She looked down at his hand where it was still clamped around her wrist. “There are thousands of other words in the English language, you know.”
He ignored her sarcasm and told her flat out, “You are not getting within a hundred feet of that guy again.”
Anger flared in her eyes. Eyes that had been full of happy tears, full of pure joy, just a short while ago. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
“Like hell I can’t.”
She yanked her arm from his and started to walk away, but he couldn’t let her go. Not when she was bound to do something stupid, like kiss a smarmy doctor. And maybe even offer him her body, those sweet curves slipping and sliding beneath him as she gave herself to him.
Furious at the picture of anyone touching Sophie like that, instead of just grabbing her wrist or her shoulders, this time Jake wrapped his arms all the way around her and pulled her into him. He held her tight, her chest pushing into his forearms, her height matching his so that her hips fit perfectly between his open legs, her soft hips pressing into his groin.
“Let go of me.”
“No.”
His new favorite word was muffled by her hair, so soft, so silky against his chin and lips. And the truth was, he couldn’t have let go of her for the world. Not just because he didn’t want that other guy touching her...but because he’d never wanted to hold anyone more than he did Sophie.
How long had he dreamed of holding her? Too many years to keep count. And yet, he’d never had a clue just how incredibly good she would feel in his arms, her dangerous curves pressed into him, her chest rising and falling against his arms.
“I’m not going to let you go until you promise me you’ll stay away from him.”
Now it was her turn to say, “No.”
He shifted his hand enough to slip a finger beneath her chin and turn her face so that he could look into her eyes. “Promise me, Sophie. It’s for your own good.”
Sophie yanked her face away from his hand, then her whole body, and when she turned to face him head-on, her eyes were flashing. “I can’t believe you just said that! Especially since you of all people have no idea whatsoever what’s good for me.”
“Wanna bet?”
His mouth was on hers before he could put the brakes on his desire. He was too angry, too frustrated with himself for wanting her this much—and her infuriating stubbornness—to be gentle.
Lips weren’t enough. He needed tongues. Needed to slide one hand into her hair to tilt her head at just the right angle to take what she’d been about to offer some other worthless guy. Needed to grip the luscious curve of her hips with his other hand to drag her in closer.
Somewhere in the back of his brain, he knew he was moving too fast for her to possibly enjoy the kiss, let alone keep up with him. But even though she should have been fighting him, her arms were twined around his neck and she was moaning softly against his mouth as her tongue pressed out to slide against his.
Sweet Lord, Sophie was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. Her scent, her taste, the feel of her. He couldn’t stop his hand from creeping up from her hips to her waist, to the bottom of her rib cage and then—holy hell, she felt good—the curve of one breast in his palm.
She gasped into his mouth, shivering with pleasure as his thumb crested the aroused tip, and Jake knew he was barely a breath away from lowering her to the grass and pulling her dress up her long legs, until he could touch and lick and—
What the hell was he doing?
Knowing Sophie didn’t stand a chance of fighting off a guy like him if he put her in his sights, his gut churned with self-hatred as he abruptly released her, so quickly that she stumbled back in her heels. Even though he knew better than to ever touch her again, he couldn’t let her fall. As soon as he knew she was steady on her feet, he forced himself to let go, the need to pull her back into his arms so strong it felt like it was clawing at his insides.
Sophie’s mouth was swollen from his rough kiss, her cheeks were flaming, and her eyes were shining with what he assumed were budding tears. He expected her to slap him, or at the very least, to turn and run to her brothers to tell them what had just happened.
So that they could kill him.
Which was exactly what he deserved for daring to kiss those too-sweet lips.
But she didn’t run. And she wasn’t crying. Instead, she stood in front of him looking more beautiful than she ever had before. One part vulnerable, the other part stunned.
“No one has ever kissed me like that,” she said in a breathless voice, “like you couldn’t get enough, like you couldn’t stop yourself and I was driving you crazy. All these years and I never knew it would be like that.”
Jesus, it was hot when she replayed their kiss by turning it into words. But his chest twisted at the way she was acting—like he hadn’t been mauling her, like he hadn’t been seconds away from ripping her dress off and taking something from her she should never, ever give a guy like him. She was enough of a romantic to have made him out to be something other than the bastard he really was all these years.
Jake knew the truth. He came from a long line of bastards.
“Sophie,” he said in low, remorseful voice. “I never should have kissed you. Especially not like that.”