talked, the words sending heat and promise through her. “I adore these trousers,” he confessed, his large hand exploring the muscles and bones of her leg, curving over her thigh to find the soft, untouched place inside, inching along the fabric there until she wished he would pull the damn things off her and do what his touch promised.
She placed her hands to the desk behind her and leaned back, watching him watch her, watching his touch wash over her. He spoke, his words following his caress. “I am viciously jealous of them, though.”