Her deep blue eyes flashed with what seemed a subtle challenge. In a heartbeat, Amelia veiled her gaze with her lashes, as if she’d revealed more than she had intended.
But he had seen a truth she could not deny. She enjoyed his touch, the fleeting, not-quite-innocent contact, just as she’d savored the moment they’d given into temptation at the tavern.
Wickedness does possess a certain allure. But in my experience, it is rather overrated.
When Amelia had spoken the words, he’d sensed a hint of a dare in her tone. But then, his impulsive kiss had turned into more.
Her lips had tasted of desire. Of passion. And yet, there had been an innocence about her sweet response that confounded him. She was a widow. No doubt she’d learned the ways of men and women. But she had reacted to their caress as if the experience of seduction was very new.
God above, how he wanted to teach her true pleasure. Skin to skin. Heat kindling with each touch. With each kiss.
Amelia would respond to him. She would mirror his passion. Deep within, he knew that much to be true.
But he knew better than to risk the alliance they were building. She trusted him to protect her. To defend her. To tell her the truth. For now, that would have to be enough.
Or so he’d thought until she reached for him.
Dancing her fingertips along the line of his jaw, hunger flickered in her gaze. “I want you to do something for me.” Her voice had gone low. Sultry.
Curiosity warred with the instinct to taste her lips. “And what might that be?”
The tips of her fingers danced idly over him. Gently touching his hair. Skimming the skin above his collar where his overly long strands grazed his neck. Trailing the angle of his jaw.
God above, was this some bittersweet torment she had devised for reasons only she could fathom?
“Promise me you will not take foolish risks,” she said. “I could not bear it if you were harmed.”
“I’ve outgrown foolish risks,” he said, even as he contemplated taking one. If he kissed her again—truly kissed her—would she welcome the caress?
Or would he shatter the fragile connection they had forged?
She studied him. Her mouth curved slightly at the corners, as though she’d read his thoughts. “But only foolish risks, I take it.”
Holding himself still, he nodded. For the span of several breaths, he watched her. Allowing her time to make her wants clear. Time to retreat if she needed to pull back from this moment. Time to retire to her own room.
Her own bed.
A soft sigh escaped her. She edged closer, closing the space between them.
Again, she nibbled her lower lip. “Some risks are worth taking, are they not?” Her voice was silky, softly confident.
He curved his arms around her, bringing her closer. “Indeed.”
She did not ease away. If anything, she intensified the contact. “At times, I wonder if I still have the courage to take a risk.”
He drank in her beauty. “If ye didn’t, ye wouldn’t be here... here with me.”
“As I recall, you were rather confident that I would appreciate... oh, how did you phrase it?” She flashed a sly grin. “Oh, that’s it—a taste of sin.”
Blast it, she was intent on driving him to madness. But he held his voice steady. Casual, even. “I do recall that conversation. And I stand by my words.”
“Is that so, Logan MacLain?”
Much more of this, and he would call her bluff. Ah, his name would be on her lips. But uttered with need. With passion. Rather than the challenge that now flavored her tone.
“Could you have any doubt, Amelia?” He spoke her name as a caress.
Her eyes widened, ever so slightly, as color rose to her cheeks. A lush smile tempted him beyond all rational thought.
