All The Ways To Ruin A Rogue(59)
“Or what?” She thrust her face close to his.
His gaze flicked over her features. “You think I’m jesting? I will go to your brother.”
She held his gaze a moment longer before demanding, “Why are you really doing this? It’s not to protect me. You care nothing for me.”
That seemed to silence him. She took his silence for agreement. He was certainly not denying her claim. She turned to glare out at the darkened garden. For some silly reason her eyes stung.
“Of course I care for you.”
“Because of Will,” Aurelia accused.
“Because I can’t get you of my mind.” He swore and flung his hands in the air before dragging them through his hair. “Your desirability is unquestionable,” he allowed, his voice grudging. “But you know that.”
She blinked. “Why would I know that?”
He peered at her through the gloom. “You’ve seen men look at you—”
She snorted. “Where? At Sodom? That’s because they believed me a soiled dove. It doesn’t count.”
“You’ve seen the way I look at you.”
“Like you want to strangle me? Yes.” She snorted again and laughed awkwardly. “I’ve noticed that on occasion.”
“True. Sometimes I look at you like that.” Humor edged his voice as he circled her wrist with hard fingers and reeled her in. She dug in her heels. “But that’s not the only way I look at you.” His voice dropped to a husky murmur that made her skin ripple with heat.
She opened her mouth, but the words were wedged too deeply in her throat. He pressed her palm flat against his chest. She stared at her pale fingers, slim and long, splayed wide against the dark fabric of his vest. She could feel his heart pounding through the fine fabric.
His deep voice continued, vibrating against her hand, “Sometimes I look at you like I’m looking at you now.”
She swallowed and forced the words up to her lips. They escaped in a tremulous whisper, “I can’t see you well enough. It’s too dark.” Not entirely true. She saw the way his eyes gleamed in the night. As though lit from inside.
“Then perhaps you can feel how it is I’m looking at you.”
Before she could ask him how it was possible to feel that, he took her hand and dragged it up to his mouth. He pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her palm.
His lips grazed her as he talked, sending sparks through her body. “Can you feel this? It’s how I’m looking at you. Like I want, no—need to kiss you.” She gasped at the feel of his tongue against her sensitive skin. ”Lick you, taste you. Here—” His mouth moved to the inside of her wrist. “And here.” He trailed kisses up the inside of her arm.
Her chest tightened, aching. And then his lips were at her throat. His mouth closed over her pulse point. A jagged moan spilled from her lips and her knees gave out. His arm snaked around her waist, catching her against him.
His teeth scraped a trail up to her ear. He gently pulled the lobe between his lips, laving with his tongue and then biting down. A sharp stab of pleasure pounded to life between her legs and she groaned.
“Everywhere,” he breathed into her ear.
“Stop. Please,” she begged hoarsely, arching her head to the side. “I don’t require this manner of convincing from you to make myself feel better. We’ve spent years despising each other—”
“Convincing?” he growled into her ear, one hand finding its way into her hair, spearing through the heavy strands. “As though this isn’t real? When have I ever pretended with you?”