“So there you are,” she said, as calmly as she could manage. “That’s the first part of your promise, already come true. I can’t make myself regret those years. But I regret your absence more than you can ever know.”
He was holding her, but he didn’t look at her. Instead, he examined the leaves above them. “I’m going to seduce you today,” he announced.
The game had never had this edge before—this crackling sense of both bitterness and arousal. But no matter how quickly her pulse beat, Ginny made herself speak calmly. “I thought you had granted yourself three days for that. Accelerating the schedule, are you?”
He frowned up at the branches. “No. I need that last day to stomp on your bleeding heart. Don’t forget that.”
“Of course. You need time to properly revel in my abject misery.”
He should have agreed.
Instead, he reached out and laid his fingertips against her cheek. She knew what he’d claimed at the beginning. But what she saw in his eyes…
Simon never did anything by halves. He brought every bit of his bristling, awkward intensity to any task worth doing. And now, he ran his fingers lightly along the curve of her face.
“Come here, Ginny,” he said in a low, laughing tone, “and let me kiss you.”
Her breath seemed too hot for her lungs. His hand left a trail of sparks along her face. She took one step forward, and that was enough for him. His mouth sought hers. She had a moment—so small—to savor the smell of him, before his lips came down on hers and drove all other thoughts away.
There was only Ginny and Simon, and a kiss that had been seven years in the making.
The last time they’d kissed, they’d both been virgins. Eager, willing, lustful virgins, yes—but virgins nonetheless. Even their most heated kisses had been innocent.
There was nothing innocent about the way Simon touched her now. He set his hand in the curve of her spine and pulled her forward until her skirts molded against his legs. He slid his fingers down, down, until he cupped her buttocks, and then he leaned into her and nipped her lower lip.
Ginny let out a gasp, but no sooner had she opened her mouth then his tongue met hers, tasting her, taking her.
He knew just how to touch her this time—one hand pressing her body flush against his, the other drifting up her ribs to settle against the side of her breast, a warm weight not so much giving her pleasure as promising that it was certain to come.
This was a man who knew what he wanted. This was a man who knew what she wanted. And yet there was still a rough edge of irascibility in his kiss. He held her just a fraction too tightly; he scarcely let her breathe. She could almost sense him exulting in her shivers. See, his kiss seemed to say, this is what you missed, all those years.
She’d missed it dreadfully. She’d missed him.
He deepened their kiss, pressing her against the trunk of the oak. Bark met her back; he leaned the weight of his body against her and then kissed his way down her jaw. His fingers, cupping her breast, made little circles. And his form… God, he was a delight, slim and yet muscular. The hard ridge of his erection pushed against her.
“God, Ginny,” he growled against her skin.
She put her hand on his chest and pushed him away—only an inch, but enough to let the cool air flow over her skin, enough to take a deep breath, to try to cleanse her whirling thoughts.
“Don’t even argue,” he said. “I’m having you in my bed tonight.”
She could scarcely think. She was certain—almost certain—that his claims of stomping on her heart were pure balderdash. He had really only ever seemed brash and arrogant on the outside. But she knew him. The more he swaggered, the more uncertain he was feeling.
And the truth was, he had the power to stomp on her heart even if she didn’t take him to bed. She’d proven that to herself seven years ago.
Maybe she was mad. Maybe she was lonely. Maybe it was simply that she couldn’t imagine that a man who had made cuff links in her honor four years past would ever hurt her. She gave him her most brilliant smile. “If you have just forty-eight hours to seduce me, we had better spend as much time as we can in bed.”
BY THE TIME SIMON crashed through the front door of her house, he was wild with desire.
He didn’t care who saw them—he only knew he wanted her, and he was finally going to have her.
But she conducted him into the front parlor where they’d had tea before. Somehow, she managed to look untouched by lust. Only the sparkle in her eyes and the rough redness of her lips where he’d kissed her gave any hint that she had said they would go to bed.
Would it be churlish to demand that they make their way there now?
She walked to the window and looked out at the tulips. Half the field was denuded now; another wagon was being driven away. She shook her head sadly.