He knew just what she needed. He worked in and out, stroking a fraction deeper every time.
And still she craved more. She rocked her hips back and forth, trying to draw him deeper, deeper. She needed him. She needed him so deep inside.
“No one else has any idea, do they? What a naughty, wanton girl you are. No one else sees what I see. No other man makes you twist and pant and moan.”
She arched off the shelves, gasping. “No.”
“Only me.” His fingers thrust deep. “Say it.”
“Only you.”
With a soft groan of approval, he bent his head to lavish kisses on her breasts. Using his teeth, he tugged her bodice downward. Before she could protest that the gown was borrowed and already stretched to its seams, she felt the small rip of fabric.
Her breasts spilled forward, and a dizzying rush of air flooded her lungs.
“Yes.” He eased her breast from her stays and circled her nipple with his tongue. “I know what you need.”
He slid both hands to her hips. In one swift motion, he lifted her six inches off the ground, setting her backside on the next shelf up. Nudging her skirts to her waist, he moved between her legs.
“If you don’t want this, tell me.” His voice was hoarse. “You don’t have to scream. You don’t have to push me away. You’ve only to say it.”
Izzy didn’t know what to say. Her body wanted his. That much was certain. But was this going to be her first—and possibly only—experience of lovemaking? A furtive, angry tupping against a dusty shelf? He wouldn’t be making love to her. He’d be striking back at the very idea of love.
“I . . .” She worked for breath. “I’m not saying no.”
He moaned and lifted her, so that she straddled his hips.
“But I’m saying, not like this. I want emotion. I want tenderness. I think you want those things, too.”
His fingers dug into the flesh of her backside, and he ran his tongue across her chest. “Curse tenderness. To hell with emotion. I’m not the man to fulfill your heart’s desires, but I can give you everything—everything—your body’s craving.”
“Just because . . .”
He sucked her nipple into his mouth, and she lost her voice to another wave of bliss.
She wove her fingers in his hair and tried again. “Just because she ran away, it doesn’t mean a woman can’t love you. Ransom, I . . . I know there’s more to you than this.”
“There’s a great deal to me.” He rocked his pelvis against hers, and the hard ridge of his erection stroked her core. “You could have it all. Just as long and hard and deep as you need it.”
Oh. Oh, how she needed it.
He ground against her in a firm, delicious rhythm. The warmed, weathered buckskin teased over her thighs. Izzy whimpered and clung to the shelving, helpless to do anything but hang on for the ride.
With every roll of his hips, he was pushing her higher. Closer to release.
And he knew it.
“Come for me.” He slid his hand between their bodies, and his fingers filled her deep again. As he worked them in and out, the heel of his hand rubbed against her pearl. “I need to feel it. I need to hear it.”
A thin whimper of pleasure caught in her throat.
“My name.” He stroked deeper. “Say my name. I want you to know it’s me.”
“Ransom.” Her grip tightened on the shelf.
And then suddenly—
Something gave way.
With a creak and a whoosh, her whole world turned on its axis. Plunging them both into the dark.
“Wh-?” She panted for breath. “What happened?”
Damned if Ransom could say. One moment, he was in paradise. Izzy gasping his name, all that tightness and heat surrounding his fingers . . . Victory, right in the palm of his hand.
A moment later, they were in hell. The entire section of wall, bookshelves included, had swung on its axis, depositing them here.
Wherever “here” was.
He couldn’t tell. He just knew that everything in it was close. And dank. The air smelled of rot and the mustiness of centuries.