been going wrong. He’d hidden behind the smooth, modern armor he wore all the time. He’d been polite, thinking he could tempt her with the easy things—money, comfort, power, and position.
Sylvie needed more. She needed to see the part of him no one else got to see, the one he denied ninety-nine percent of the time.
He reached up and gripped the nape of her neck, something primal flowing through him. “I wanted to give you a chance to see the world before I brought you into mine, before I made you my whole damn world, Sylvie.”
He didn’t care that he was soaking wet and she’d managed to get dry. All that mattered was his mouth on hers, her arms winding around him, that sigh that came from her right before he kissed her.
This was what he’d needed to do. He’d been careful around her, but she needed his honest emotion. He could give her this. He needed to give her this.
He devoured her mouth, no more of the careful, cautious kisses he’d given her every night of the last week. He wasn’t seducing this time. He was begging. He was asking for her warmth, for her to be the breath that could sustain him.
The kiss was wild and sweet, her lips opening for him, tongue sliding softly against his. She wasn’t merely offering for him to take her, but rather giving herself over to the experience, demanding he give every bit as much as he took.
When he felt her hand delve under his shirt, he knew he couldn’t stay out here. He leaned over and picked her up, hauling her easily into his arms.
Her face had that slightly dreamy look that always made him feel like he was ten feet tall, and her arms went around his neck. “You can’t keep carrying me around everywhere.”
He liked to do it because she always gasped and then her body softened, a Cheshire Cat grin coming over her face. She liked it when he carried her around. “I don’t see why not. You don’t weigh a thing.”
Her eyes widened, but so did her grin. “I certainly do. I’m not exactly tiny.”
She was compared to him, and she was the perfect weight. She was simply perfection in his eyes. “I’ll always carry you, Sylvie. I will definitely always carry you to bed.”
“I thought we were fighting.”
“And this feels like the best way to figure out who wins.” He rather thought they both would.
He strode through to the main bedroom. There were two, with one being filled with bunk beds, and one private room his father had always used. He knew he should wait until they were in the luxury of his own room, but he didn’t care. They’d had a week to do this in luxurious surroundings. Now, out in nature in the middle of a thunderstorm, seemed perfect.
“Is everything a battle to you?” she asked as he walked through the door. She’d turned on the small lantern, and it gave the room a rosy glow.
“Yes,” he admitted. “Everything lately has been. I’ve fought everyone lately. Hell, it wasn’t so long ago I fought a damn SUV. Don’t think I won’t fight for this. I want this more than I want my next breath. We don’t need to talk. We need to feel. I feel when I’m with you.”
She stared at him, the heat back in her gaze, and he knew he had her. “Kiss me again. I don’t have to think at all when you’re kissing me.”
That was how he should keep her then. If she thought too long, she could come up with a hundred ways she was better off without him. She would remember that his family was terrible and he wasn’t great at expressing himself and she could do better.
But he wasn’t letting her go this time. She’d slipped out of his trap because he’d had a conscience back then. Now the only thing that mattered was binding her to him.
He kissed her again, letting their mouths meld and mesh, sinking into the sensation of having her close.
He lowered her to the bed and pulled his shirt off, tossing it to the side. He kicked off his shoes.
She got to her knees and put her hands on his chest, her eyes looking up at him. “Do you truly want me, Rene? Tell me this isn’t some ploy to get me to stay around because I fit into your plans.”
“You are my plans,” he said. “And I wanted you back then.