Shadowdance(88)

Wilde sighed. “My apologies.” He glanced at Mary. “Give us a moment, Mistress Chase.”

“Of course.” On wooden limbs she rose and passed Director James, aware of the woman’s cool eyes upon her.

“And if Master Talent decides to grace us with his presence,” called Wilde as she left, “do let us know.”

It would be the very first thing on her mind, Mary thought bitterly. Once out in the dim stone corridor, she paused and released a sigh. “Bloody hell.”

The end of the hall opened to the common rooms. The chatter of her coworkers echoed along the walls, a happy sound that somehow managed to depress her. Not wanting to meet another person, she moved toward the small alcove just ahead, where Wilde liked to make delinquent regulators wait before he served punishment.

She’d reached the alcove when a hand whipped out and grabbed her arm. In a blur she was against the wall, and then he was on her. For she knew it was he. His scent and the feel of his body was as familiar as instinct now. Jack. All around her. The warm press of his chest, the hard bracket of his arms on either side of her shoulders. Protest ended with his mouth fitting to hers. Not a kiss but a method of silencing. She pushed against his mouth with hers, trying to buck him off. He was a mountain of strength and will.

He sucked in a breath, and then tilted his head, adjusting the angle of his attack. Everything became soft, melting heat, his lips nuzzling, nipping, claiming, as if nothing else mattered but here and now. And she was defenseless against it, her mind spinning and her body humming. The rough tips of his fingers found the hinges of her jaw, and he coaxed open her mouth to let him in. Before she could protest, he swooped down, kissing her fiercely, not making a sound as he surged into her.

Mary shuddered. Unable to move, only to feel. They were too exposed. Laughter and conversation echoed against stone, the sound of footfalls that could be coming from any direction tightened her skin. Her fingers dug into the crisp lawn shirt on either side of his trim waist, and he grunted, a near-soundless exhalation of air. His grip upon her grew more secure.

They were chest to chest, Jack’s heartbeat matching her own heart’s mad rhythm. His hot breath mixed with hers as he drew away just enough to come at her again, plundering with soft, steady intent. And she took it, letting that slick, warm tongue invade and tangle with hers until her body grew fevered-hot and needy.

Someone beyond called out to a friend, the sound overly loud and plucking at her nerves. As if fearing her escape, Jack leaned farther into her, and the thick length of his cock bunted into the softness of her belly. Damn her black soul, she wanted to open her legs and guide him inside where he’d fill her emptiness. The very idea had her whimpering.

“Shh,” he whispered into her mouth, his fingertips tracing down her neck, an eruption of shivers breaking out in his wake. “Shh. Just once more.” He kissed her again, hot, silent, and deep. The wet glide of his tongue traced her upper lip, then licked inside her mouth. She shivered, her nipples hard and pained against her bodice. As if he felt it, he sighed into her. “Mary. You won’t talk to me, and I can’t think of any other way to show you.”

Tears prickled behind her lids. How very much she wanted to tell him that it did not matter what he’d done. She wanted him. She would always want him. At the cost of her pride. Her movements were sluggish, her body protesting her will, but she turned aside, breaking his kiss. He did not move away. Nor did she have it in her to push him off.

They leaned into each other, her fingers still tangled in his shirt, and his lips brushing against her temple with every soft exhalation he took. Warm fingertips pressed into the sensitive skin of her neck, holding there as if to feel her pulse. His body shaking, he burrowed his nose into her hair, as though seeking comfort. “Tell me how to make amends.”

Mary swallowed, her throat moving against his touch. “You—I cannot—”

“I should have honored you from the first moment we met. I know that now.” His thumb caressed her neck, an awkward touch as though he fought against it. “Because I wanted to. So very badly. You are my world, even when I didn’t want you to be.”

His world? He’d turned her world into a dark fog. He pierced her heart and made that rusty device feel tender and soft. And sad. Unbearably so. “You have to let me go.” She did not think she could stand another moment of his regret. Not now.

His fingers tensed, biting into her skin. “You might as well ask me to cut off a limb.” His mouth touched her brow. “Honor, logic, whatever it is that good men have, is lost to me when I am with you. You’re mine, and I am yours. You kissed me and everything changed.”