A Study In Seduction(66)

“Don’t.”

“But—”

“You look…” His throat worked as he swallowed. “The fire behind you… like you’re filled with light.”

Light. No.

Once perhaps, many years ago, when she’d clambered over the pebbled beaches at Brighton. When her mother was whole and well and laughed with Lydia’s father as the salty wind nipped their faces and the sea swept up to meet them. Then Lydia was whole too. Then she was filled with a light bright enough to illuminate the blackest of caves.

“The fire. I… I was getting cold.” Her voice sounded unnatural, hoarse. She forced a smile, reaching a trembling hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. Gooseflesh skittered over her skin.

Alexander closed the door, his boots soundless as he crossed the room to her. With every step that brought him closer, Lydia drew back into herself, her hands moving to rub her bare arms.

She expected him to grasp her shoulders, to pull her to him, but instead he stopped several inches from her and looked at her, his hot gaze settling on the generous swells of her breasts above her corset before moving back to her face.

Lydia shifted, her corset chafing against her torso, the place between her legs warming with Alexander’s proximity. She watched him warily, questioning for the hundredth time the wisdom of her boldness.

“You make it impossible for me to withstand you,” he said.

“That was my intention.” A faint smile pulled at her lips. “And you did once say you thought I should be reckless more often.”

“It appears I was correct.”

Despite her admission, nerves continued to spiral through her. She stepped back toward the fire, the heat burning through her chemise and drawers. “Alexander, I…”

She looked at the buttons of his shirt, unable to meet his gaze. How could she ever tell him? How could she confess to the utter sordidness of her past and the horrific price she’d had to pay?

Perhaps she didn’t have to. It was her past, fixed in her soul like a fossil—but there was no need for Alexander to know the full truth. She would never agree to marry him. Perhaps they would be lovers for a time, but their relationship would not extend beyond that. She owed him nothing except the loyalty due any lover.

At least this time, she knew the terms.

“I’ve done this before.” Her murmur was almost inaudible, even to her own ears.

“I know.”

Lydia jerked her gaze to his. “You do?”

He nodded, his features expressionless as he continued to watch her.

“H-how do you know?”

“No woman responds so swiftly to a man’s touch, to passion, without having experienced it before.”

A sting of tears blurred Lydia’s vision for an instant.

It’s not merely a man’s touch, she wanted to cry out. Not a nameless passion. It’s you. You, you, you.

Alexander stepped closer, catching her arms in his hands as he pulled her away from the fire. “Much as I wish to see you go up in flames, I’d rather it be in the metaphorical sense. And by my hand rather than an errant spark.”

Her skin grew hot. Alexander slipped his hand beneath her chin and drew her head up. He frowned, brushing a stray tear from her cheek.

“I’m really not so horrible.”

“I never thought you were. Quite the opposite, in fact.” Lydia managed a smile as she brought her hand up to his coarse-whiskered jaw. She moved her thumb across his mouth, tracing its shape, feeling the slightly dry ridges of his lips. His breath on her fingers.

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

His eyes darkened. Sliding a hand around the back of her neck, he pulled her to him, his mouth hovering over hers for a breathless instant before he closed the distance. Lydia shut her eyes and sank into the feel of him, parting her lips as he swept her mouth with his tongue.

Flowers of heat bloomed deep inside her, dispelling the last threads of cold. She could never be cold in Alexander’s arms. She would never feel a bitter chill, not even from the depths of her own soul—not while wrapped in his all-encompassing warmth.

He angled her head, his tongue sliding across hers, his teeth gently biting down on her lower lip. Lust sparked and caught. She spread her hands over his shirt, feeling the hard ridges of his chest through the linen, his heart pounding against her palm.

He stroked his hands down her back to her buttocks, cupping them and lifting her against him. The bulge in his trousers pushed against her thigh, eliciting a renewed firestorm of arousal. Lydia squirmed, her breath coming faster and faster as she slid her lips across his cheek to his ear. She moaned. Alexander muttered something into her hair, his fingers kneading and parting her bottom so that she was splayed against his hard thigh.