I stopped with only inches between us. My eyes were held by his gaze. He lifted a hand to my cheek, and I turned into his palm, unbidden, breathing him, my lips tingling against the thick pad of his thumb. My nerves were singing again, singing with awareness of him, with the anticipation of something more.
"You poor child," he murmured, looking down at me, pity and hunger warring in his eyes.
"Please," I said, finding my voice for a moment. "I want to live."
He bent his head toward mine, his hand sliding under my hair to cradle my neck. I tipped my head back, my lips parting, as his other hand found the small of my back.
"I want you to live, too," he said, so quietly that I could scarcely hear. "May God have mercy on me."
And then he kissed me.
My vision darkened as his mouth met mine, my legs giving way. His arms tightened around me, holding me easily against the length of his body. Mine was on fire, my nerves sizzling with the touch of him. His mouth-I gave him everything he demanded, welcoming his invasion, tasting him, wanting him, needing him.
His tongue took my mouth. This was no urging, no coaxing. It was an assertion of ownership, and I surrendered to it.
My nipples went hard, chafing against the fabric of my gown. I knew he could feel them through my dress and his shirt, pressed against his chest, and I wanted him to. I wanted him to know how badly I wanted him, how much I craved his touch.
He held me so hard that I could hardly breathe, but I wanted him closer still. His thigh was between my legs, and I knew he could feel the heat that pooled there. I ground my hips into him, gasping against his mouth, and the heat flickered upward and outward, into my center and through my body. He pushed back, hard, and I whimpered with need. His erection was against my hip. I had lost my mind. I didn't care. I just wanted him.
He bent over then, lifting me from my feet, effortlessly laying me on the chaise.
"No," I said as he released me, pulling weakly at his jacket. My skin was burning, the gown an unbearable torture against it. My thighs were wet with my desire.
"Enough," he said, and I had to subside. He reached down to the foot of the chaise and drew the thick blanket over my body. It settled over me, thick and muffling, a wall between our bodies.
No, I want you, I thought, but I could not speak the words. I could see the strain in his body, betraying that he wanted me just as much as I burned for him.