His blood rushed hot under his skin and he could feel the heat tightening his muscles. He wanted her, wanted Mae. Not just the man in him, but the beast too.
Deep within, the beast turned, pressing to be released. Pressing to be with Mae, to taste her. To claim her.
Cedar jerked his head back and stepped away until his spine scraped against the other side of the hall. He pulled his arms to his side, each hand in a fist. His heart was pounding too hard, and it was all he could do to keep his breathing calm.
“It’s against my better judgment,” he said huskily.
Mae smiled just slightly, her eyes still shut. “Mine too, Mr. Hunt. But these are dire times. And we all must do that which we can to find our happiness among the ruins.” She opened her eyes. Studied him.
Cedar couldn’t know how she saw him. Maybe his anger. Maybe his desire. He tried his best to calm himself, to calm the needs clashing within him.
Mae’s expression shifted from amused to puzzled. Then her eyebrows slipped up. “Oh,” she said.
“Mae—” He took a step, his hand out. To explain. To make an excuse for his thoughts. To tell her he understood her husband had just set to the grave and she needed time. Time to grieve. Maybe to tell her he would wait. Forever for her, if need be.
But she did not move. Just held his gaze as if she could see right through the whole of him, as if she could see his soul.
And did not find it lacking.
So he took a step closer. Still she did not move. Did not say a word. Did not look away.
She was breathing a little more rapidly. He could almost feel the beat of her pulse thudding beneath her smooth, pale skin as if it were his own. He wanted to run his fingers along the curves of her body, wanted to taste her, bury himself in her heat.
He took another step. And then he spread one palm against the wall behind her, needing the cold, rough rock to remind him this wasn’t a dream. Wasn’t a promise for anything more than this.
And this was simply now.
“Mae,” he said again. He stood so tight to her, she had to tip her face up to meet his eyes. If either of them moved just an inch, they would be touching. He held himself steady, straining to give her even that much space. “If you say no…”
She shook her head. Then, quietly. “I’m not saying no.”
Cedar leaned down and slipped his hand around her waist so that he could draw her the last fraction of distance toward him.
Even through the layers of her day dress and wrapped in a blanket, she was soft, warm, supple in his arms. He pulled her up closer against his chest, hips, thighs. She melted there, as if savoring, hungering for the sudden, needful contact.
Cedar did not remove his palm from the wall. He didn’t dare chance it. For if he did, he would gather her up, and take her away. To a land of his choice, a place where he could guard her, keep her, love her.
The beast in his mind keened for that freedom.
But Cedar was not about to let the beast, his curse, have any sway over his thoughts, his body, his desires. Mae, for this single moment, was his. He wouldn’t let anything take this moment away from him.
He lowered his head, heard her breath hitch in her chest, then tasted the sweet tea and honey of her exhale on his lips.
With more gentleness than he thought he could contain, he brushed his lips across hers, wanting more, so much more, and telling himself that this brief touch, this trembling knowledge between them, might be all they would ever share. All she was willing to give him.
The tiniest sound escaped her throat, and her lips softened, opened, welcoming him into her warmth.
Cedar shifted his attention to her mouth and slid his tongue to stroke slowly along hers. Fire licked his belly, tightening him with need.
It had been years since he had kissed a woman. Years since he had touched a woman. Years since he had cared. So long, he had been sure he would never love again.
Mae’s hands dragged without hesitation along his ribs, then up his back, where she clutched the fabric of his shirt in her fists.
She gave herself to the kiss, to him. Her lips, her tongue, urged him to explore. And offered him pleasure in return.
Cedar gave to her willingly.
He would give her so much more. Anything she asked for.
But soon, far too soon, Mae placed one hand on his chest and pressed there. He knew he had to let her go. Had to break this kiss.
Their only kiss.
With one last lingering touch, Cedar reluctantly drew his mouth away from hers.
She was on tiptoe, one hand still tucked up behind his back, the blanket around her held in place only by his arm across her back. There was no light in the hall. But Cedar didn’t need light. He would know her, see her even if he were a blind man.
“I think,” she breathed, her hand on his back still holding strong as if she wished she would never have to let go, even as her palm on his chest pushed him away. “We need time. Some. Time. When my mind is clear. When I’m myself again. After the sisters’ call is gone. Then.”