Shame at the very suggestion fired her cheeks. “Of course not.”
He grinned, even chuckled. “I assumed as much. Your eyes are innocent, for all their reading. You have no idea how alluring that is. I would wager you have never even been kissed.”
She would have fled, had it been an option. But he had not dismissed her, and he still restrained her with his touch. Then his head inclined toward hers. She wanted to find some clever words to say to halt him, to deflect the intent in his eyes, but she felt frozen in place. It was the talk of Socrates, perhaps. The man, centuries dead, had managed to sting her with his torpedo fish venom just as he had his friends of the day. She could not think, could not move, was nothing but a paralyzed victim of rhetoric that had led her into a trap.
His lips touched hers. A stroke, a caress. Soft but nevertheless terrifying, especially when he slid his hand to the back of her head and anchored her there with his fingers woven through her hair. He parted her lips, deepened the kiss.
She did not respond. She knew not how, and would not have, even if she did. It felt so strange, that sensation of another’s mouth on hers, nearly repulsive. It made an unwelcome heat singe her spine, spike down her legs. Her hands shook, but she dared not reach for support, as he was the only thing close enough to grip.
He urged her up, then to a seat beside him. She tried to reclaim her mouth, but he followed her in her retreat and pushed her down into the pillows. Overtaken by panic, she tore her lips away from his. “Master, please. I cannot do this.”
Jason’s smile was far too confident. “You will learn.”
“No.” She held him away as much as she could with hands pressed to his chest. “It is wrong. Your parents have not given me to you–”
“No fear.” In another situation, the lopsided grin may have been charming. At the moment, if felt more like a threat. “I am perfectly capable of taking you without their assistance.”
“Master–”
“That is right.” His tone went hard, cold. “I am your master. You are a woman–and less, a slave. Will you object to me?”
She clamped her mouth closed, but a veil of tears blurred her vision.
He kissed away the drop that spilled over, but any tenderness inspired by that vanished when he slipped a hand onto her leg. “Hush now, beloved. I will not hurt you. This is a good and normal thing.”
With a wild shake of her head, she struggled to slip away. An impossible goal, given the way his body pinned hers to the bed. “It is a sin.”
“If so, it is mine, not yours.” He sounded unconcerned by the possibility. “You have no choice in this, Abigail.”
As if to prove it, he took her mouth again. It did not distract her from the hand he moved upward. Pain blinded her, but her whimpers earned no response. Then something else happened, a pleasure that underscored the pain.
It was wrong. She knew it was wrong, wanted nothing more than to find an escape. But she could not move, and confusion swirled inside her with each kiss he gave her. She did not want this . . . so why did her body respond of its own will to his touch? Torment and desire twined inside, one overtaking the other only to be overtaken in turn, until she gasped in shock at the sensations crashing through her, then sagged at their ebb.
Jason pulled away, victory in his eyes. “You see how I can please you? And I have more to offer than that.”
She drew a deep breath in through her nose, trying to regain her composure. Tears stung her eyes again. She knew not what he had taken from her, but deep in her heart she knew she was no longer the chaste woman she had been when she awoke an hour earlier.
Jason pulled her tunic back down to cover her legs. “You will come to me tonight, after my parents have retired. We will finish this.”
Turning her face away, she struggled to hold back the sobs begging release. “What have you done to me?”
He sat up, as if it hardly mattered. “I have been kind. I have chosen to ease you from your maidenhood instead of forcing it from you all at once. Had I done that, it would have been much more painful.” The stroke of his thumb over her cheek felt like a brand. “You are already mine. There is no sense in fighting me.”
The truth of that weighed heavily on her soul. She pushed herself up and stumbled off his bed. “Am I dismissed?”
“Until tonight. I will be waiting.” She got a step away before his voice halted her again. “And Abigail? I think it would be wisest not to mention this to my mother.”
As if she would uncover her shame to the eyes she most revered? With barely a nod, she left the room.
*
“You seem bothered.”