Book 3 - Page 52 (2/2)

He spied me there, his lips parting. His eyes began to glitter, and I was momentarily blinded by the sight of him. Like staring at the sun.

Glorious man.

When my gaze dipped, his magnificent body tensed, as if I’d struck him. Sinews of muscle contracted, making the black slas.h.i.+ng tattoos across his torso appear to move.

I’d wanted to kiss every inch of those runes. I’d never had the chance.

A drop of water trickled down the center of his chest, past defined pecs and rigid abs to his blond goodie trail. . . . My mouth went dry.

He rasped, “You want this?”

I raised my gaze, gasping at the dark hunger in his expression. My mind blanked. Want his body? How could I not? He was pure temptation.

“I meant this”—he held up my bag—“but I could easily be persuaded to share anything else my wife might desire.”

Say something, Eves. Words would be good here.

He closed in on me, all lethal grace and harnessed power. I realized I’d been backing away from him when I met the wall. He kept coming until we were toe to toe.

The damp heat from his skin was like an embrace. Up this close, I could see the blond tips of his eyelashes.

He tossed my bag past me into the bedroom. Then his gaze dropped to my tank top. It hugged my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, outlining them.

“I recognize these clothes. It fills me with satisfaction to see you dressed in them. Not as much satisfaction as when I undress you, of course.”

He might be inexperienced, but he was naturally sensual—his every movement, his expressions, even the cadence of his accented words brought to mind promised pleasures.

I was out of my league.

“A week ago, you were naked in my bed for the second time. I kissed you. Petted you.” He eased down to say at my ear, “I was about to taste you once more.”

My breaths shallowed. “B-but then you broke my heart.”

“I’ll mend it. I’ll repair the damage I’ve done between us. In these games, I’ve trusted you when I shouldn’t have, and didn’t trust when I should have had faith.” He cupped my face with both palms. “If you could see your way to forgiveness . . .”

I bit my bottom lip. “I can forgive you. But that doesn’t mean I want to put myself in a situation like that again.” When he leaned his head in, I said, “Aric, we can’t kiss. I’m not doing anything with you. With either of you.”

Was he gauging my resolve? “Then we won’t kiss. Just let me touch your stunning face.” He caressed the backs of his fingers over one of my cheekbones, then along my jawline. “It’s a luxury I will always savor.”

I had to fight to keep my eyes open, to keep my body from moving against his.

“So beautiful. I won’t stop until you’re mine. I won’t ever rest. Es tevi mīlu.”

I breathed, “What does that mean?”

He smoothed his elegant fingers over me the way a sculptor would touch his statue. “I love you.”

Answering words bubbled up, but I couldn’t be in love with Aric. “There’s a difference between love and desire,” I said, reminding him—and myself.

“If all I wanted was a bedmate, then why do I feel such jealousy? Why was I racked with misery to be parted from you? For one like me, a week is a blink of an eye, yet it felt interminable.”

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