Fakery be damned.
Kite’s messages and deceit be damned.
I just wanted a raw connection—with this man, who made my soul whimper for wrongness.
Jethro’s tongue slipped between his lips, hypnotising me. Then…he let me go. “No, I’m not asking you to kiss me. I won’t ever ask anything from you.”
I flinched as if he’d slapped me. “Why not?”
“Because I own you. Everything I want will be given, not requested.”
Double shit.
I should hate him. I should smite him. So, why did his every word seduce me, even while I knew his morals were chauvinistic and heartless?
Forcing my body to obey, I shoved the weakness I had for him as far away as possible. My eyes trailed down his front. He wore tan jodhpurs, black riding boots, and a tweed jacket. The bulge between his legs looked heavy and far too dangerous to be legal.
“You’ve been riding.”
A gentle gust of early morning air blew his scent directly into my nose. I inhaled, soaking my lungs in hay, horse, and all things Jethro.
He nodded, crossing his arms once again. “You run. I ride. Seems we have something else in common.”
Something other than being forced into this debt and finding each other irresistible, you mean?
“Oh, what’s that?”
Jethro stepped closer, seeming to bring shadows into the smoky light of dawn. “We both need time alone to hide from the things that chase us.” He stiffened, his eyes churning with things he refused to voice. A five o’ clock shadow decorated his strong jaw, his lips parted while his gaze was pure brimstone.
Swiftly, he cupped my cheek.
Oh, God.
Electricity instantly sparked beneath his fingertips.
Would I always suffer the rhapsody of his touch?
My skin smouldered; pinpricks of light, of fire, of hell, all burnished beneath his hold. I swayed, pressing my face harder into his palm.
He sucked in a breath, his fingers digging harder against my cheekbone.
The chemistry and need to devour each other thickened with every heartbeat.
One beat.
Two beat.
Three.
We stood there, frozen on the stoop of Hawksridge Hall just waiting for the other to move. The moment we did, our clothes would disintegrate and I would willingly let him drag me into a bush and fuck me.
Lust and tension swirled.
I had so many questions and doubts; so many reasons to hate and fear him. But when he touched me…poof.
I no longer remembered, nor cared.
We swayed closer, drawn against our will to close the aching distance.