Chapter 15 #3
His body wavered, but deep in his soul he knew this was wrong.
He could not let her sacrifice herself, her future, her soul, for him.
He would not be the cause of her failing her father.
He knew how hard she’d worked to prove herself.
Being here with him was a mistake. He couldn’t give her what she needed. This had to stop. Here. Now.
“It won’t change anything, Meg. I can’t offer you what you want.”
“I’m not asking for promises,” she said quietly. “All I want is you.”
Heart pounding, he unlaced her arms from around his neck, took her by her shoulders, and set her away from him. He tried to steady his voice as he said, “No. I don’t want to do this.”
She looked as though he’d struck her. Her eyes scanned his face, searching for any weakness. He forced his expression to stay hard, unyielding. He could almost see her mind filter through his words, analyzing what he’d said.
His heart wrenched as her face flooded with shame and humiliation.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice trembling. “I thought you wanted …,” The words drifted away. Her cheeks burned scarlet, like two vivid handprints against a pale canvas. She could barely speak through the emotion strangling her voice. “No, it doesn’t matter what I thought.”
She flew to the door, gathering her cloak in one swift motion.
Hell, he’d made a mess of this. Alex grabbed her arm to stop her. “Meg, you misunderstand. It’s not that I don’t want you—”
“Please,” she stopped him, precariously close to tears.
“You don’t have to say anything else.” She tried to smile, but her lips trembled.
“It’s obvious that I jumped to the wrong conclusion.
” Her cheeks burned with humiliation. “Look at you. Look at me. I’m sure things like this happen to you all the time, women throwing themselves at you,” she said with forced brightness.
Her wobbly composure broke him.
He swore, pulling her against him. He wanted to shake her for pushing him. Curse her for forcing this between them. Damn it, how could she doubt his desire? He took her hand and brought it between them, showing her how much he wanted her. “God, don’t you feel what you do to me?”
Eyes startled, she nodded.
“You don’t know what you are asking for, Meg. Go back to your room.”
She shook her head and tentatively molded her fingers around him. Almost stroking him. He groaned as the dark sensations rushed through him. His stomach muscles clenched, and his cock pulsed with need.
“No,” she said, refusing for the final time.
His control snapped. To hell with it. He’d tried to warn her. He was done denying what had been building between them from the first moment he’d seen her across the battlefield. The time for reckoning had come. She was going to learn just how much he wanted her.
He kissed her savagely, wildly. Finally unharnessing the violent passion that she aroused in him.
He kissed her harder, punishing her with his mouth for what she was doing to him.
For how she made him feel. For being the right woman at the wrong time.
But if he’d hoped to scare her, he was wrong.
Meg welcomed his fervor, returning it with her own.
There were no secrets left between them—or their bodies, at least.
She’d pushed him too hard. There was only so much torture a man could take.
The warmth of her hand around him was it.
Alex would not let himself think, even though a part of him knew exactly what this meant.
Right now he was beyond thinking. His body craved hers, in a way that he had never before experienced.
This was about possession. He moved with one purpose, to make her his.
She belonged to him. Forever. And somehow, nothing had ever seemed more right.
He wanted her.
Meg should be shocked by the intimate placement of her hand, but instead the proof of his desire seemed to shatter the final barrier between them. She wanted to feel him, she wanted to touch his body. To sever all secrets between them.
So she gave herself over to him, holding nothing back. She believed in him, trusted him. If he would not listen to her words, she would show him with her body.
The power, the vehemence of his kiss, told her what he could not. Her heart burst with pleasure. Passion that she did not know she possessed broke free.
The stubble of his beard burned her cheeks as his mouth slanted over hers.
His hands pushed through her hair, forcing her head back to deepen the kiss.
There was nothing gentle about his movements.
But despite the raw energy of his passion, there was still something deeply tender in the primitive nature of his need.
She, Meg Mackinnon, had shattered the mask of indifference.
Her heart swelled with love for this amazing man.
