The Viper (Highland Guard #4)(42)

Her endless idealism where Bruce was concerned only fueled his suspicions. “And that’s the only reason?”

Her eyes narrowed. “What other reason could there be?”

He didn’t say anything, but merely held her gaze.

Suddenly, shock transformed her features. Her eyes widened and her lips parted with a harsh gasp.

If he was in his right mind, he would have understood the flicker of pain in her eyes, would have realized that his accusation had hurt her. That he’d hit a nerve and found another vulnerability beneath the proud mask. And if he could think about anything other than crushing her mouth to his, he would have seen that he was wrong. That once again jealousy had made him act like an arse.

But he wasn’t in his right mind. He was consumed by feelings he didn’t understand. Anger, jealousy, lust, and something he rejected with every fiber of his being.

All he could think about was pulling her against him, covering her mouth with his, and kissing her until she stopped making him feel this way. Until she denied the unspoken accusations. But one look in her eye told him she wasn’t going to do that.

If he’d stabbed her with a knife, the wound would have been no less painful. Bella couldn’t believe it. Were all men the same? He was no better than her husband, jealous and suspicious, believing that large br**sts and a wide mouth left her without honor.

Lachlan thought she was doing all this because she was carrying on some illicit liaison with Robert. How could he think such a thing? How could he believe the rumors?

He didn’t know her at all. She couldn’t believe she’d let herself be deceived into thinking he was different, that he might actually care for her, if only for a moment.

If he thought her a whore, she would not disabuse him of the idea. She lifted her chin defiantly and met his angry gaze with a gleam of pure wickedness. She tossed her shoulders back and stuck out her chest to better vantage.

He made a sharp sound and his face went white.

A deep feminine instinct rose inside her. She slid her tongue across her bottom lip, as if she were a hungry spider waiting to trap her next meal. Her eyes slitted and her voice deepened seductively. “What do you think?”

She realized her mistake right away. Or maybe she’d known what would happen all along and wanted it to happen. She wanted to have even more of a reason to hate him. Lachlan MacRuairi was not a man to provoke.

He pulled her into his arms. Pulled her against the powerful chest that she’d noticed far more times than was proper.

She gasped as her body came into contact with his. He was so hard. His chest was like a wall of granite. It should be uncomfortable—intimidating—but it wasn’t. The visceral awareness of his strength made her feel safe and protected.

As he lowered his head, her heart seemed to stop, pausing in that terrifying, agonizing moment that she’d both dreaded and craved. Finally, he covered her mouth with his.

She felt his groan all the way to her toes. The primitive, masculine sound poured through her veins like molten lava.

The first taste of him was like a shock. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Sensation exploded inside her. His lips were so soft and warm, his taste sublime. Like a dark, rich wine mulled with cloves.

She felt infused with it. Infused with him. As if one touch—one taste—could mark her forever.

His mouth moved over hers deftly, passionately, demanding a response.

She should push him away. This was wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Usually she didn’t feel anything. Except this time she did. She felt her body flush, her pulse race, and her senses fire with unfamiliar yearnings.

Bella didn’t understand what was happening to her. She felt so warm, her body so heavy. And there was an insistent knot coiling low in her belly.

She waited for her body to stiffen. For the vague feeling of revulsion to come over her as his mouth accosted hers.

But it didn’t happen. For a brigand who took what he wanted, there was nothing forceful about Lachlan’s kiss. His passion was warm and enticing, not cold and cruel. It was not an assault or mauling but a dark seduction.

Lachlan made her want to wind her arms around his neck and pull her body closer. To melt against him. To mold her soft curves to every hard inch of him.

Lachlan made her want to yield. To open her mouth and give freely of what her husband had tried to take.

Lachlan made her … want.

God help her, she wanted him. Desperately. Like she’d never wanted anyone before. She’d thought herself incapable of desire. Every bit as cold to passion as her husband accused. But she felt it now. Felt it awaken in a tingling rush of heat and pleasure.

She sank against him, savoring the wicked sensation of her br**sts crushing against his chest. And then with a sigh, she opened her mouth.

Lachlan let out a growl of satisfaction when he felt her yield. He’d wanted to punish her for making him lose control. For giving in to the lust that he’d sworn to avoid. He was mad. Angry. Pushed to the edge. But his anger dissolved the moment he touched his lips to hers. A wave of something soft and powerful crashed over him. Tenderness, damn it. He could never hurt her. He’d told her he would never use force, and he meant it.

God, she was sweet. Sweeter even than he’d imagined. He couldn’t have pulled away if he wanted to.

He half—more than half—expected her to push him away. But her tentative, innocent response nearly undid him.