Midnight Angel (Stokehurst #1)(42)

He moved, dragging her slender body across his lap. She whimpered as their mouths slipped apart. Luke stared at her, struck by her beauty, the gleaming black tumble of hair, the ripe mouth, the slant of her brows. And her body, light, supple, elastic with youth. His hand left the taut line of her waist, sliding to the loose neckline of her peasant blouse. The garment came from her shoulder with a firm tug. She caught her breath sharply as his hand slid into her blouse to find the tender shape of her breast.

Anchoring her in his lap, he took her mouth again, a long kiss that soon broke into a myriad of shorter ones, luscious fragments of kisses, some hard, some soft and seeking. He fondled her breast, his warm fingers cupping the delicate weight. Gently his thumb passed over the tip until the nub of silk became exquisitely tight.

Tasia struggled to embrace him, twisting to push closer. Her hands slid to his hair, the thick locks that lured her fingers to sink deep and play and tangle. Every sensation of her life, the deepest pleasure and sharpest pain, dimmed in comparison to the satisfaction of being with him. He was so powerful, so gentle. He was everything she had ever dreamed of.

But it had all been ruined, before they ever met. She had ruined it.

Tasia jerked back with a gasp. His eyes opened. Before she could look away, he saw the flash of anguish. Tasia wanted to leave him then, run from words and questions and demands for explanations that couldn't be given. His arms turned to steel. He anchored her against his chest, not letting her move.

“This can't lead to anything,” she whispered.

His hand drifted over her long hair, gathering it in silken sheaves and letting it strain through his fingers. There was a brief rush in his lungs that sounded like laughter, but when he spoke, his voice was anything but amused. “If there had been a choice for either of us, we wouldn't have taken it this far. What makes you think anything can stop it now?”

She raised her face and glared at him miserably. “I can stop it by leaving. You want me to tell you everything, but I can't. I don't want you to know about me and the things I've done.”

His wide mouth twitched with impatience. “Why? Do you think I'll be shocked? I'm hardly an idealistic boy, or a hypocrite. Good Lord, do you actually think your sins could be worse than mine?”

“I know they are,” Tasia said bitterly. Whatever his sins were, she doubted that murder was among them.

“You're an arrogant little fool,” he muttered.

“Arrogant—”

“No one's feelings count but your own. No one is affected but you. Well, you're wrong. It's not just you anymore. I'm part of this now—and I'll be damned if I'll slink away just because you've decided I don't fit in with your plans.”

“You're the most arrogant person I've ever met in my life! An authority on matters you know nothing about!” Her temper, driven by the force of her Slavic blood, came rushing to the surface. She trembled with the urge to shout. Instead she spoke in a lethal undertone. “I don't care about your feelings. I don't want anything from you. Let me go! I will leave tomorrow. I can't stay after this. I'm not safe here anymore.”

Her bones gave slightly, molded by the force of his hold. “So you can go on hiding, running, staying invisible, never letting anyone care…Not much of a life, is it? More like a living death.”

Tasia flinched. “It's all I can have.”

“Is it? Or are you too much of a coward to try for something more?”

She writhed wildly. “I hate you,” she gasped.

Luke controlled her without effort. “I want you. Enough to fight for you. And if you run from me, I'll find you.” His lips parted in a savage smile. “By God, it feels good to want someone again. I wouldn't trade this for a fortune.”

“I won't tell you anything,” she said passionately. “I'll disappear, and in a month you'll forget all about me, and everything will be the same as before.”

“You won't desert Emma. You know what it would do to her. She needs you.” That was unfair of him, and they both knew it. “We both do,” he added gruffly.

Tasia was outraged. “I know why Emma needs me…but you…All you want is f-fornication!”

He averted his face then. A muffled sound escaped him. For a triumphant moment Tasia thought that she had shamed him, and then she realized he was laughing. Infuriated, she began to struggle. He positioned her against his body. She felt the flat of his silver hook against the small of her back. Low beneath his hips, a hard ridge jutted with burning intimacy. Her breath came fast, and she felt a peculiar throb of excitement in the place where he pressed. She held very still.

His smiling mouth brushed over her hot cheek. “I won't deny it. Fornication ranks high on the list. But it's not the only thing I want from you.”

“How dare you, when there is a woman waiting upstairs for you! Or have you already forgotten Lady Harcourt?”

“There are some things I have to resolve,” he admitted.

“Indeed.”

“Iris and I have no claim on each other. She's a good woman, with many qualities I respect and like. But there's no love on either side, and she would be the first to admit it.”

“She wants to marry you,” Tasia said accusingly.

He shrugged. “Well, friendship isn't a bad reason to marry. But it's not enough for me. Iris knows my opinion on the matter. I've made it clear on many occasions.”