Somewhere I'll Find You (Capital Theatre #1)(37)

“I belong to no one.” She managed to pull back, stumbling a little. “Please leave now,” she said desperately, heading to the protection of her bedroom.

“Wait.” Damon caught her just inside the door and turned her to face him. “Julia…” All the convincing speeches he had rehearsed were locked in his throat. He wanted to make her understand that he wasn't the kind of man he had seemed so far. How had his well-organized life suddenly become such a mess?

He reached for a lock of her unbound hair, a golden banner that lay over her shoulder and trailed down to her waist. He sifted it gently through his fingers. She waited without moving or making a sound, seeming possessed by the same sense of inevitability that gripped him. Incredible, that he had resented and denied her for most of his life…and she had turned out to be what he wanted most.

Damon slid his hand beneath the fall of her hair to the nape of her neck, his fingers and thumb curving around the downy surface. He felt her muscles stiffen beneath his touch. A faint protest escaped her lips as he pulled her closer, degree by degree, until her body was caught against his.

“This isn't right,” she whispered.

“I don't care.” Nothing outside this room mattered to him…the life he had so carefully built for himself, the things he had fought against for years…he pushed them all to the back of his mind. He pressed a hand to the small of her back, molding her against him until she shivered and made an inarticulate sound.

He waited for her to move next. Gently her hands came up to his head, her fingers winding in his hair. He needed only the slightest urging of her touch, and his mouth came to hers. Pleasure swept through him, flooding his nerves and senses. She was delicious, the curves of her br**sts plumping delicately on the wall of his chest, her h*ps soft and neat as they fit against his. The smooth river of her hair flowed over his arms and hands, and he broke the kiss to clench a fistful of the shining locks and rub them against his cheek.

A sob escaped her, and she shivered against him. “I want to hate you,” she said in a muffled voice.

Damon stared into her face and drew his thumbs over the velvety edge of her jaw. “I'm no saint, Julia. I've lied to everyone, even myself, but it's no different from what you've done. You made the best life for yourself that you could. So did I.”

Julia felt tears spill from her eyes, the warm droplets immediately swept away by his thumb. It was a relief to be able to talk to him truthfully for the first time. “I didn't know you were trying to find me all these years.”

“Why didn't you tell me who you were, that weekend at the Brandons' estate?”

“I was trying to protect myself.”

“You liked having an advantage over me.”

“No,” she said instantly, though she felt a betraying rush of heat in her cheeks.

A grim smile touched his lips. “You never wanted to tell me the truth about who you really are, did you?” He read the answer in her deepening color. His hands moved down her body in a proprietary caress. “You won't dismiss me that easily, Julia.”

She tried to pull back, but she was held in place by his hand at the center of her back, the other closing around the nape of her neck. This time his kiss was blatantly sexual, his tongue searching the softness of her mouth. Julia couldn't help responding, a moan of pleasure rising in her throat until she turned her face away abruptly, pressing her cheek to his shoulder. She was fully aware, as he must be, of the disaster they were courting. “Nothing can come of this,” she said against the fabric of his coat. “I could never be the kind of woman you want. And you have responsibilities…”

“I've always had responsibilities,” he said, his voice vibrant with frustration. “I've approached every relationship with the understanding that it could never last, that I couldn't offer a woman my name or any permanent attachment. Now that I've found you, don't tell me you're not what I want.”

“What are you saying?” she asked with a miserable smile. “That you might not want an annulment? What could possibly come of a relationship between us? I'm not Julia Hargate any longer. I've turned myself into someone who is completely unsuitable for you.”

“That doesn't matter.”

“It will,” she insisted, trying to wedge her arms between them. “You would want me to give up everything I've worked for, everything I need to be happy. You're not the kind of man who could stand to see his wife on stage, being courted and kissed and held by other men, even if it is only acting.”

“Damn you,” he said softly, “I can't stand it now.” He crushed his mouth over hers, urgently seeking entrance, devouring and demanding until she had no breath, no will, no thought except the driving need to take him inside herself.

His fingers tugged roughly on the satin ribbons of her gown, until the muslin sagged over her shoulders, revealing the high, pale curve of one breast. He traced the round shape with his fingertips, leaving trails of fire that made her nipple ache. She arched closer, pushing her breast into his hand, gasping as his thumb toyed with the hard tip.

Julia was filled with recklessness. What if she let him make love to her? She owed nothing to anyone except herself. Surely by now she had earned the right to make her own choices, especially this one. She had always masqueraded in some role or another, as Julia Hargate, as Mrs. Wentworth, as a thousand different characters created on the page. But in this moment those identities had been stripped away, and she stood before him without pretense.