Those words hit him like a blow to the chest. That was her first kiss? Bloody hell, what would her second kiss be like? Her third? Damn, he had the distinct urge to pull her against him and find out. “My apologies for keeping you awake and for kissing you. I did not intend to steal anything. I—” He reached for her but she jerked away.
“Kindly do not touch me, Your Grace. Letting you do so is a mistake I will not make again.”
He lowered his hand, his insides twisting in regret. “You don’t think it will be a nice memory for both of us? That kiss we shared?” It would be for him. But then again, he wasn’t worth much as far as he could tell.
Her nose lifted higher into the air. “When my real Prince Charming arrives, you will be the devil he helps me overcome. He’ll be honorable and kind and surely teach me how it feels to be kissed by a man who truly values me.”
He pulled back his chin, digging his fingers into his thigh. Her words hurt more than he cared to admit, not that he didn’t deserve them. But she deserved to know the truth.
A surge of victory sang in her veins. Not every woman got the opportunity to tell the man who’d wronged her what a devil he was. She shot him another glare, sure that he’d be crestfallen from such a good put down.
Instead, he leaned casually against the frame of the door. She’d already noted that his jacket and cravat had been removed, and his shirt was undone at the neck, revealing a good bit of muscle and dark hair. The sort, she could confess, she’d like to run her fingers through. She curled her offending digits into her housecoat. She’d not touch this man ever again.
“That’s the thing that can be difficult to explain,” he said, his voice dropping lower in pitch so that his deep baritone absolutely vibrated through her. “Somehow the stolen kisses, the ones you shouldn’t have, are that much sweeter.” Then he pushed off the frame of the door and took a step closer. He didn’t touch her but he stood within an inch of her much smaller frame. His heat seeped through her clothes and she remembered the hard press of his body. She’d wager, not that she ever did, that he’d feel even better with less clothing between them.
“If you come any closer to me, I’ll scream.” Her breath hitched but it wasn’t because she was afraid. She likely should be. She was alone with a man who could ruin her or worse but somehow, she didn’t believe he’d actually hurt her. Instead, her pulse raced with excitement. Deep inside, she knew his words were the truth. He wasn’t quite her Prince Charming the way she’d first thought. There was something darker and a bit more dangerous behind his handsome charm and frankly, that bit of devil inside him was…exciting.
“There’s no need for screaming. I promise you I’ll never hurt you. Our kiss, though I am to blame, was given willingly from both parties.” He licked his lips. Not overtly, more like a nervous gesture someone did when thinking. It still made her insides pulse with desire. “All I want to say is that if you ever desire another secret kiss, one that steals your breath and curls your toes. then you find me. I’ll give you as much or as little as you wish, but give it to you I shall.”
She hadn’t realized she’d been backing up until she hit the wall behind her. Casually, he raised a hand and placed it on the plaster next to her head. Then he leaned toward her. She didn’t want him to kiss her again, she told herself. She was in search of a prince or a knight in shining armor who lifted her up out of her ordinary life and swept her into her own fairy tale of adventure and romance that settled into a binding union. One where they married and had a family but also loved each other fiercely and, in that love, had their own secret adventure. This man was no knight, she’d already learned that. The problem was, he was making her insides molten fire, burning with desire. Her chest rose and fell as he leaned close enough to nearly kiss her. “Do not touch me,” she managed to say through ragged breaths.
He frowned, one corner of his mouth drawing down. “Ophelia, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.” He pulled back a bit. “I’m simply telling you that you can trust me to obey any limits that you set forth. I liked your kiss more than I ever imagined and I’d very much like to kiss you again.” His jaw tightened a muscle twitching in his cheek. “I’m not the man to give you more but I wish—"
She lifted her eyebrows. If she were honest, she found his predatory stance rather intoxicating but that was because it was dangerous. “Back up,” she said, drawing in a long breath to steady her nerves.
He did, instantly. The ache between her legs pulsed again. Even more intoxicating than his dominant behavior was his obedience. She tried to calm her racing pulse. This was no fairy tale. What throbbed between them now was real and sharp and full of peril.
“I wish I could be the man you wanted. Good and light. A hero to carry you away…”
Ophelia gasped. How did he know what kind of man she wanted? “I never said—”
“Of course you didn’t.” He reached across the gap between them, brushing back a single lock of her hair. It slipped through his fingers. “I still know that’s what you want just as I understand I’m not the man to give it to you. That man died a long time ago.” He grimaced. “I can only give you what you see now. It isn’t much, I know, but it’s yours if you want it.”
Her brows drew together as her hand settled over her thrumming heart. Did she? In this moment, it was so difficult to tell.
Chapter Five
Every muscle in Chase’s body coiled in an anticipation, ready to spring. The kiss in the library had been satisfying in ways he couldn’t describe. It had been a soothing balm to his wounded soul. But this moment was like pouring hot coals onto a burning fire. She looked up at him, her mouth softly parted, her wide brown eyes crinkled with indecision, her chest heaving. Part of him knew that if he pushed, she’d consent. Allow him to taste her sweet strawberry nectar again.
But another part didn’t want to. Yes, he desired her, more so than he had any woman for a long time. And certainly he’d meant his offer. But he also wished she didn’t take it. He’d remember her as the one pure thing he’d touched in so long. If he sullied that now, what would he be left with, really? No wonder he hated himself. He was baiting the one good thing he’d touched in a long time to turn bad.
“So you can only give me a few stolen, secret kisses? That’s it?” Her gaze had narrowed, her lips pressed into a firm line.
Good girl, he thought. He wanted to kiss her even more but he eased back a bit. “That’s right.”
“Bah,” she said, slicing her hand through the air. “Are you married?”
“No,” he returned, his fingers itching to touch her hair again. It had been so silky against the tips of his fingers.
“Deformed?” One eyebrow lifted as she stepped toward him.
He liked that comment less. “Of course not.” He clenched his fists again, fighting the urge to pull her close. To kiss her lips.
“Then you’re lying. You are capable of offering me far more.” She reached out and pushed him square in the chest. Not hard, but enough to express her irritation. But her hand stayed pressed against him with nothing but his shirt between them. “One might argue, you are honor-bound to do so unless you are physically unable.” Triumph shone in her eyes as she stopped moving forward and instead straightened her spine. “Men have married for far less than we’ve done tonight.”