A Kiss of Fire (A Kiss of Magic #2)(46)

“That is what I thought,” he said, sounding dejected and more than a little sad. He then stood up away from her, his hungry eyes on her the entire time. “I told myself I would wait for you to come to me.”

Then he turned and left her there—left her there!—and, with a bang on the door to get the guard to unlock it, he walked out of the room.

Ariana lay there panting for breath for a long minute, her shock that he had left her completely paralyzing. Then she grabbed for the cover on the bed, drawing the furs over her naked skin.

What in both hells had just happened? Why had he left? She would have given him what he wanted. He had made his point. The point being that despite all her railing otherwise, she wanted him. Despite who he was and who she was, she wanted him. She wanted him on such a visceral level it was absolutely stunning.

He had left because she had not come to him? Because he had…he had had to force the understanding on her, she realized. He had pressed and pushed and overwhelmed her until she couldn’t think straight. She still wasn't thinking straight. How could she be? She should be grateful he had stopped her from making a grave and terrible mistake. She should be thanking the One God for this reprieve.

Only…she didn’t feel relieved. She felt deprived. She felt lost. Why? Why could she not accept her lucky escape?

Why had he not simply taken her and let them both deal with the aftermath later? He had had perfect opportunity to prove his point. To prove to her how much she craved and needed him. To prove to her that there was a desire between them that was burning out of control. That promised intense and incredible pleasure. She would have given…why had he not taken?

She needed to get out of there. She needed to get free and get back to her home where it was safe and easy and comfortable. She didn’t want to be near this man who coaxed and coerced and had her thinking and acting in ways she never would have done only a few short weeks ago. She wanted to run away. From him. From his world. From everything that tempted her.

And yet, if she were being honest with herself, there was an equally powerful part of her that wanted to hunt him down, to throw herself onto him and cry, “I’m here! I’ve come to you! Take me!”

It was those dangerous thoughts that frightened her.





Chapter Thirteen


Sin was sitting in front of the fire…again…with a glass of liquor…again…staring at nothing but the churning of his own thoughts…again.

He couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he envisioned her lying naked on a fur-covered bed. He could hear the way her breath caught…heard the soft little moan she had made as he had lain beneath him. He could feel her desperate hands in his hair as she held him to her breast.

He could taste the sweet flavor of her skin still. Even the scorching swallows of the hard liquor hadn’t burned her flavor away. He was hard for her, just as he had been from the moment his lips had touched hers for the first time. Hells, he’d probably been hard for her ever since their kiss on the ice. He couldn’t recall a time, it seemed, when he wasn't hard for her.

“Fuck,” he swore fiercely. Why had he left her? He could have had her. She had been willing and wanton, he could have taken her and she would have loved every minute of it.

Until she came down from the high of it all and realized just who it was she had given herself to. Then she would have hated him even more than she already did…if such a thing were possible. And she probably hated him for leaving her like that.

He was fucked either way.

He tossed back another swallow of his drink, enjoying the punishing burn of it. He deserved punishment. For every moment he lost control with her. For every time he had to force her to acknowledge what was between them. He had made such progress with her today…and then he had thrown it all away because he simply could not control himself around her.

He needed to figure out how to spend time with her without the risk of letting his libido take reign over him. But he knew it was an impossible task. Not between the two of them.

He sat forward in his chair a little.

What he needed was a chaperone. Someone who would allow them to spend time together, yet keep him in check. Keep him from losing what little control he had. It couldn’t be Mariah. It was too easy for him to dismiss her from his presence and she was too afraid of him to say anything contrary to his desires. He needed someone who wasn’t afraid of him. Someone he could trust. Someone who was worthy of Ariana’s time and friendship.

The answer came to him suddenly and clearly. So clearly he wondered that he hadn’t thought of it before. He surged out of his chair, dropping his glass on a nearby tabletop as he passed by it.




The next morning Ariana was not finished with her morning toilette yet when he came to her. Anxiety and excitement, mixed in a wash together, swirled into her stomach. She shooed Mariah away, dismissing her from the room as she stood and faced him. He looked dark and forbidding, shut away from her. She didn’t know why, but she found herself missing the open congenial man of yesterday.

“Are you ready for the day?” he asked.

She was dressed and her hair was done, so that was good enough in her opinion. She snatched up a sash from the back of her chair and tied it about her waist. His dark eyes followed every movement she made. She could see a tic in his jaw giving away the fact that he was clenching his teeth. In an odd sort of way, it gave her comfort to see this sign of tightly leashed control. But was it because it meant he was reining in his impulses…or because it was a sign the impulses were still there and still as strong as ever?