Laura Kinsale by Seize the Fire

Author:Seize the Fire [Fire, Seize the]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-04-25T11:54:59+00:00

Sixteen

"Good God," Sheridan muttered, seized with a sudden doubt.

It had been a joke, this teasing: petty revenge for her cutting remarks and low opinion of him. The last thing he'd expected was acquiescence. Not in this.

From the start of their sojourn, he'd resigned himself to endless tantalizing torture because there was no other rational choice. And well he'd known that she was struggling with her own demons; he'd seen the way she looked at him in the firelight. But he'd kept the barriers in place, tolerating her hatred because it was the strongest.

Now, suddenly, it wasn't there.

He should have seen what he was meddling with. Damn his sense of mischief. One push, and the walls crumbled. She was looking at him in wary fascination, like a wild bird brought to hand. The sealskin flowed around her, revealing a glimpse of white shoulder here, a dimpled elbow there.

His chest felt tight. She was delicious, all tousled and plump. Her fingers rested over his hand. He closed his fist on nothing and turned his head.

Winter was closing in. He wasn't fooled by this one crystalline day. They'd be lucky to live through the season. He ought to get up now and go out and build himself his own shelter. He was crazy if he stayed with her; insane to think that once he touched her, he could remember caution.

But he was going to. He knew he was going to. Already he'd gone too far.

"Lie down," he mumbled without looking at her.

She obeyed him, silent and solemn. She was such a wide-eyed, serious mouse, taking everything that ever happened as if it were the God-given Judgment Day. He pushed his hand through his hair, rested on his palm and gazed down at her.

He found himself at a loss. He had no idea how to start—never mind the days of his corrupt youth, when he'd lectured ridiculous, randy middies on the facts of life and then, for a lark and an outrageous fee, conducted them in a giggling flock to some dockside brothel. He thought of the words he'd used then, the blunt warnings and casual jokes, the gaudy rooms and nonchalant bawds all painted and dressed and smelling of sweat beneath their perfume.

He could not use those words with her. But the thought of them made him draw a profound, shaky breath and close his eyes for mental balance.

He was going to regret this. It would kill him. To feel like this and not have her would be absolute annihilation.

"You want to touch me," he said into her palm. "And I want it." He kissed the curves between her fingers, one after another. "I want it." He looked into her eyes. "I'm going to show you where…and find the places that give you pleasure."

She wet her lips. Sheridan stared at the tip of her tongue and felt heat curl in his belly.

He hesitated and then said, "I might—it's possible I might—uh—forget myself. If I do something you don't like, you only have to say so, and I'll…stop.

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