Page 35 of A Tempest of Desire
“Knowing the truth of me, do you still want to kiss me?” she asked quietly, lifting her lashes, capturing his gaze.
More than I did that night.
“You belong to another.”
“Who isn’t here. Besides, he gave us permission that night.”
Only Langdon wanted passion, fire. He wanted to delve into her mouth, possess it, and make it his own. He wanted her thinking of him anytime she kissed Hollingsworth. He realized with a sudden jolt that it was terribly selfish of him, to make her yearn for him in place of the earl. Perhaps it was because he feared if he kissed her, he’d never be able to kiss another without thinking of her, that she had the power to brand herself on his soul.
With something as simple as a kiss. But even without her mouth pressed to his, he knew it wouldn’t be simple. It would be complex, vastly so. He wanted to know her taste, her sounds—sighs or moans—her heat.
If a kiss could be so much, what the devil would fucking her do to him?
Could he be content with only kissing her, content with a part when he desired the whole?
He didn’t recall her moving. Perhaps it had been him. But suddenly their breaths were mingling, and he could see the black outline that circled the blue of her eyes.
“You’re battling what you should do against what you want to do.” Her voice was low, throaty, intimate. “I have the means to make you surrender if you don’t want to take the responsibility for kissing me.”
He wasn’t half-tempted to demand she make him surrender. He’d never much enjoyed losing but suspected she would make it reverberate as a victory.
“You can say it was all my doing,” she added.
“When I want something badly, I’m not gentle when it comes to taking it. After that cut on your lip heals enough that you can smile fully without grimacing, I’ll give you a kiss that will drop you to your knees.”
She touched the tip of her tongue to the corner of her mouth, perhaps testing it, and he was torn between hoping to see a wide smile and dreading how kissing her might destroy him. He was going to put her in the boat tomorrow morning, row her to the far shore, and get her to a railway—no, not the railway. He wouldn’t risk taking her from the world. A coach, then. He would ensure he never crossed paths with her again, never saw that bright smile, never had to honor the vow he’d just recklessly made.
“I look forward to it,” she said, easing away from him, and returning to her stitching.
The breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding came out on a rush. It was then that he realized he had indeed been hoping to see a wide smile. He wanted to kiss her that desperately, so desperatelyat that precise moment that he would willingly accept the possibility that she would ruin him for any other woman. He hoped to hell he would ruin her for any other man, that with his kiss she would experience a tempest of desire such as she’d never known.
Chapter 15
She’d never done such shoddy stitching before, but her fingers were shaking. She had been tempted to force that bright smile, but she didn’t want to have any discomfort mar her memory of his kiss. When he said he wouldn’t be gentle, she didn’t think he would be rough or brutish but instead would pour all his passion into it. It wouldn’t be like sailing through the clouds in her balloon. It would be like striving to survive the storm. Frightening. Exhilarating. Unforgettable.
She shouldn’t have been trying to tempt him. He was dangerous. He made her long for things she’d never had. He made her long for things she would never have. A man who loved her, a man who would marry her.
She had known when she accepted Hollie’s offer what she was giving up. But at the time it hadn’t seemed at all like a sacrifice. Her father had taught her that even marriage wasn’t safe. That the only safety was in being able to stand on her own.
And she had taken that knowledge with her and used it to make herself invincible.
But Langdon made her feel vulnerable. He made her feel like he possessed the power to break through the walls she’d erected to protect her heart. A heart that had broken when she’d learned the truth about her father, a heart that had never completely healed. A heart that didn’t trust love.
One of the reasons she went up in her balloon was to remember how special he’d made her feel. Perhaps, too, a part of her was searching for him, wanting an explanation. Or a confrontation.
He’d taught her men could be disappointing. Her relationship with Hollie was on her terms. While it might not look like it outwardly, she held all the power. With Langdon, she feared the power would go to him and much like the kiss he’d promised, he wouldn’t be gentle with it. He could turn her inside out. He could make herwantas she never had before. Even now, her tongue kept testing her lip to see if it could withstand a broad smile, endure his kiss.
Tomorrow perhaps. And if it didn’t happen before she left the island, she’d collect when she was in London, for surely their paths would cross at some point. Hollie certainly hadn’t been bothered by the notion of her spending time alone with Langdon. Why should she feel guilty over a kiss?
Even if she wanted it now, later would have to do.
She knotted off the thread, snipped it free, and tucked the needle back into the sewing basket. “I misjudged my healing after last night’s calamity. I’m going to retire.”
He studied her as one might a jewel he was assessing for flaws. “Are you ill?”
“Merely weary. Surviving takes a toll, I suppose. Will you be—” She stalled, wondering why she was suddenly shy about what she wanted to ask. It seemed, however, that knowing he wanted to kiss her made anything that hinted at flirtation a more serious endeavor, not to be taken lightly. She cleared her throat. “—joining me?”
“You’re far too enticing, Marlowe. I’d best not.”
