To kiss or not to kiss.
There would be no going back from a second kiss.
But, at this moment, with her body so close and the intent in her eyes so clear, he wasn’t sure why he would ever want to.
“Yes,” he growled as he caught the nape of her neck and pulled her toward him.
*
A frisson oftriumph sparked through Juliet.
But that wasn’t all she felt—or even mostly.
What she felt as her body swayed forward and her lips met his was a desire so strong it made her trembly in ways she’d never experienced or expected.
The press of his lips was firm and the taste of his mouth sweet and earthy from the whisky as, testingly, she darted her tongue inside.
His large hands spanned her waist, and for the first time in her life, she felt small. She’d always been tall—taller than all the boys as a girl and most men as a woman. She’d always liked the feeling, in truth. But here, with this man, she liked this small feeling, too.
The afternoon’s kiss had felt like pent-up release. But here, now, she went slower, took her time to savor him—his scent, his taste, his touch—though all the same urgency from earlier flowed through her, demanding she follow this path to surrender—hers…and his.
He groaned into her mouth and tugged her waist. Swaying forward, she stepped between his parted thighs, his massive hand on the curve of her lower back, snugging her tight against him. Her body became a molten version of itself against his unyielding solidity.
“Rory,” she spoke against his mouth.
His eyes slitted open, those turquoise depths opaque with desire.
“I need you,” she whispered.
It was the only way, she saw.
She would go mad from unrequited lust if she didn’t have him.
For to have him was the only way she could let go of him.
An upside-down logic, but it held fast.
But the next instant she saw she’d approached it all wrong, for he was—for the second time today—wrenching his mouth from hers and setting her physically away from him.
But this time, unlike earlier, she planted her feet and refused to cede ground.
His head tipped back so he could hold her gaze, he said, “That should’ve put your mind at ease as to your, erm, kissing abilities.”
“Perhaps, but…”
“But?”
“But not other, erm, parts of me.”
For a woman known for her words, she was having remarkable difficulty conveying them. But what were words tothis—desire…ache…craving…feeling…
Thiswas all that mattered.
Thiswas everything.
He gave his head a slow shake. “You mustn’t say such things out loud.”
“Who are you trying to convince? Me? Or…” Without precisely planning to, she reached for his cravat. “Yourself?”