All The Ways To Ruin A Rogue(86)

            For her heart not to feel like a heavy, twisting mass inside her chest.

            She glanced to the door, heat itching up her neck, unable to stare at him so proudly exposed before her and know she couldn’t ever really have him—that he would always keep his heart from her. One thing, she realized, that she wanted from him.

            “I have to leave now, but this wasn’t a onetime occurrence. I’m not fool enough to think we can stop this from happening again. There’s no going back now. I don’t want to.” He made quick work of donning his clothes, leaving his shirt off and his hard-contoured chest exposed. A blessing and a torment. Her mouth dried as she eyed him. Was she supposed to disagree? She pasted a tight smile to her lips and lifted her chin a notch, trying to pretend that a physical-only relationship would be enough for her—that she didn’t yearn for more.

            He laughed low and dark, and the sound sent a shower of gooseflesh along her skin. Her pride asserted itself. Did he think she would languish about, waiting for the moment he turned his gaze to her and decided to bed her again?

            “Indeed.” She nodded once, squaring her shoulders. “I’ll let you know when the mood strikes me.”

            He chuckled and crossed the distance to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and hauling her against him. Her hands fluttered for a moment before coming to rest on his chest, the expanse of warm bare, satiny flesh stretched over hard muscle.

            “Indeed. Let me know.” The very mockery lacing his words fueled her determination to prove him wrong. One of his hands seized her bottom, pulling her tighter against him. She gasped. He was ready again, his manhood hard against her belly. “Something tells me I’ll be inclined whenever you are.” That chuckle again, deep and dark, rolled over her. “Just crook your finger. I’ll come running.”

            Then he released her. She took a staggering step before catching herself.

            He stopped at the door, one hand on the latch. “Until then.”

            She wanted to shout that there would not be a next time, but she would only sound temperamental. Like a child flinging forth a dare. A dare she felt fairly certain she would lose.

            Biting her tongue, she watched him pass into the adjoining room, the lean lines of his body disappearing from view.

            She backed up and sagged down onto the bed, feeling hot and flushed and achy and bewildered all at once. The memory of what they had done together, how it had felt . . .

            It took everything in her not to call him back again for a repeat performance. Pride kept her in check. As well as outrage and crushing disappointment. Love, children . . . she would have none of that with him.





            Chapter 21

            She didn’t crook a finger for him, and after a few days Max was beginning to think she never would.

            There was no invitation. Not even a come-hither glance. She was all politeness, to be sure. Pleasant even. But she wasn’t the Aurelia he knew. He thought after that morning together she would want him as much as he wanted her. Newly introduced to the delights of the flesh, she wouldn’t be able to stay away. No matter what she claimed.

            She had proved him wrong.

            He strolled about in a constant state of arousal, longing for his wife with a need that made his teeth ache. She avoided him as if a repeat performance were the last thing she desired. Perhaps she had decided that she didn’t want him. That he wasn’t enough . . . that what he was offering wasn’t enough.

            A bolt of panic shot through him that he quickly tamped down. He wasn’t so desperate that her rejection mattered. He merely hoped to reach some level of contentment in this marriage. For their sake, for his friendship with Will. Yes, he told himself. That was the only reason for that brief stab of panic. He wasn’t worried. Truly. He wasn’t.