But she also looked vulnerable beneath the haze of her own desire, and that was enough for me to beat back the ravenous hunger I had for her. For now. I was going to have to marry the girl, and soon, before I would allow myself a taste of what she had to offer.
Because even though Violet would laugh at me for saying it, I was still respectful enough to want to do things in the proper fashion. I wanted us married, and I wanted our wedding night. It was what we both deserved.
Still, it didn’t stop me from pressing myself down onto her, pinning her hips with my own. I savored the look on her face at the small press of pleasure, and took advantage of her parted lips. It was a kiss of wildfire, spreading a slick and insistent heat that threatened to consume both of us. Violet trembled under my hands as I kissed her, my tongue teasing her own.
She gave an insistent moan, her tongue rising to the challenge, and I growled approvingly in my throat, pulling her tighter against me. I was not gentle, but neither was she, as our two tongues battled each other. Violet tried to roll her hips against mine in an ancient rhythm that was timeless, and I felt sweat forming on my brow at her insistent little cries.
I was pushing her too far too quickly. With the exception of her fiery, passionate kiss in my cabin months ago, I had never felt so close to giving in to my desires for her. My fingers pressed deep into the soft curve of her rear, and she moaned in response, shredding my already fraying self-control.
With another frustrated growl, I pulled my head away from her and rolled off of her, not stopping until my back was against the wall, hoping the distance would help me regain control and focus.
I watched her warily, sucking in deep breaths of air. Her gaze was unfocused as she stared up at the ceiling, as if she didn’t trust her own ability to move to a seated position. Her breathing was coming in fast pants, just like mine.
After several long moments, she turned her head toward me and gave a laugh. “We should fight more often,” she suggested wryly.
I pushed a hand through my hair, still struggling with my own control. “Later,” I announced, giving her a small smile. “After we decide what to do about this situation.”
She nodded, her mouth returning to a flat line. She smoothed her hands over her clothes and then sat up, turning to face me. “Right,” she murmured.
“So…” I drew a deep breath and swallowed. “Talk with Desmond about her plan?”
“Right. Probably better to do it in the morning,” she said.
I nodded. “Right,” I drawled, and she narrowed her eyes at me.
“Sorry. A little distracted. I think… I’m going to take a walk,” she announced, rising to her feet.
I gave her a cocky smile. “Afraid to be alone with me?”
“No. Just, uh, cautious,” she retorted, her hand on the door.
I smiled, inordinately happy that we had made up. “Oh yeah? Prove it,” I said, knowing I was potentially starting up the flame again. She froze, her back to me and then twisted round.
“Arrogant Patrian,” she spat.
“Impetuous Matrian,” I replied.
She came back in and folded over at the waist to press a swift and—thankfully—chaste kiss to my lips. “I’ll be back in a little while,” she said.
“And I’ll be waiting,” I replied huskily, watching her disappear into the hall.
30
Violet
Two weeks later
I was becoming more and more frustrated with Desmond, and was beginning to think that she was purposefully pushing us aside. I had requested to have a meeting with her twelve days ago, and since then, it had been scheduled, rescheduled, and then pushed back six times.
I had taken the first two cancellations at face value—one time there was an op that ran into a problem during a mission, and Desmond needed to be there to problem solve. The second time, there was a food shortage due to a waylaid shipment that required her undivided attention.
But when they had started to stack up, I sat down with Viggo and suggested that we were being pushed back intentionally. Viggo had urged patience, and I had agreed, but now, with this latest cancellation, I was angry.
I threw open the door to our room and slammed it shut behind me. Viggo, who was lying on the floor looking at some files glanced up at me, his brows rising.
“Desmond?” he asked archly and I let out a breath of air, nodding tightly.
Viggo leaned forward. “What do you want to do?” he asked.
“Tie her up and force her to listen to us?” I deadpanned.
“Aggressive problem solving,” he said. “I like it.”
I groaned and tossed myself into our nest behind him. “I just don’t get it! She can’t know what we want to talk about, so why is she putting us off?”