His eyes widened and she knew a moment of intense satisfaction that she’d shocked him, then the look of concern vanished and something hungry and hot leapt in his gaze.
He lifted his own hand, his fingers closing around her wrist, gripping her firmly. She hadn’t forgotten how hot his skin was, not one single iota, and if she’d had any breath left in her lungs, it would have burned away in that instant.
He left her hand where it was, resting on his cheek, but his hold was firm. She didn’t know if that meant he wanted her to touch him or not. She still couldn’t believe she actually was, but there was no backing away and she knew it.
She’d touched him. She’d crossed a line. And while she still felt vulnerable about wanting him, and afraid about what it would mean for her to go on touching him, she also didn’t want to let that fear stop her. She didn’t want to keep on being afraid.
He’d done something for her. He’d handed his own father-in-law to the authorities, had tried to find Athena for her. He’d been concerned for her feelings and she wanted to acknowledge that. Let him know that it meant something to her.
Yet at the feel of his burned skin beneath her fingertips, she was consumed by a sudden curiosity, intrigued by how some parts were shiny and smooth, while others were rough. All parts were hot, though, burning her fingertips, making the ache inside her get more intense. Making her breasts feel heavy and her sex throb.
This is desire.
She was breathing very fast, and she knew that maybe she’d made a mistake, that this was a bad idea, yet she couldn’t stop, her fingers trailing down his twisted cheek to his hard, scarred mouth. It felt soft beneath her fingertips, so soft. The only thing about him that had any give.
‘What are you doing, little maid?’ His harsh, rasping voice had become even harsher, guttural almost.
She could barely speak. Her heartbeat was so loud she could barely hear him either, but she kept her fingertips on the softness of his mouth, tracing his lower lip. ‘I just... Thank you for trying to help. That means a lot to me.’
His grip on her tightened, just shy of painful, yet he didn’t pull her hand away. ‘You do not owe me anything. I’ve told you that before.’
Rose swallowed. ‘I know. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just... I can’t stop thinking about this. About you...’ She dragged her gaze from her fingers and looked up his face. ‘Will you show me?’
His fingers closed around her wrist in a convulsive movement, his grip now painful. But she didn’t want to show any weakness, so she bit down on the pain. She’d told him she wasn’t a doormat, and so she wouldn’t be one.
His gaze was now all silver, tarnished and glittering in the firelight, and she could feel that thing crackling between them, that tension, glorious and electric.
Desire.
It didn’t feel like a weakness now, not when she could see it burning so clearly in his eyes. He felt it too, didn’t he?
‘You need to be more specific,’ he said, raw and guttural. ‘I have not been with a woman in years, and I would...hate for there to be any misunderstandings.’
Shock echoed through her. She hadn’t wondered about his love life, not once.
But he’d been married before and even with those burns he was phenomenally attractive. Mesmerising, his presence a force of nature. She couldn’t imagine him alone.
‘Years?’ she asked.
‘Not since my wife died.’ The words were bitten out, his big body full of tension, as if he was struggling with something. ‘But you, little maid...You—’ He broke off, but she didn’t need him to elaborate. She already knew.
For years he hadn’t been with anyone else, yet now he wanted her.
Her, the abducted girl no one had looked for and the servant no one thought about; she was wanted by this man. The god of war.
She wanted to ask him about his wife and how long he’d waited and why, and why her? Why now? But the heady rush of power that filled her couldn’t be denied, and it felt different to the power she’d thought she’d had on that terrace in Thailand. Then it had only been an abstract concept, about her femininity, her body. Now, though, it was abouther.
Shewas the one he wanted. Not just any woman, but her.
It mattered, she didn’t know why, but it did, and that made her brave. Even braver than she’d thought she’d be.
Rose cupped his scarred cheek, ran her thumb along his lower lip. Then she went up on her toes and pressed her mouth to his.
He didn’t wait, not one second. He pulled on her wrist, tugging her right up against him, and with his other hand resting firmly at the small of her back he held her there. And then he devoured her like a lion with his kill. Open, hot, hungry. His tongue was in her mouth, and she knew a moment’s fear that she’d be swept away, caught in a riptide that was far too strong for her. But she only had two options now: either she pushed him away, or she surrendered.
She’d never thought she’d give up all control again, but there was no fighting this. And more, she didn’t want to. She wasn’t afraid any more. She wanted to go with the tide wherever it took her.
So, she curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt and kissed him back.