"You let him touch you."
Lily spun quickly to find Simon standing in the shadows. His normally grey eyes had changed to black. His hair hung over his brow in disarray, as though he'd been running his hands through it.
"What did you say?" Certainly she hadn't heard him correctly. "What are you doing here? Did you follow me?"
He approached her, anguish in his eyes as he cupped her face. He repeated, "You let him touch you."
"He was just being friendly, Simon." She shook her head to throw off the hand that held her cheek, but he refused to let her go.
"He wasn't being friendly, Lily. He wanted you, just like every other man here." He looked down at her décolletage and then brushed his fingertips along her shoulder. She shivered. This wasn't fair. He was what she wanted more than anything.
"I think you've had too much punch, Simon," she snapped. Then she could say no more because the air whooshed from her lungs when he pulled her to himself, hard and fast.#p#分页标题#e#
"I have had a bit," he said quietly against her lips. "But now I plan to have a bit more."
That was when she realized he wasn't talking about punch.
***
Simon had watched her the whole night. He'd watched her laugh and dance with other men, their hands at her waist, her hand in theirs. And he'd grown more frustrated and apprehensive. It should have been him. He should be the only one she danced with. The only one she'd touched.
When he'd seen Emory approach her, it had been all he could do not to bellow across the dance floor. It took all of his strength to stop himself from crossing the room and tearing Emory limb from limb. He could imagine himself flinging small pieces of the man into the fronds of the plants. He hoped a piece wouldn't land in the punch bowl. That would be quite improper.
But then Emory had led Lily outside. Into the dark. Into the night. Into his domain.
The moon still hung high and full in the sky. It wasn't as powerful as before, but it still led him. It did not control him, but it did lead.
He watched as Emory trailed his finger across her cheek. She didn't shove him away. Perhaps she'd enjoyed it. Then Emory took her hand in his. He'd wanted to jump through the bushes that separated them and carry her away. But he held himself back, watching her reaction.
Now she had the nerve to look at him as though he'd done something wrong. He would show her. He would show her what he could do for her. He would show her what she'd be missing if she chose anyone else over him.
He bent at the waist and hoisted her over his shoulder.
"What are you doing, Simon?" she gasped.
"Do be quiet, Lily love. Or you'll draw a crowd. I'm sure you don't want that, since I'm about to have my way with you."
"You will do no such thing," she gasped.
"Watch and see, Lily." He chuckled to himself as he slipped his hand beneath her skirt and clutched the back of her thigh. She hit at his back with her fists. The blows were more annoying than painful, like a bug that flies in your face but never stings you. He strode further down the darkened garden path.
As soon as they were far away from the light of the assembly hall and any wayward strollers who might also want to take advantage of the cover of darkness, he stopped and put her down. Her face was red, the silky skin of her neck and shoulders blotchy.
She moved to walk around him. "I am going back, Simon. I don't know what you think you're doing."
He stopped her by grabbing her wrist and spinning her around. He ran his knuckles across her cheek. His hand shook with the effort it took to go slowly. "Did his touch feel like mine?" he asked.
"You're being ridiculous, Simon." She stomped, but she also leaned her face into his hand. He knew she didn't intend to, but she stretched into him like a cat who wanted to be stroked. And stroke her, he would.
He cupped her face as her hand came up to hold his. His lips hovered over hers, barely brushing them as he said, "Tell me my touch is better."
She tried to fight it. He knew she did. He saw the battle as it played across her face. She failed miserably.
"Tell me," he breathed as he brought his free hand up to cup her breast. His thumb brushed her nipple. Her eyes closed, and a breath rushed from her.
#p#分页标题#e#
"Yes," she said quietly, looking into his eyes as his lips touched hers softly. But she still hadn't said it. She hadn't done what he wanted.
"Yes, what?" he teased as he brushed her nipple again.
"Your touch is better," she acquiesced before pulling his lips firmly against hers.