her fingers, rolling like thunder through his resistance, making a mockery of the dare he’d laid before them. This wasn’t a game. This was real. And he didn’t want it. Not the desire. Not the weakness. Not her.
But it didn’t matter what he didn’t want as her skirts swished about his ankles, and her weight leaned against him in sweet enticement. He wanted her, had since the first moment he’d seen her step off the stagecoach two months ago, self-contained, graceful, elegant. A lady. The one thing he could never have.
“You’re going to have to bend down.”
The soft whisper joined the thunder, adding to the volume. Her hands slid up his chest, tucking behind his neck. Lightning flashed on the edges of his control. She tugged. He didn’t go. That wasn’t who he was, how he’d allow it to be between them.
Sliding his hand down the delicate line of her back, he demanded, “Why?”
He wanted it put into words, to hear it from her lips. She blinked up at him, confusion and desire deepening the blue of her eyes. “For that kiss you wanted.”
Who did she think she was kidding? This wasn’t about any goddamn deal. This was about the attraction that neither of them wanted. This was about them. As natural as his next breath one hand settled into the hollow of her back. The other, her shoulder. She was tall. She fit his embrace as if she were made for it. Fit his hands as if she were made for them. His voice rasped from his throat, more growl than seduction. “Ask me nicely.”
He felt the tremor that shook her head to toe, but it wasn’t fear that had her pupils dilating and her tongue sliding over her lower lip in soft pink enticement. His cock thickened painfully within the restriction of his pants.
“Please...” She cleared her throat. He adjusted his stance. “Please, lean down.”
Knives couldn’t cut more cleanly than that simple compliance. The barrier he kept between them tore free in the aftermath. His fingers slipped down her arm, chaining the delicacy of her wrist between his fingers while he urged her closer. The soft plea whispered like a siren’s song in his head, bringing forth the side of him he kept hidden. She watched him carefully as he brought her hand down between them. He liked her eyes on him. Her world narrowed to him. Her other hand naturally followed the first.
“That’s it,” he whispered as her fingers spread over his heart. “Feel me. Feel what I want.”
“A kiss.”
“Yes.” Yes, he wanted a kiss. A kiss was a beginning to so much more.
A kiss could be everything. He leaned down, but not so far she didn’t have to stretch that delectable body up the length of his. Her hands against his chest kept him from feeling the fullness of her breasts, but he could imagine how they’d feel in his hands, hard-tipped and delicate just like her. Her hand slipped down into his. Curling his fingers around hers, he pressed it to his chest, struggling with the want to press her closer, the utter need to drag her hands overhead, to pin her with his hands and body, to kiss her until the walls she’d built so well came tumbling down, and there was just him and her and the truth between them. Until she gave him what he needed.
Surrender.
Ace gritted his teeth, loosening his grip, controlling the wild impulse, forcing himself back to even breaths, to what was.
Pet was a good woman, not a whore. She was going to kiss him to pay a debt that wasn’t even hers because she thought it was the only way to save a boy. Fuck. He was a bastard. He took a step back. She went with him, following as naturally as he could desire. His good intentions took a hit. Before he could regroup, her lips touched his, and that fast, all thoughts of right or wrong drowned under a wave of lust so strong, it stole his breath. Her lips parted, catching it, linking them in a moment fraught with danger. With promise.
Why? he asked silently. Why this woman? Why now?
The answer came in her soft moan as her lips nibbled at his. Because she wanted him. And lust didn’t need any more explanation than the proximity of two compatible bodies. Or so he told himself as her lips moved gently against his, untutored but determined, always so determined, this woman. Tilting her lance against the windmills, needing to make a difference, too naive to realize that no matter what she did, nothing ever really changed. Except this. This kiss changed everything. And she didn’t even know what she was inviting.
It was a fleeting pressure, surprisingly soft, surprisingly sweet. A kiss just like he’d asked for. But not what he wanted. And damn, if this was all he was ever going to have, he was going to have it the way he wanted. Cupping Pet’s skull in his hand, Ace forestalled her escape with the slight pressure of his fingers against the back of her neck. He expected struggle, but she didn’t move, just stood there looking expectantly at him. Her eyes were heavy lidded and ripe with the question within. The perfect picture of a woman enthralled. Everything inside him perked. It was a struggle to find his voice.
“The deal was a real kiss, a kiss like you meant it.”
She blinked. “That’s how I kiss when I mean it.”
She couldn’t be that green. Not at her age with her bold manner. “No one kisses like that when they mean it.”
She blinked at him again, and he realized that maybe she really was that naive. Maybe that pressure-on-pressure kiss was, to her, boldness itself. If that was the case, it was a damn shame. Pet was a woman of passion, and no woman of passion should go through life thinking that casual contact constituted lust, certainly not any woman that kissed him. If Pet was going to walk away from him today and tell someone tomorrow that she got Ace Parker to do what she wanted by kissing him, it was going to be a goddamn kiss that both of them remembered fondly.
“I’ve seen your serious, my Pet, and that wasn’t it.”
“My name is Petunia.”
How the hell she managed to stick that aristocratic nose in the air while in his embrace, he had no idea, but she managed it. It ticked him off more than her My name is Peturnia, and to you, Miss Wayfield amused him.
“I prefer Pet.”
Licking her lips, she stepped to the side, away from the wall. “You make me sound like a dog.”
“Oh, you’re much more valuable than a dog.”
Her “Gee, thanks” made him smile. As did the little wiggle she did for freedom. He let her smooth her skirts and tug on that tight jacket that made the most of her curves before spreading his fingers across her nape and tickling the sensitive skin. She shivered. He did it again. No shiver this time, but the sharp intake of breath was even more satisfying. It said she was still aware of him.
He took a step forward, and she took a step back in a now-familiar dance. He turned slightly, angling in with his body so that the wall was behind her again. The image of her standing there, arms pinned above her head, helpless in his arms while he ravished her mouth, wouldn’t leave his mind.
Once again her hand pressed against his chest. But this time in denial. Raising an eyebrow at her, he pointed out the obvious.
“If you want me to give up my winnings to a man who doesn’t deserve it, I’m going to want more than that quick peck.”
“You’re not giving it up for a man. You’re giving it up for a boy.”
