Page 81 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
The mere thought of it unleashed a powerful hunger within him. He pulled in a breath. Then another. No matter how badly he wanted this—how badly he wanted her—he had to control his instincts.
Raw hunger coursed through his body. His passion for her transcended the physical. But he could not deny that his malebody longed for her with a fierce need that went beyond ordinary desire. One night would never be enough.
No, he wanted Belle tonight. And every night.
But was it too bloody soon?
Blast the meddling voice within him that urged restraint, that asked too many blasted questions at a moment like this. But still, he could not ignore the inner warnings that told him he should not move too quickly. He had to think of Belle—of the pace that was right for her.
He couldn’t allow his own need to run roughshod over what he knew was right.
Belle was a born romantic. He knew that. He always had. She wore her heart on her sleeve. She couldn’t hide it. Didn’t try, really. And in this moment, she was vulnerable.
She still had faith in him. And no matter the cost, he would not—could not—betray that trust. God knew he already had. He was damned if he would do anything to hurt her again.
He brushed a kiss over her brow, a feathery caress. He knew what he had to do. Anything else might well lead them down a path from which there would be no return.
Forcing himself to keep his rational thoughts in control, he eased back, putting distance between them. To his surprise, her forehead furrowed. A little worry line formed between her brows as she looked at him with a bit of confusion.
“Is something wrong?” she whispered. “Do you hear someone coming?”
“No,” he said truthfully. “But the very fact that we have to consider that tells me we’ve taken this as far as we should. For tonight, at least.”
“I suppose that is a rational consideration.” A slight frown played on her full mouth. “But at the moment, I truly do not care for rational considerations.” She glided her fingertips over theedge of his jaw, tracing a path along his throat to the vee of skin exposed at his collar.
“Is that so?” He pulled in a low breath, determined to rein in his hunger.
She toyed with the top button, releasing it. A tempting little grin played on her lips as her fingers went to the next fastening, working it free. “I’d much rather think about... this.” She grazed her fingers over the newly bared skin. “I like the way you feel, Jon. Very, very much.”
“Do you, now?” he said, hearing the husky strain in his own voice.
A hint of a smile curved her lovely, plump mouth, and she freed another button. Slipping her fingers beneath the linen of his shirt, she teased him with a butterfly touch. “I want to feel you, Jon.” A seductive heat warmed her gaze. “I want to make you wild for me.”
“Oh, love, you already do,” he said, his voice sounding like a growl to his own ears.
“I want to feel the texture of your hair beneath my fingers,” she murmured and pressed her lips softly to his. “Oh, Jon, I want to hear your voice grow rough with passion.”
God above, she was intent on driving him to the edge of madness. The words on her lips. Her delicious kiss. The satin of her touch. Each drove him further toward the brink of restraint.
The subtle smile on her face told him the minx knew exactly what she was doing. And she was loving every moment.
He caught her hands in his, stilling them. “You know I want you, Belle. I always have.”
Passion surged through him as his lips caressed her sweet mouth, releasing the restraint that had held him back. The sensuous touch left them both breathless, both hungry for more. Any doubt as to the depth of his hunger for her had fallen away.
A delicious smile curved her lips as she stared up at him. Her eyes filled with a dreamy expression that warmed his heart. Despite her temptingly bold words and her subtle touches, pure desire was still rather new to her.
Her voice was a throaty whisper. “I don’t want anyone else, Jon. Only you.”
Her words plowed into him. Framing her face in his hands, he drank in her loveliness for a long moment. And then, he kissed her again. And again.
But then, he stopped himself. “I need you, Arabelle. More than you could ever know.” He let out a breath. “But you deserve more than stolen moments.”
“And if I believe that what I truly need is you? Under any circumstances... no matter how scandalous?”
“We will have those moments.” He drew his thumb over her bottom lip, slightly puffy from his kiss. “But not now. Not here. You deserve more than a quick tumble in my study.”
She veiled her gaze with her lashes, seeming to ponder his words. “I agree,” she said, meeting his eyes. “This is not the time. And certainly not the place. I do understand you won’t press this moment to what you believe would be your benefit. You possess a sense of honor, Jon. I do love that about you.”
