Page 39 of Modern Romance Collection March 2025 (1-4)

If words can have this kind of effect, what couldhehave?It was one of those errant, terrible thoughts she couldn’t allow herself to give in to, but their frequency and potency just seemed to grow. Day by day. Second by second.

She could hear him take the steps behind her, but it was the fact she couldfeelhim, some force he exuded. Closer and closer, until she knew without even looking that he was right behind her.

“Do you believe that?” he asked, his voice a low rumble far too close to her ear.

The strong thing to do would be to turn and face him. To tell him that his feelings were immaterial, and he could not keep pressing this point. This…whateverbetween them. The not strong but maybe smart thing would be to run. All the way up the stairs, into her room, and lock the door.

On herself.

Instead, she answered the question she shouldn’t, eyes closed, voice little more than a whisper. “Yes.” She wished she didn’t believe it. Wished she could believe he was a user manipulating her.

But she had seen the way he watched her. She hadfelthim kiss and touch her. She wouldn’t put it past him to use it against her, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want her at all.

“And you want me,” he said, his finger grazing the line of her neck. It sent a wash of sparks through her. A shudder she couldn’t suppress. “Whether you like it or not.”

He was not asking her a question. It was a clear statement, and still he said nothing else, touched her nowhere else, like he was waiting for an answer to a question he hadn’t asked.

She could lie to him. It would be so easy. Meet his gaze. Saynoand walk away. She had the strength, somewhere deep down, she knew she had the strength.

But the other night had showed her that he was hardly going to act on that desire if she said she didn’t want him to. Which meant, to find somereleasefrom all of this, she was going to have to admit to him, out loud, that she wanted it.

And, by God, she wanted it. When was the last time she’d gotten what she wanted? When was the last time she’d had the opportunity to think of nothing but her own wants, needs, desires without repercussions?

Because what could be the repercussion here? He rejected her at some point in the future—when she didn’t want him toaccepther, so that hardly mattered? Nothing could take away one night. She could have this one night and know…

“Yes,” she whispered in spite of herself.

But he did not touch her again. Did not turn her to face him. Did not do any of the things she hoped he might so it could feel like he’d…lured her into this, tricked her.

“Then why hold back?”

She finally steeled herself to turn to face him. Tipped her head back to meet his gaze. “I hear tell devils are charming enough, but then you eat the apple and all hell breaks loose.”

His mouth curved, all dark, dangerous intent. Thrilling and perfect. “Hell is not always so bad.”

It was unfair. Resisting him was too hard, and hadn’t she had enough hard? Wasn’t life hard enough without fighting so damn much? Marrying him had been an easier way out than scraping by…why not take this easier out as well?

His gaze moved over her face, like he was drinking her in, and it was a heady thing, to see his desire stamped all overhisface. To know he wanted her, surely as much as she wanted him if he was doing this, pushing this.

But he still didn’t touch her. “You will have to admit to me that this is what you want. You will have to say it, show it. So that when tomorrow comes, even if you still lie to yourself, you will not be able to lie to me.”

“What does it matter?” she asked, a little desperately. Because it shouldn’t, if this was nothing.

But his eyes were a blaze. A sun to get lost in and blinded by. “It matters.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Hereyeswerethe sea, a tantalizing blue that would drown a man who wasn’t careful.

Athan wanted to drown. He wanted to glut himself in her, and only this line he’d drawn in the sand helped him hold on to his tenuous grasp of control. His body ached for it, throbbed with built-up desire. He could hear his own heart in his ears, beating wildly, even as he kept himself still and in control on the outside.

She might want him, this, but the woman had ironclad control. He would not be at all shocked to watch her walk away. Or to be forced to walk away himself.

Again.

Painful, impossible, and yet he kept putting himself in that same position. Like he wanted to punish himself, over and over again. “You must be sure.”

“I’m not sure of anything,” she said, and he thought perhaps it was the most truthful she’d ever been with him, which somehow felt like a gift. One to be careful with.

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