Page 119 of Pride: The Rogue
Lachlan slipped a possessive arm about her waist and crushed her body against his.
She emitted another shuddery gasp.
“Who?” he seethed.
Heat blazed between them. The light in Lachlan’s eyes shifted and darkened, and he gripped her tighter. “Who is he, sweetheart, the fine gentleman you’ll marry?”
“We…” Only, there wasn’t a ‘we’ yet. There wasn’t even a betrothed. “I…we…” She sought for some way to explain she wasso desperate that she didn’t actually have a bridegroom lined up, that she was so undesired and wanting, any willing men would be gathered for her to choose from.
“Yes, Livian?” he harshly prodded. “Tell me about you andyourfuturehusband.”
The already biting edge in his tone grew teeth.
“There’s nothing to say,” she murmured.
The glint in his eyes became grimmer, lethal. “You don’t want to tell me about him.”
She’d discovered in the short, but most intimate time she’d ever spent with anyone, Lachlan would never hurt her.
She shook her head. “No. I really don’t.”
“Good, Livian,” he whispered. “Because I find I don’t care to think about the bloody bastard now or ever.”
His mouth covered hers, and this kiss was the same possessive, overwhelming one of their parting. She opened for him, and Latimer swept inside to claim her as she ached to be claimed by him.
“What are you doing?” she moaned, even as she twined her arms about his nape and twisted her fingers in his hair.
“I think that should be clear, darlin’.”
His already hard member throbbed even harder against her.
“You’re to be married,” she whispered against his lips.
Hers was a reminder for herself as much as for him, and one he answered with his own charge.
“That didn’t stop you before when you were the only one to be married.”
“Yes, but this is…different,” she rasped, meeting each angry slash of his tongue against hers.
He growled his frustration.
“I don’t want to talk about my future wife or your futurehusband.”
No, neither did she—more specifically, she couldn’t let herself think about him and the duchess. and yet, how could she not? Soon Lachlan would marry and be joined with some other woman in name, body, and soul. She’d care for him. Bear his children.
Sorrow sucked her out of the aching bliss she’d thought to never again know with Lachlan.
He trailed a path of kisses down her throat. “You’re pulling back from me, darlin’.”
Lachlan sounded like the young boy who’d had his favorite dessert snatched away. If she could’ve smiled, she would have.
Drawing forth an inner strength she hadn’t even known she possessed, until now, she edged herself away from him.
“Don’t we have a problem, Lachlan?” Livian begged. She searched her gaze over each and every one of his beloved, hard, square features. “Isn’t it wrong we want to make love while sharing the same roof as our future spouses?”
He held her gaze. “Only if we let it be.”
Only, if we let it be.
