to the chilled air and his gaze, and then closed his mouth over the peak of one breast.
“Hughhhh.” She tangled her fingers in his hair and anchored him there. Pressed her cheek against the top of his head as he laved that sensitive tip, suckling her.
Desire pooled between her legs and sent her hips into a rocking motion as old as time.
There was no thinking. There was no right or wrong or proper. And most important of all? There were no demons. It was just the two of them. And she knew what she wanted . . . what she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t know: this man. In every way.
He shifted his attention over to the previously neglected breast and worshipped at that flesh.
Until she was weeping and crying out his name.
Then he stopped, his hot breath fanning her bare skin, a sough upon flesh that he’d set aflame.
As he lifted his head, his burning gaze met hers. “Run now and be free, Flittermouse, because this is your last chance.” There was a dare there, in his eyes and in his words, and if he thought to scare her off by the power of his desire, he knew her not at all.
But then, you are more strangers than anything . . .
That voice of logic had no pull over the passion searing her veins.
Curling a palm around his nape, she brought herself up on her toes and kissed him.
He stiffened, and then a low groan shook his chest, its thrum and reverberations pulsing within her like the incessant, rhythmic beat of a drum.
Gathering her under her knees, Hugh swept her into his arms and started across the room . . .
He could have carried her anywhere, and she would have gone gladly with him in this moment because with her pulse hammering away in her ears, and her body afire as it was, she well understood the temptation in that apple Eve had abandoned all for.
Lila slid fingers through his lush black curls, relishing that luxuriant softness against her palms.
Hugh stopped, and for an unbearable moment she thought he intended to stop this . . . and whatever magic she yearned to know beyond it.
Only . . .
He carefully set her down upon a poster bed. The mattress was lumpy. The sheets coarse and cold. And she’d change nothing about this moment. And yet . . . reservations glinted in his eyes.
Shoving herself up onto her elbows, she peered at him through heavy lashes. “I want you, Hugh. I want this. And I don’t . . .”
No other words were needed.
Groaning, he came over her, framing her body with his larger, broader one. His lips were on hers.
And then they were everywhere.
A whispery sigh slipped out as he moved his mouth down the column of her neck, placing worshipping kisses, wicked little love bites, as he suckled that flesh where her pulse pounded for him and his mastery over her body.
“You are so beautiful,” he rasped against her skin, and she bit her lower lip to keep from crying out.
Then his words registered. Followed by the slight tug of her trousers as he freed her from them, exposing her and the truth that she wasn’t really the beauty he took her for.
Her heart thudded sickeningly as she exploded upright. “D-don’t,” she gasped out.
But it was too late.
He froze, his entire muscle-hewn frame turning to stone in her arms.
Because he’d seen her secret and now knew the truth.
And she, who’d survived hell on earth, found herself fighting off tears.
Batting at his shoulders, she tried to shove him off and break herself free. “Stop.”
Except he wasn’t doing anything, which was what made for the agony sweeping through her, great big waves of misery beating against her, battering her with a reminder of all the ways in which she was flawed.
And then, he stood up.
A tear slipped free. Followed by another. And another. As this time, she couldn’t stem the flow.
For she’d not believed there could be anything worse than his horror at the wicked scar down the length of her left leg.
But this? His rejection? Landed like a physical blow to her chest.
“This is why you weren’t getting into the stances,” he said quietly. “The reason you were stalling.”
She nodded, but unsteady as it was, unsteady as she was, it came as more of a sideways shake of her head. Of course, even in a moment of passion, he’d have full command of reason to put together the sham she’d