At the moment, all he gave a damn about was the woman who stood before him. And how bloody much he wanted to kiss her.
What was it about Amelia that made the prospect of a mere kiss seem a seduction?
His arms eased around her, bringing her close. She was warm and soft and tempting, despite the layers of clothing covering her gentle curves. God above, how he wanted to strip away each blasted too-proper garment, one by one, until she was bared to his eyes.
Her little sigh against his ear spoke of longing. Of hunger. God above, he wanted her to need his touch. Blasted shame this was neither the place nor the time.
But damned if he could stop himself from kissing her.
Lowering his head, he claimed her lips. Slowly, at first. Gently. Until Amelia moaned softly against his mouth, urging him to touch her.
Hunger surged through him. His desire for her was akin to torment. He needed her with a fierceness unlike any he’d ever experienced. He wanted her touch. Wanted to hear her whispers of desire. And more. So much more than she was ready to give.
Blasted shame he could not allow himself to taste her beyond the sweetness of her kiss.
*
The moment Logan’slips teased hers, Amelia’s heart felt whole again. Claiming her tenderly, he deepened the caress. Joy danced through her. In this moment, a pure contentment that seemed quite rare filled her. His touch mended the rips and tears inflicted by a loveless marriage, his caress binding the wounds she’d feared would never heal.
Would every kiss feel like this?
Would his nearness always inspire this feeling, this heady sense that being in his arms was utterly right?
Holding her closer, Logan pressed her to his long, lean body. The undeniable proof of his hunger strained against his trousers, and she canted her hips in instinctive longing. Breathing in the subtle spice of shaving soap on his jaw, she curved her fingers around his arms. Beneath her fingertips, the muscles of his back flexed. Strong. Sleek. Powerful. How delightful it would be to touch his skin if he were bared to her.
If his body were hers to caress.
Hers to explore.
Hers to love.
“Ah, Amelia, ye will drive me to madness,” he breathed against her lips, even as his hands skimmed the length of her back.
A jarring crash of metal against the hardwood floor in the backroom cut through Amelia’s bliss. Logan’s hands fell away.
“Murray’s picked a blasted fine time to drop every kettle in the place,” he grumbled.
As if perfectly timed to offer Amelia a reprieve from her own temporary madness, the barkeep emerged from the back room bearing a tray filled with freshly washed tumblers. EvadingLogan’s scowl, the barkeep carried the tray to the shelf behind the bar and efficiently went about his task.
Logan’s gaze brimmed with reluctance. “We will continue this particular conversation later, lass. On that, ye have my word.”
“I must admit, I found our discussion most intriguing,” Amelia said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Did ye now?” he teased.
“I’m quite certain you already know that.”
“I suspected as much,” he said, his voice edged with gravel.
She smiled to herself, seeing that her touch had affected him every bit as much as his had stirred her heart.
His eyes flashed with delicious challenge. My, this man was born to tempt her, wasn’t he?
She didn’t hold back her smile. “You are a bold one, Mr. MacLain.”
“Amelia, ye only know the half of it.”
The thought was thrilling, but stirred a hint of doubt deep within her core. Was she wading into waters far too deep?
