He doesn’t kiss me. Instead, his eyes move slowly across my face, and his hand drifts along the column of my neck.
“I didn’t know what to make of you, the first time I saw you,” he says.
I smile lazily. “You mean when I attacked you and tried to get in your pants?”
He returns a grin of his own, but there’s emotion behind it, rather than his usual rakishness.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he says. “I was very, very tempted. I thought you were beautiful, but there was something in your eyes… something sad.” His hand is in my hair now, twining itself in the damp strands. “And then in the maze, you were so critical of yourself. I don’t understand. I don’t see how you can think that, even a little bit.”
I don’t want to be having this conversation right now. Not when my body is so eager for him. But at the same time, it doesn’t feel right to kiss him or pull him closer. Not when he’s looking at me like this. Not after everything he’s shared with me tonight.
“You don’t know me,” I say softly.
Ward lowers his face toward mine.
“I want to know you,” he whispers. “And not just your body.” His eyelids drop a little. “What were you thinking about in the pool?”
I close my eyes so I don’t have to endure the softness of his gaze.
“I was thinking about how peaceful it was,” I say after a moment. “About how everything seemed so perfect and still around us.”
His breath washes across my eyelids. “You were crying.”
I was right, then. He’d seen everything.
“It was beautiful,” I say. “And for a moment I could forget how much I hate this place.”
Ward is silent for a minute before responding.
“If you hate it so much,” he says, “then why are you here?”
It’s the question that’s continued to haunt me since the day I set foot in Huntington Manor. Ian asked it. Calder asked it. I’ve asked it of myself a hundred times.
But this is the first time I’ve found the answer.
“Because I deserve it,” I hear myself say. This is my punishment for the way I’ve lived my life. For the things I’ve said and done and felt in the past year and a half.
“What do you think of me?” Ward says quietly.
My eyes fly open. “What do you mean?”
He traces the edge of my ear with his finger, and his eyes follow the movement.
“As a person,” he says. “What do you think of me? Am I an asshole? A violent idiot you find attractive against your better judgment?”
“Of course not,” I tell him quickly. “I don’t—I mean, maybe you could work on your temper, but that doesn’t make you a bad person. You’ve had a lot to deal with in your life.” And I don’t even know the half of it, if what Asher suggested is true.
“And you’ve dealt with a lot, too,” he replies. “Nobody’s perfect. We deal with things in different ways.”
Part of me wants to believe him. But just like with everyone else, I know he doesn’t see the full picture. How can he know what I’ve dealt with? I’ve lied to him about who I am.
But before I can argue, he leans down and kisses me. It’s softer than his other kisses, but it still thrills me from the inside out.
Slowly, his hand drifts down my body, and his touch scorches my skin. He kisses me again, still gently and dreamily as if we have all the time in the world. I sigh against his mouth and raise my hands to his shoulders, trying to pull him nearer.
But he’s taking his time. His fingers slide back and forth across my stomach, so lightly that I’m surprised it doesn’t tickle.
He kisses my lips, my jaw, my nose, my eyelids. He presses his mouth gently against one of my temples, then the other. And then he’s kissing my hair, my ear, my neck. Every kiss is as soft as a whisper, but the reaction of my body is as violent, as hungry as it ever was. I’m alive with nerves, and the throbbing between my legs is growing stronger with every touch of his lips.
When his mouth joins mine again, I raise a hand to his neck to keep him there. This time, he doesn’t try to pull back. He presses my lips open with his tongue and lets his mouth sink against mine, giving me breath and breathing me in all at once.
When he finally shifts his body and brings his full weight down on me, it’s like my entire being sighs. It was waiting for this, this delicious pressure. My hands slide around his back, holding him in place, but instead of kissing me again, he lifts his head.
“Protection,” he murmurs.
I want to groan, but I release him and let him roll off of me. I’m thankful he’s responsible, even though my body aches at his absence.
I watch his back as he moves toward his jeans. His skin is still marked with bruises from the fight, but somehow, that only makes him look more invincible. He’s all muscle and hard lines and taut skin. Positively exquisite. He looks so yummy that I want to lick every last drop of rain and pool water off of him.
His eyes darken when he turns and notices me watching him. He moves back toward me slowly, then sits down on the edge of the chaise lounge. This time, his lips start lower. His mouth begins at the crest between my legs—making me squirm in anticipation—and then he slowly works his way up my belly, between my breasts, and over my throat. I close my eyes and revel in every sensation.
His fingers touch my cheek and he lowers his weight on top of me again.
“Open your eyes,” he murmurs.
I obey. His gaze is dark, and there’s an intensity in his blue eyes that makes my heart sing. But it’s not just lust—it’s understanding. Genuine awareness and feeling. He senses what I sense every time I’m near him—that we get each other. That there’s some connection here that goes beyond the physical.
It’s hard to breathe.
He nudges my legs apart with his knee, and still his eyes never leave mine. My hand flies up to touch his side, but there’s no impatience or desperation in my touch. I want to savor this moment by moment. I spread my legs, letting him settle between them. He’s ready to go, but there’s no hurry here.
Just when I think we’re about to be joined, he pauses. Slowly, he reaches down and pulls my hand from his side, then lifts it above my head against the cushion. He does the same thing with the other hand, and his fingers interlock with mine on either side of my head. He continues to look down at me, and I find that I can’t even blink. I don’t want to miss a moment of this. I want to see every emotion that flickers across his gaze.