Marrying Winterborne (The Ravenels #2) - Lisa Kleypas Page 0,101
to tell him. But it would ruin this moment, it would end everything. She wasn’t ready to say good-bye yet. She would never be ready, but if she could steal just a little more time with him, a few more days, she would live off that for the rest of her life.
“It’s nothing,” she said hastily, and tried to distract him with more kisses.
She could feel the reluctance in his response. He wanted to make her tell him what was wrong. Reaching around his neck, she tugged him down and kissed him until their tongues slid together and the intoxicating fresh taste of him filled her senses. All his awareness homed in on her, and he pulled her up against him until she was on her toes. His head angled over hers as he searched the inner silk of her mouth more deeply. Sliding her hands into his coat, Helen followed the slope of his solid, hard torso as it tapered to his lean waist.
Rhys lifted his head with a quiet curse, his lungs working hard, a shiver running through him as she kissed his neck. “Helen, you’re playing with fire.”
Yes. She could feel the latent power of him, ready to be unleashed. “Take me to your bedroom,” she said recklessly, knowing it was one of the worst ideas she’d ever had. She didn’t care. It was worth anything, any scandal or sacrifice, to be with him one more time. “Just for a few minutes. It’s not far.”
Rhys shook his head without even pausing to consider it. “That bloody headache powder,” he said darkly. “It’s loosened your virtue.”
The quaint phrase, coming from him, forced Helen to bury her face against his chest to muffle a laugh. “You took care of my virtue long before now.”
Rhys didn’t seem to share her amusement. “You haven’t been yourself tonight, cariad. What upset you badly enough to cause a migraine?”
That sobered her quickly. “Nothing.”
Rhys grasped her chin and compelled her to look at him. “Tell me.”
Seeing the heated exasperation in his gaze, Helen tried to think of something that would satisfy him. “I miss you,” she said, which was true. “I didn’t expect it would be so difficult to stay here in London, knowing you’re so near, and still never having you.”
“You can have me whenever you want.”
One corner of her mouth hitched upward. “I want you now.” Her hand stole to the front of his trousers.
“Damn it, Helen, you’ll drive me mad.” But he sucked in a sharp breath as she gripped the huge straining shape of him. His face changed, his dark eyes shot with glints of hellfire. She loved how easily he responded to her nearness, this very physical man, she loved the soul and substance of him.
One last brick-colored wash of light passed over them and melted into shadow, while the winter moon mantled itself with clouds in a distant corner of the sky. It was only the two of them, now, in this high, dark place, while the city stirred far below, its distant noises unable to reach them.
Helen settled her hands on either side of his face, delighting in the masculine texture of his shaven cheeks. How vital he was, how earthy and real. He stood motionless, captured by her light touch, while his body stirred with insatiate hunger, and she sensed how close to the edge of control he was. Desire filled her in showers of sparks, at the tips of her fingers and toes, and the insides of her knees and elbows . . . everywhere. She couldn’t keep from touching him, any more than she could stop herself from telling him something she had no right to say.
“I love you.”
SHAKEN TO HIS core, Rhys stared down at Helen. The moonstone eyes were luminous and haunted, and so beautiful that he wanted to sink to his knees before her.
“Dw i’n dy garu di,” he whispered when he had the breath, a phrase he’d never said to anyone, and he kissed her roughly.
The world sank down to the two of them in this glittering sphere, where there was only darkness, flesh, and feeling. He found himself nudging her backward, crowding her into the corner against a flat-fronted iron support post. She clung to him, writhing as if she were trying to climb up his body. He needed to feel her skin, the natural shape of her, and as always, there were too damned many clothes in the way.
Inflamed, he gripped the front of her skirt and hauled