Cold fear had her jerking her head to the side. Awkwardly he followed, but when she wrenched her head the other way he stilled. A ribald curse broke from him before he stopped and pressed his forehead against the wall beside her. A second later his fist smashed into the stone. Mary twitched, but held steady. He was all around her, his big body boxing her in, no longer touching her but an effective cage nonetheless. Every heavy breath he took sent his chest brushing against hers as they stood, neither of them willing to move.
“So only he can touch you.” Beneath the sharp lash of his anger was the sound of frustration, perhaps disappointment. It shocked her but not enough to stay her bitter response.
“He did not seek to mock me with his touch. You do.”
Talent leaned back. His expression was a hard mask. But his grip claimed her waist once more, steady and calm. “You have no notion what I seek.”
She turned, her cheek meeting the cool stone. She could not face him. Not so close on the heels of her humiliation. And she knew damn well that he’d sought to put her in her place now. The knowledge made her final shot cold. “No,” she snapped. “Because you trust no one, do you?”
“No.”
Not one second of hesitation. Mary scoffed. “And yet you’d take all my secrets if you could. Would you not, Master Talent?”
Jack squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed down the urge to tug Chase back to him. The scent of her arousal surrounded him, darkly sweet like hot syrup. A miracle and a torment. God, he wanted to lick her up, drown in her rich fragrance. But he was not a fool. She made it clear his kiss was not welcome. Jack knew perfectly well that arousal could occur without consent. And he would never take what wasn’t offered.
Damn it, but the memory of what he’d done last night burned so hot within that his aching cods drew up tight, begging for release. Jesus, he’d been a fool. Thought he’d teach her a lesson, had he? When all he’d done was engage in the most erotic act of his life, with her. Yet she hadn’t touched him. He wanted that touch. Did he want her secrets as well?
“Yes.” He leaned a shoulder against the wall, settling directly behind her. “I’d take them from you.” His lips skimmed along the crown of her head, and a shiver worked deep within his belly.
She shivered too. It should have been a triumph, but it wasn’t. Not when he feared it just might be from disgust. She knew what had been done to him, after all. Did she think him less of a man now? Today she had run from him as if she might never look him in the eye again. It had set off a boiling rage. Because he knew that day would soon come. They were too close now. Eventually he’d have to tell her everything, of what he’d done to her and why.
“I deserve something,” he murmured, distracted by the scent of her. Mary. Mary Chase. The one woman he couldn’t have. Not when she finally learned the full truth about him.
Her quick breath sounded in the silence, and she responded with clipped anger. “What do you want?”
Everything. To be another man. A better man.
She’d watched him take his pleasure, her ghostly form hovering close, her eyes wide, her lips parted softly as if she wondered what it would feel like to touch him. Or perhaps it truly was horror she’d felt. He hadn’t held back as a gentleman might. He’d been raw, unfettered, when he took himself in hand and thought of her. Those lips taking over the job of his hand, sweetly sucking him off. God, he wished it had been so, and not simply a fancy of his desperate imagination.
Jack struggled to regain control of his breathing, to regain control of himself. The pads of his fingers burned hot against the satin hugging her waist. “How—” His voice broke, weak and hungry. He hated the sound. He tried again, stronger this time. “How did you find me?”
The intricate knot of her coiffure brushed his lips as she turned her head slightly, and another heady rush of her scent filled his senses. Jack gritted his teeth. Control. Control.
“You won’t like it,” she said.
So soft, that voice of hers. Would her skin be thus? Would it be hot silk? Or cool satin?
“No,” he agreed. “I won’t.” His fingers twitched along her bodice, grasping, then resisting. “Tell me anyway.”
Her sides lifted on a sigh. “You know my scent. Well, I know your soul.”
Everything in him went still and quiet. “Know it?” His heart began to beat again, a hard, insistent thud.
She faced forward, but being taller, he could see the smooth curve of her cheek and the gilded tips of her thick lashes. “When you were lost to us before…”
Us. As if he was connected to her.