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Their joining had been a delicious combination of fantasy and reality. Otherwise, the feelings would have faded over time, brought to mind on rare occasions, to be examined unemotionally with a sigh of regret or a smile of distantly remembered pleasure.
She faced him, feeling impossibly small and fragile beside his indomitable strength. She had to win this battle of wills. There was no other choice. She had to make him believe in dreams again.
“Why don’t you kiss me, Chaz, and we’ll see whether it’s fantasy or reality.”
Something dark and powerful moved in his gaze. “All right, sweetheart. Have it your way.” His words were pragmatic enough, but the tone told her something far different. It warned of a man fully roused, aman who took what he wanted, no quarter given. “Let me prove that it isn’t Prince Charming you’re kissing, but the real thing.”
“Or perhaps it’ll be a little of both.”
"Don't fool yourself, darlin'.” He captured her in his arms, his hands strong and firm on her back. Then they slid to her hips, settling on the gentle swell flaring beneath her narrow waist. “I intend to see to it that you go into this marriage with your eyes wide open.”
“They’re open.”
“Keep them that way.”
Reaching up, he ripped off his mask, revealing the features that had haunted her memory all these years. The boyishness had given way to leaner angles, emphasizing his blade-straight nose and cheekbones set at an interesting slant. His mouth was broad, the lips wide enough to be considered sensuous, yet decidedly masculine. And his chin warned of a man set in his way. But his eyes...
His eyes held her, drew her in, denying the coldness of his words. Somewhere behind the barriers of pain, buried beneath years of denial, lay a heart capable of a love so deep, so indomitable, she’d do anything to find it again.
As though sensing the direction of her thoughts, he reached for her mask. “Still intent on keeping this on?”
“Please, don’t!” She evaded his hand with a quick twist that stirred her bells to life. She had no choice but to hide her face. Any chance of establishing a relationship with him would end the instant he saw who shewas.
Chaz reacted without thought. She shouldn’t have run. The primeval urge to hunt forced him to give chase. He couldn’t explain what ancient cravings drove him—whether it was the mystery of her features, or the fleet grace of her movements, or the generous womanly curves set in a dainty frame. Perhaps it was something far more basic, man scenting a woman’s desire. All he knew was he had to haveher.
Now.
She paused mid-flight, trapped by the railing, and spun to face him. Her gown belled out around her and he could hear the nervous give and take of her breath. For a long moment, she stared at him. And then her arms dropped to her sides in unconditional surrender. She was his for the taking and they both knewit.
He offered his hand and she pleased him by slipping willingly into his embrace. She was a contradiction that enticed, her pale hair bound into repressive order at the nape of her neck, while her dark eyes warned of an intensely passionate nature.
“Will you let me keep my mask on?” she asked.
“Keep it, if it’s important to you. But if I can’t see you, at least let me taste you.”
Her eyes fluttered closed, eyes that haunted him in unsettling and unexpected ways. “Chaz...”
Her whisper was sheer temptation, asiren’s call pitched to beguile even as it pleaded for his seduction. Her breath mingled with his, the honeyed warmth pulling him closer, demanding he sample the lush flavor. He wanted to take her mouth, hot and fast. Instead, he drove them both insane with slow and thorough.
He drank, deeply, his thirst ravenous. Her mouth was every bit as soft as he’d anticipated, opening to him without hesitation. They began the ageless dance of lips and tongue and teeth, first gentle, then rapacious. Teasing. Then deadly serious. He wrapped a hand around her neck, feeling her desperate moan vibrate against his palm. The sound licked through him, piercing straight to a non-existent soul. He knew that distinctive feminine whimper. Knew what it meant. Knew what it demanded ofhim.
“It’s coming, my sweet. Ihave what you need.”
He felt for the zipper at the back of her dress and lowered it. The metallic rent meshed with the urgent babel of bells. Their mouths melded again and again while his fingers slipped along the smooth expanse of her spine to the hollow above her buttocks. He backed her away from the railing, deeper into the shadows of the balcony. Moonlight cut across her mask, highlighting the ivory beads and golden bells, and revealing the liquid darkness of her eyes. Black eyes. Familiar eyes. Eyes that haunted.
“I’m no prince, sweetheart. I’m all man, blood and bone and as tough as they come.”
She shook her head, hair loosened from their embrace slipping in a pale curtain about her shoulders. “You’re a man who holds honor dear and protects those in his care.”
“You couldn’t possibly know that.”
“I know.”
“You’re putting your faith in a man who doesn’t believe in such things. Blind faith isn’t smart, honey. Not with someone like me.”
“That kiss erased any doubts I might have had.”
His gaze shifted to her mouth. Her lips were kissed into plump ripeness—damp and swollen and ready to be taken again. “Don’t kid yourself. That kiss was lust at its best.”
