The Renegade (The Moorehouse Legacy #3)(40)

Oh, she was lovely. She had changed into casual clothes, and her hair was loose around her shoulders, a thick curtain of copper red.

When she knelt down by the side of the bed, he propped himself up on his arms.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked.

“Did you know?” she whispered into the darkness.

“Know what?”

There was a long pause. “That I wanted you. When Reese was alive. Was that why you didn’t like me?”

Shocked, he studied her fine, delicate profile, lingering on her lips.

Good God…

“Did you?” he said roughly. “Did you want me?”

“I think so. I mean, there was that one moment. After you came out of the shower…”

Alex’s heart went into a flat-out sprint.

Cassandra wrapped her arms around herself. “I just want you to know something. Whatever you sensed about me, or picked up on…I didn’t realize it. I didn’t even know until very recently.” She looked at him. “I swear to you, I—”

“I never thought you were attracted to me.”

“Oh.” She stayed curled up tight, looking beyond him, at the wall.

“Cassandra, don’t worry. I know you loved him. You have nothing to feel badly about.”

Her shoulders eased a little. “Thank you. Thank you…for saying that. I took my wedding vows seriously and I never—I was always faithful to him.”

They were quiet for a long time, the muffled crackle from the fire in the stove the only sound between them. He found looking at her down-turned face an absolute privilege. But she really needed to go.

Tonight, for whatever reason, the shield and sword of his guilt had been put down. And he felt as if there was nothing to keep him from her.

“Cassandra, is there something else?”

“Yes.”

She moved so fast, she startled him. She lunged up and her lips found his, her hands diving into his hair, her tongue entering him in a slick rush.

Oh…She was so good.

He let her push him down onto the mattress as his mind spun.

She was going to take him. She had come to take him.

And…holy hell, he was going to let her. He was going to let her do anything she wanted to him.

Spike was right. Life was short, and warmth was fleeting, and the cold would last forever.

Just this once, he thought, giving up, giving in.

Only once. And then never again.

“Yes,” he said, answering the question she wasn’t asking, answering it for himself. “Yes…only tonight, but yes.”

She pulled back and swept off the fleece she was wearing. Her breasts were bare, and in the glow from the potbellied stove, the sight of her had his hips surging up from the bed. She rose to her feet and stripped out of her jeans, her eyes luminescent and powerful.

With a single movement she swept the covers from his body and her eyes raked down him from head to foot. She looked at all of him, his skin, his muscles, his bones, his scars.

His wild physical response to her.

Then she lay on top of him, her silken body covering him, her thigh sinking between his, her belly absorbing the thick length of his arousal.

I love you, he thought, rubbing himself against her, sinking into her and getting lost. She was all of his fantasies and more. Flesh and blood bringing what he had dreamed of to life.

“You’re so beautiful,” he groaned.

He bent up and captured her mouth, reveling in the sensation of their lips and tongues meeting. Her body shifted to the side and slid off his. He turned instinctually toward her, but her hand stopped him.

“I want to touch you,” she said, kissing his neck.

And she did. Everywhere. When she reached the place where he ached the most, the shock of the contact was enough to take him to the brink. He steadied her hand, stopping her from stroking him.

“I’m about to—That is, I don’t want to…not unless we’re—”

Oh, yeah. He was smooth. Real smooth.

Funny, with other women, he’d had no trouble spelling out what he wanted and what the limits were. With Cassandra, he felt like a fourteen-year-old boy. All pounding hormones and raw vulnerability.

Then it happened.

Her smile as she held on to his flesh was so sexual, so womanly, so beautiful, it didn’t matter she wasn’t moving her hand anymore. His body surged, his lower back and thighs grabbing tight. The release shot out of him.

As the pleasure hit, horror curdled his blood. And would have sucked the testosterone right out of him if he hadn’t lost it all a second and a half ago.

Damn it. He’d been a good lover once. Truly. At an earlier point in his life, he’d been rock-solid confident about his ability to pleasure a woman. But he couldn’t catch a break with her. First time he’d had to stop. This time…

Alex squeezed his eyes shut and crossed his arms over his face as she let go of him.

*

Cass wanted to laugh, and not with cruelty or out of awkward disappointment. The truth was, she was thrilled that Alex had lost control.

In all her life, she’d never been a seducer. Had never had the kind of confidence it took to ravish a man. But tonight, with Alex, she felt…different.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said gruffly. His voice was muffled beneath his forearms.