Heat flared instantly, burning across his skin and setting his blood on fire. Cupping her nape, he held her still, fitting his mouth to hers. Taking it. Possessing it. As he should have done years ago.
Her hands pushed at his shoulders, then slid up and over them, thrusting into his hair. He growled, maddened by the simple contact, aroused to bursting, his cock hard and throbbing. Cupping her hip, he urged her closer, grinding his erection into the soft flesh of her lower belly. She surged into him in response, feverish and ardent, her body writhing in his grasp. Her grip on his scalp began to hurt and he welcomed the pain. It grounded him. Otherwise, he feared he would pull her to the floor, push up her skirts, and show her how far beyond friendship his feelings went.
Sophie yanked her head to the side, panting. “I cannot breathe.”
His mouth moved to her throat, then to her shoulder.
“Justin.” Her hands roamed over the length of his back, caressing through the fine linen of his shirt. “You entice me to give what I shouldn’t.”
The sob in her voice struck him with the force of a blow to the gut and pained him as deeply.
With a growl, he pushed her away.
They stood apart, breathing harshly, flushed and disheveled. He ran his hands through his hair, feeling the sweat that dampened the roots. His entire frame was tight, tense, hard, his jaw clenched.
“I am at a loss,” he said, his hands fisting. “I cannot have you, and yet I cannot conceive of not having you. Not when this,” he gestured between them, “is all I can think about.”
“I am so confused.” Her green eyes were dark and fathomless. “I feel…for you…”
“Say no more. I am a man, not a saint.”
“I loved him. He made me happy.”
“It pleases me to know that you were content.”
“I know it does.” Her hand lifted and came over her heart. “I would not change my past because it gave me both beautiful memories and my son, and yet all day I have been haunted by imaginings of what could have been. Where would we be in our lives if I had known?”
“All this time, I thought you were aware and chose differently regardless.”
“No.” She held her hand out to him, but he did not take it, afraid of what he would do if they touched again. Her arm lowered slowly. “I have no wish to hurt you.”
“This is not your fault, Sophie. Any guilt you might feel is unwarranted.”
“There is no way for us to be together, is there?”
“No way that we could both live with,” he said gruffly.
Cursing, he turned from her and crossed to the grate. He rested his arm on the mantel and stared into the fire, willing his burning blood to cool. He could taste her on his lips, smell her on his clothing. She was in the palm of his hand, yet he could not hold on to her. “I will leave in the morning.”
“I cannot run you from your own home.”
“I prefer it.” His eyes closed. “I would smell you here. See you here. Want you here.”
“Why? Why me? I make every misstep and you walk true.”
Justin looked over his shoulder. She stood where he had left her, watching him, so heartrendingly beautiful in her yearning. “Who can explain the attraction between opposites?”
Her lower lip quivered, yet she stood tall and proud, undaunted by the unkind turns in her life. He wished he could shelter her from more pain and tragedy, but fate was cruel to him as well, mocking him for his youthful caution. He should have made clear how he felt years ago, and left no room for doubt or misunderstanding. All this time, he had thought she was never meant to be his, that she was not capable of deeper affection for him. Now he realized that he might have had his heart’s desire, if only he had disregarded his pride and opened himself to her.
“You should return to your room,” he murmured, looking away, resigned.
Silence filled the space between them. Only the sounds of the crackling fire and his rapid breathing offered relief.
“Justin…?”
He heard the soft plea in her voice and his back tensed.
She cleared her throat, causing his mouth to twitch. He knew that sound well. It was the sound of her gathering courage.
It was also the herald to mischief.
“I cannot be your wife or mistress,” she said in a low, husky voice that warmed his blood like strong wine. “But for tonight…I can be your l-lover.”
Justin spun to face her, flushing with avid lust and soul-deep longing. “Bloody hell.”
Her lovely face took on that obstinate cast he adored. The tapers around the room burnished her, their golden glow gleaming off her creamy skin and glossy curls. “I want…I want…”
“Christ,” he muttered, lacing his fingers at the back of his neck, “I know what you want. Do not give voice to it, or I may not have the strength to resist giving it to you.”
Sophie stared at the marquess displayed in the alluring pose, his throat bared to her, his shoulders so broad, his arms flexing powerfully. She licked her lips, and moved toward him. “Why resist?”
“You owe me nothing.”
“This is not about the past. This is about now, this moment, when I feel as if something in me is dying. I came to you tonight knowing this visit would lead to farewell, and yet now that we are agreed, I mourn. I haven’t the strength to sleep alone tonight, aware that in the morning you will leave and I will not see you again.”
His gaze narrowed. “You ask too much from me, Sophie. Better to wonder how it would be, than to know.”
“Is it? Would it not be better to live on real memories, than it would be to live on fantasy?” She rounded the wingback.
“And what of tomorrow?”
“We can worry then.”
He snorted and dropped his hands to his lean hips. “It is exactly that sort of thinking that lands you into trouble so often.”
Lowering her voice, she moved with what she prayed was a seductive sway to her hips. “This time, I hope it lands me into your bed.”
The groan that rumbled in his throat made her breasts swell further until they ached.
“I have a confession, my lord.”
He waited. Alert. A predator crouched for the pounce. Sophie shivered, then embraced the driving urge she had to touch him, hold him, clasp him deep within her. Here, in his lair, with its earthy colors and dark, masculine appeal.
Dressed only in his shirtsleeves and trousers, he revealed a glimpse of the man he was in his private hours. A man she could have had. She regretted the loss, although she would not alter her past decisions.
“You see, my lord,” she stepped up to him, coming to a halt a mere inch away, “your supreme self-possession is an irresistible lure. I want to crawl beneath it, see inside you, slip under your skin.”
Lifting her hand, she set it over his heart and felt its frantic tempo. She was in much the same state; short of breath with raging blood. “When we were younger, I would sometimes shock you deliberately just to see beneath your exterior.”
“You have always been under my skin,” he murmured, pulling her into his embrace, where she wanted to be. He seemed to consider her carefully, then he cupped her cheek, staring down at her with a starkly intense gaze. “Be certain, love. Once we walk down this path, there is no turning back.”
Sophie soaked in the warmth of his hard body and the rich, spicy scent that clung to him. Just days ago, the thought of him had set her insides aflutter. She felt the same now, but for an entirely different reason. It was no longer the anxiety of reacquainting oneself with someone who had once been dear. It was anticipation and pure, heady desire.
“I have always admired you,” she confessed, nuzzling into his palm. “My life has been in such disarray since the death of my parents, but you were so solid and immutable. Even as I provoked you, you strengthened and motivated me. Over the years, I often found myself imagining what you would do and considered that carefully before acting. I would not be the woman I am today had you not been in my life.”