He didn’t reply. The night air was crisp and cold, but the heat of her body seemed scorching hot, even from several inches away. The scent of her perfume was in his nostrils, his heart was thudding like a trip-hammer, and his wits were hopelessly fogged.
“What about you?”
He frowned at the sound of her voice, trying to think. “Me?”
She stirred, moving a few inches closer. “Don’t you want to know? I know I do.”
His wits felt thick as tar, his body was fully aroused, and he had no idea what she was talking about. “Know what?”
Her lashes lowered, but there was nothing demure about her glance over his body. “What it would be like.”
She looked up at him again as she closed the last scrap of distance between them. Her breasts brushed against his chest, her hip touched his groin, and the pleasure of the contact nearly drove him to his knees.
He groaned, and the sound impelled him to grasp one last time for sanity. “Whatwhatwould be like?”
She lifted her hands between them, cupping his face in her palms as she rose on her toes. “Lighting matches,” she whispered and kissed him.
12
Having been married three times, Delia had experienced many kisses in her life. The sweet, shy kisses of youth, the knowledgeable ones of experience, the tender ones of mutual affection. But no kiss had ever been like this.
No kiss had ever turned her blood to molten lava, burning away all her strength and melting her very bones. No kiss had ever ignited desire this quick or pleasure this hot.
Until now.
Simon had warned her that it might be like this, at least for him, but she hadn’t been able to believe such a thing was possible for herself. How could she? Bit by bit, husband by husband, disillusionment, heartbreak, and grief had eroded any romantic or sexual feeling she’d ever had, and for the past five years, no man had ignited even the tiniest spark of her feminine interest. But from their very first meeting, this man had aggravated her, provoked her, and challenged her in ways no man ever had before, and in the process, he had somehow reawakened longing and lust within her, two things she never thought she would feel again. Now, his kiss was doing far more than reigniting long-forgotten needs and desires; it was transmuting theminto something beyond all her previous experience. She had dared to play with fire, and this was the result: an exhilarating, dizzying, blazing-hot ride. Like flying into the sun.
She ought to pull away now, she supposed, before either of them could get burned. She had a history with men, one that didn’t bode well for Simon, or for her. And yet, this awakened hunger was too strong, and her starved body refused to listen to her mind’s reminders of past pain. Hungry for more of this intoxicating pleasure before life inevitably snatched it away, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his.
His response was all she could have hoped for. He made a rough sound against her mouth and his arms came up, wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer as his tongue pressed against her closed lips, urging them to part.
Happily, willingly, she complied, raking her hand through his hair as she tasted his mouth and reveled in the sensual storm. She felt the throb of life surging through every cell and every nerve, and the pleasure began to seem like pain, the pain of pure joy, as her frozen heart began to thaw.
His hands slid down, cupping her buttocks as he lifted her onto the very tips of her toes, until her hips were pressed to his. In a position of such scorching intimacy, there was no mistaking his arousal, and Delia moaned against his mouth. “Come to my room,” she heard herself say. “We can—”
His hands gripped her shoulders, hard, cutting her off midsentence. “God, you are the most relentless woman alive,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “Why are you doing this?”
She could hear her own rapid breathing and his; she could see it, too, white clouds mingling in the still, cold night air. She could hear her heart thudding in her chest, and she’d have sworn on her life thatshe could hear his, too. Desire was like a living thing, pulsing and seething between them. And she knew the only answer she could give him was the truth.
“Because I want you,” she said simply. “And,” she added as he gave a humorless laugh, “I know that you want me. Deny it if you must,” she added as he shook his head, “but we both know I’m right.”
He shook his head again, but he didn’t let her go. Instead, his hands tightened on her shoulders. “I can’t do this,” he muttered and gave her a little shake. “Damn it, Delia, I can’t. I won’t.”
“Why not?” She gave a wild little laugh. “You wouldn’t be taking an innocent virgin. I’m a fully experienced woman, and I know what this means. And anyway, who’s to know?”
“I would.” He let her go then, his hands sliding away, his voice telling her there was no point in further discussion. “I would know.”
She stared at him, feeling suddenly raw, exposed, and vulnerable in a way she’d never felt before.
With an abrupt move, he turned and left her, striding away into the darkness beyond the ring of lamplight, vanishing from view before she could even assimilate that he was gone.
She didn’t follow him. Her knees were so weak, she wasn’t even sure she could walk, and she sagged back against the balustrade, her lips burning, her nerves raw, her body aching with unfulfilled need.
Delia pressed her fingers to her mouth with a grimace, appreciating that she had just been kissed within an inch of her life, and then, without any reason or warning, spurned and decidedly rejected. Not that she could blame him, really, given the fate of all the men who had come before.
So much, she thought ruefully, for lighting matches around gunpowder.
Simon didn’t get a wink of sleep. Instead, he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, cursing himself, his body in full rebellion against what he’d done. It had been ages since he’d been with a woman, and when he had one, warm and willing, in his arms, he’d pushed her away. When, as she had pointed out, no one would have seen, no one would have known.
