How was he ever going to walk away from her when the time came?
Pushing the thought aside, refusing to dwell on it—at least for this moment, he kissed her like a man possessed, his mouth wandering over her soft skin, outlining the shell of her ear, wrenching a sweet shiver from her.
His mouth, greedy, wanted to savor every inch. It searched for the bare skin of her shoulder, tracing along her collarbone. Her hair, which had fallen free from its pins, ran like silk through his fingers.
A witch, she had to be, for she had completely and utterly bewitched him.
He broke away from her, dragging in a lungful of air. “Honoria, I don’t think…” Words failed when she speared her fingers into his hair and yanked down.
“Stop thinking,” she said, her eyes delving into his. Stars sparkled in their depth.
“Dangerous things take shape when we are alone together.”
“If the shape is you, then I want all the danger I can get,” she confessed. “I want nothing more. Nothing less. Just you.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking.”
She hushed him with a finger. “I am asking for nothing more than this moment. Do not take this from me.”
“And after this moment has passed? What happens then?”
“Let us leave that up to fate.”
“You are the most peculiar woman.” He searched her face—her beautiful, heart-shaped face. He wanted to give her every opportunity to walk away, so that when she didn’t, she’d know beyond the shadow of a doubt she wanted this, him, as badly as he wanted her. “This is not how your first time ought to be.”
“This is everything I want it to be.” Her voice brushed over him, soft and sensual.
“I want you so badly I can’t breathe,” he admitted softly and lowered his forehead against hers. “I can’t sleep for knowing your bedchamber is across from mine. And when I do shut my eyes, you haunt my dreams, even before I saw your face; your voice guided me back to the light.”
“I dream of you, as well,” she confessed on a whisper. “I feel your arms holding me tight.”
“What else do you feel?”
“I feel your weight pressing into me, you kissing parts of me that—”
He cut off her words with his mouth, sliding his tongue between her lips. He had survived his childhood. He had survived seven months of long-suffering nights on his own. He had even survived the knife his brother plunged into his chest. But he would not survive the raw honesty of her words.
He pulled away, his gaze burning into hers. “Honoria,” he breathed.
“Aye?”
“What happens between us cannot be undone. Do you understand? One more second and I won’t be strong enough to stop.”
“Good.” She offered him a radiant smile. “Don’t stop.”
He bent his head to capture her lips again. This time, he did not stop. Had he been given a choice between drawing breath and her, he’d choose her every time.
“Lash,” she let out his name on a trembling breath. “What are you doing to me. . .”
“Loving you,monisha.”
His woman.
Lash didn’t believe in enchantment, but there was something magical about stripping away the clothes from her body. One by one, the layers of her clothing disappeared, tossed carelessly aside until there were no barriers beneath his touch.
She was no less urgent in her desires, grasping the shirt he wore in her small fists and tugging, hard. Buttons scattered across the floor.
Lash barely noticed. He teased the center of her breasts, savoring her peaks until they were puckered and tight. He felt primitive, wild. Defenseless.
