Page 47 of The Trouble with Tigers
When she didn’t reply, his tone grew more urgent. “Did he"—He paused—“hurt you? Is that why you ran? Kitty, so help me, tell me.”
“He attacked me,” she whispered. “But I got away.” She bit her lower lip, unwilling to say one word more.
Zeke cursed softly and pulled her into his chest, trapping her arms between them. She meant to pull them free. Instead her fingers curled into his muscled flesh.
He sucked in a breath, and a shudder coursed through him.
She’d overstepped. Mortified, she drew back, clenching her fists to keep from reaching for him again. She searched his face. His expression was unreadable in the unlit chamber.
“I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I didn’t mean to…” She had no idea how to finish her sentence.
He didn’t speak for a moment, then he whispered, “You didn’t mean to…?”
He would make her say it? “To wake you.”
He huffed out a breath, that sounded a lot like laughter. “I thought you were apologizing for touching me…here.” He grasped both her wrists and placed her palms flat on his chest.
Her breath went choppy and her insides went hot in a way she’d never known. “Zeke?”
He didn’t answer in words, but combed his fingers through her hair.
As if of their own accord, her fingers curled into his supple, warm skin. His heartbeat seemed to pound into her fingertips.
He swallowed audibly. “Do you always sleep with your hair loose like this?”
He grasped a handful of her hair and tugged her toward him. Then he relaxed his grip, and let her hair sift through his fingers as his free arm encircled her waist to pull her closer.
When her nipples grazed his chest through the thin lawn gown, they puckered and tightened. She nearly moaned at the inexplicable pleasure of the sensation.
But he’d asked her a question. Something to do with her hair.
“No,” she said in a husky voice she barely recognized as her own. “I left it down tonight because I’ve had it bound for months and I couldn’t bear to—” She broke off and closed her eyes.
He was combing his fingers through her hair again.
“Yes?” His voice sounded gruff.
“I….” What had she been saying? Her lashes fluttered open when she felt his warm breath on her cheek.
He’d ducked his head, bringing his face only inches from hers.
She licked her lips as anticipation burned through her. He was going to kiss her.At last.
As if he knew he was turning her insides to mush, a lazy smile curved his lips. His white teeth gleamed like a pirate’s in the moonlit room. “Perhaps now you see why it’s not a good idea for a man to enter a lady’s bedchamber in the middle of the night.”
Before she could ask what he meant, his mouth covered hers.
The kiss was…everything. Tender. Bone-melting. Intoxicating.
She should protest. Call a halt. Anything other than twining her fingers into his thick mane of hair, and luxuriating in the silken feel of it.
With a low groan, his arms banded around her, flattening her breasts against his chest. His body heat burned through her gown, warming her all the way to her curling toes.
He grabbed fistfuls of her hair like a lusty kitten, finally twisting a mass of it around his wrist. “You taste like honey,” he rasped.
She felt herself tumbling back into her pillows. Had she dragged Zeke down with her or had he initiated the fall? She didn’t care. She knew she loved the heavy weight of him on her, and absolutely knew she never wanted him to stop kissing her.
Her hands skimmed his shoulders, coursing over the rippling muscles of his back. She couldn’t seem to stop her greedy exploration. Couldn’t make herself want to. She wanted to touch him everywhere, to commit his beautiful form to memory.
