Page 47 of Tempting the Scoundrel
Or, perhaps, she wished to be caught.
With a strong lunge, Thorne grasped Alex around the waist and hauled her against him. Her chest was heaving, hair plastered to her cheeks. A siren caught in a fisherman’s net. He had a wild urge to kiss her and tamped down the urge. He was no fisherman, and she was no fey creature at his mercy. She was human and he cared for her.
And she was upset.
Thorne released her and drew back in the water, placing distance between their bodies.Tell me, he wanted to say.Give me your burden, if that’s the issue. Let me share it.
Before he could question her, she spoke. “You won,” she said.
Thorne’s eyes roved over her face. Never had he desired anyone this much, wanting to understand her every thought and every emotion. He wanted her like an open book, bare pages and stark words written in black ink. He was a fucking hypocrite. “Yes, I won. But that’s not why you’re upset.”
She ignored his remark. “What now?” she whispered. She lifted her chin, almost challenging him. “Am I to be your prize?”
Was this a test? Her tone had taken on some strange emotion that he couldn’t place: anger, yes, but something else. Was she upset with him? What had he done to draw her ire?
Thorne reached for her. He couldn’t help it anymore; touching Alex was like an instinct. It was necessary. Her breath caught as his thumb slid across her cheek and stroked the water from her skin. No, she was not unmoved by him. Not angryathim, but at something else, and he wondered at the cause.
“I’ve never given the impression you were something to win, have I?” he murmured. “That’s not how we got here.”
“Then how did we?”
He brushed her lip with the pad of his thumb now. “You taught me how to catch you.”
“I did, didn’t I?” Her words were a low whisper, and when her tongue darted out to lick his finger, Thorne bit back a groan. “Are you to take no reward?”
Thorne lowered his hand. “Tell me why you’re upset.”
Alex’s laugh was dry as she looked away. “I was asking you to kiss me, Nick.” She turned and swam to shallower water, where she began her walk to shore.
“Alex.” Nick went after her, grasping her hand. “Wait.”
Her eyes met his, but she made no move to draw away. “Are we friends or more? Tell me now before I speak further.”
This question ought to have brought Thorne relief. It was the culmination of weeks of deceit and uncertainty. Weeks of quiet moments where he thought of Whelan’s lads and wondered how they fared in his absence. Whether the protection money he had provided before his departure would be enough or if Whelan demanded more, knowing they couldn’t pay up. He thought of O’Sullivan, hidden away in that filthy flat in the rookeries, spending his nights boxing for coin.
These were the thoughts that occupied his quiet moments, when his longing for this woman threatened to outweigh his judgement. When he found himself thinking,if onlyhe were some former schoolmaster who had inherited a barony quite by accident.If onlythe estate that bordered Roseburn were his in truth.If onlythese were not lies.If only, if only.
But these were lies—and the lives of his friends depended upon his response.
Bastard, he thought to himself as he leaned forward and captured her lips with his.Fool.Her soft moan nearly had him forget his litany, for when he did not think of money and old enemies, he’d spend hours imagining what it would be like to kiss her. He’d thought of the texture of her lips, the sounds she’d make—but he did not expect this response: she came against him with a rough noise and scraped her fingers through his hair. For she was not demure, this woman. She was as wild as the seas his ma spoke of in Ireland. She kissed like the onslaught of a storm.
She broke off, her breath hard against his lips. “More?”
He knew she was not only asking if he wanted more of her lips, but an answer to her question.Are we friends or more?
And he knew that one day she’d hate him for this response: “More.”
Then he was kissing her again. She gave a soft gasp when his tongue touched hers, but Alex—bless her—was a quick learner. She pressed herself closer, those clever hands of hers sliding up his arms, coming to rest at his back.
God, aye. Just like that.Her fingernails gripped his shirt and tugged. He felt the scratch of them through the wool of his bathing costume. Christ, how he wanted her. Roughly—there in the water. On the banks of the lake. Here under blue skies that were still so foreign to him after a life in a haze of coal smoke. He wanted to bury his face between her legs and lick her cunny until he tasted her release. He wanted to be inside her, buried as deep as he could go.
Maybe then he’d be able to forget how he really got here: not because he won, but because he cheated.
Thorne froze.Bastard, his mind whispered again.Cheat. Liar. Villain.
“Nick?” Alexandra’s beautiful eyes opened. “What’s wrong?”
It took everything in him to release her, to step back. He sank further into the cold water, just the bite of reality he needed. “You’re distracting me,” he said, forcing out a laugh as if he were amused by her. “Will you tell me now why you were angry before?”
