She sounded so shocked. “Any woman.”
“But . . . your reputation. You’re a legendary lover!”
He inclined his head. “I told you that you should not believe everything you hear in ladies’ salons.”
“Forgive me, but if I remember correctly, you did divest me of my clothes without the use of your hands.”
The image of her in his office, draped over his chair, flashed. More welcome than he’d ever admit. He met her gaze. “Luck.”
“You don’t believe in it.”
She was incredible. His perfect match.
“Six years without touching a woman,” she said in awe.
He paused. “Until tonight.”
“Until me,” she breathed.
He wanted to share that breath, to touch her again. “I can’t stop myself with you.”
Her lips curved into a smile of utter feminine satisfaction, and Cross was instantly heavy and stiff, even as he renewed his vow not to take her. Not to lose himself in her. Not even now, when she owned him inch by unworthy inch.
“It is your punishment, then? Your penance? Celibacy?”
“Yes.” On her lips, it sounded idiotic. Celibacy had no place near Philippa Marbury. Not when she was so obviously made for him.
Fifteen minutes in an alcove at the Angel had not been enough.
A lifetime would not be enough.
“I cannot. Not with you, Pippa. You’re to be married.”
She hesitated, then whispered, “To another.”
He ached at the words. “Yes. To another.”
“Just as you are.”
“Yes.” His ultimate penance.
She lifted one hand, settling the soft palm on his cheek and he could not resist capturing it with his own hand, holding her touch there. Savoring it. “Jasper.” His given name whispered through him, and he loved it on her lips. Wanted to hear it over and over again, forever. If he were another man, he might have a chance to.
But he had to leave her.
She was not his to touch.
“Jasper,” she whispered again, coming up on her bare toes, wrapping her other hand around his neck, pressing her beautiful body against him, nothing but a scrap of linen between his hands and her soft, lovely skin.
He shouldn’t.
Every inch of him ached for her—the product of too long a time without her followed by too brief a time with her. He wanted to lift her and throw her onto her bed and take her . . . just once.
It would never be enough.
“If you really want to save me . . .” she whispered, her lips disastrously close.
“I do,” he confessed. “God help me . . . I can’t bear the thought of you hurt.”
“But you have hurt me. You hurt me even now.” Her voice was low and soft, with a thread of irresistible wickedness he did not expect.
His hands came around her waist, adoring the heat of her through her night rail. “Tell me how to stop it,” he said . . . knowing the answer.
“Want me,” she said.
“I do.” He had wanted her since the moment he met her. Since before. “I want every inch of you . . . I want your mind and body and soul.” He hesitated, the words an ache in the room. “I have never wanted anything like you.”
Her fingers slid into his hair, tangling in the strands. “Touch me.”
He couldn’t deny her. He couldn’t resist looking back.
One glance. One night.
It was all he could have. It was more than he had ever deserved.
One night, and he’d leave her to her perfect, ideal world.
One night, and he would return to his Hell.
“I won’t ruin your life, Pippa. I won’t let you be destroyed.”
She pressed her lips to his, her soft skin making him mad, and whispered so quietly he almost didn’t hear it. “I love you.”
The words rocketed through him, and he couldn’t stop himself from lifting her into his arms and giving them both what they wanted. What would change everything and nothing at the same time. He lifted her against him, adoring the way she followed his lead, pressing herself to him, running her mouth across his jaw, setting him on fire.
She shouldn’t love him.
He wasn’t worth it.
Wasn’t worth her.
“You are a remarkable man,” she said, lips at his ear. “I cannot help it.”
One night would destroy him.
But there was no resisting her. Her brilliant mind. Her beautiful face.
There never had been.
Chapter Sixteen
He hadn’t touched a woman in six years. Had resisted them . . . until her.
Until now.
Until this moment, when he lifted her from her feet and carried her to the bed where she’d slept for her entire life, and lay her down, following her down with his heady, heavy weight, pinning her beneath him with long limbs and corded strength and the promise of a pleasure she had never known.