She lifted her hand to rest on his sprawling chest, savoring the excited pounding of his heart under his thin shirt.
She was driving him crazy, and it emboldened her like nothing else.
Her hands roamed brazenly across his chest and back, tracing the hard edges of his body, pressing him closer, molding their bodies together as one.
His mouth moved across her jaw and down the curve of her neck as his fingers quickly worked the laces of her gown and stays.
The beautiful emerald brocade gown that she’d chosen with such care to entice was soon lying in a puddle around her feet, until all that remained covering her nakedness was a thin sark.
His mouth lowered, moving down to the sensitive skin above her bodice. Deftly, he loosened the tie to bare her breasts.
“God, you are beautiful.” He admired her with his hands, cupping her and then skimming down the curve of her stomach and hips like a sculptor.
His mouth was achingly warm as he found her nipple.
He sucked, and a needle of sensation shot through her body.
She loved the brush of his rough chin against her skin as his tongue swirled and nipped, until each tip hardened into a tight bud.
Molten heat flooded her body; her senses were drowning in desire.
The area between her legs shivered and hungered, craving—no, demanding—fulfillment.
In her eagerness, her hand unknowingly grazed his waist, over the swollen round tip of his erection.
Alex flinched, sucking in his breath. Beneath his shirt, the muscles of his stomach rippled into taut parallel bands.
“Careful, sweet,” he said tenderly, if unevenly, “or this will be over before it has begun.”
Meg flushed. “I’m sorry.”
His fingers lifted her chin, so he could look in her eyes.
“For what? For making me want you too badly?” He smiled.
“If you touch me, I will lose control. It is sometimes painful the first time for a woman. I want to concentrate on giving you pleasure.” He paused, looking at her intently. “Do you understand?”
She nodded.
He kissed her again, and the brief poignant moment dissolved in the building storm of passion brewing between them.
Deftly, he lifted her sark over her head.
But before she had time to become embarrassed, he gathered her in his arms and carried her to his bed, laying her down almost reverently.
The look in his eyes made her chest squeeze.
Meg knew that she would never forget this moment.
In his eyes, she saw the fulfillment of her dreams.
Though the summer evening was warm, she felt a sudden chill from leaving the protection of his arms. Little sensitive bumps appeared across her naked flesh, heightening her senses with anticipation.
“God, how I’ve dreamed of this,” he said, lifting off his shirt and tossing it on the floor. His eyes moved across her bare skin, warming her instantly, burning a path from her head to the tips of her toes. “You are perfect.”
She loved the huskiness in his voice. Meg hardly knew how to respond, her initial modesty eviscerated by his admiration and then by the powerful tanned chest and arms that blocked all rational thought.
“So are you,” she said. And he was. She would never get used to the perfectly chiseled masculine features or the sensual appeal of his powerful body.
He was so much larger than her, so obviously male.
His arms and chest were deeply tanned and smooth except for the thin triangle of golden hair below his neck.
There was not one spare ounce of flesh on his muscled torso.
He seemed ripped from steel without the bulk of most heavily muscled men.
His trews hung low on his hips, emphasizing the hard lines of his flat stomach. He sat on the edge of the bed and lowered his mouth to her breast, sucking until she arched against him and cried out. Smothering her cries with his mouth and tongue, he dusted his hand across her stomach, then lower.
She sighed, sinking deeper into the bed.
Her body pooled with the hot memory of what he’d done to her before.
She wanted that feeling again. Craved it.
This time, he did not tease her but entered her gently with his finger, holding her gaze until her lids lowered and her head dropped back with the power of the sensations he wrought within her.
The rhythmic motion of his fingers drove all coherent thought from her mind. Her attention was consumed by the mastery of his hand.
He stroked her and stroked her until she writhed under him. Until her body grew slick with need. Until she felt the steady building toward the promise of the sweetest release.
Alex watched her eyes close as her head fell back on his pillow, tossing back and forth in sweet agony. He watched her body writhe with desire. His hand worked languidly between her legs, even as his own body cried out with urgency.