Page 153

There was warning in my name. There was also hunger.

“Your body was pressed against mine less than an hour ago,” I reminded him. “I felt what you wanted.”

A muscle moved along his jaw.

“That was not a choice.”

“This is.”

The last of his restraint broke.

Demitri stepped into me with a controlled violence that stole the air from my lungs. One hand caught the back of my neck while the other closed around my waist and pulled me against him.

His eyes held mine. He gave me one final second to retreat before his mouth came down on mine.

The kiss was not gentle. It carried everything he had denied himself since the moment I entered his church. Fear. Rage. Hunger. Ten years of punishment collapsing beneath one act of need. His mouth moved over mine with an intensity that bordered on anger, as though he hated the desire even while surrendering to it. His fingers tightened at the back of my neck, holding me still while he kissed me deeply enough to tear every remaining thought from my head.

I gripped his shirt.

Demitri made a low sound against my mouth. It was rough, almost broken, and it went through me with more force than the gunfire in the market.

He turned us. My back struck the tiled wall. His hand moved from my waist to my hip, pulling me into the hard line of his body. Heat gathered everywhere we touched.

I opened my mouth beneath his. The kiss deepened. His tongue swept against mine, and whatever remained of the careful priest vanished. He kissed like a man who had spent ten years starving and had finally found something worth sinning for.

My fingers slid into his hair and he shuddered. The reaction nearly destroyed what remained of my control. Then his hand found the bandage around my palm. Demitri froze. He tore his mouth from mine. Both of us were breathing hard. His forehead pressed against mine, and his hand remained locked around my hip as though releasing me required more strength than he possessed. His eyes opened. I saw the ruins inside them. His thumb brushed the edge of my jaw. The touch was painfully gentle after the ferocity of the kiss.

“You should be afraid of me.”

“I am.” The admission moved through him. “But not for the reason you want,” I continued. “I’m afraid you’ll decide this is another thing you have to punish yourself for.”

His face tightened.

I touched his cheek. For one terrible second, I thought he would step away. Instead, he kissed me again. Slower this time. His mouth moved over mine with the restraint of a man memorizing something he was afraid of losing. His hands framed my face, holding me as though I were precious and temporary.

When he drew back, cold air entered the space between us, though his hands remained against my cheeks.

“I shouldn't have done that.”

I had expected regret. I hadn’t expected it to hurt so quickly.

I lowered my hands from his chest.

“Do you regret kissing me?”

Demitri stepped back.

The distance looked forced, each inch taken against his own will.

“I took vows.”

“I’m not asking you to abandon them.”

His gaze dropped to my mouth before returning to my eyes. My pulse stumbled. Demitri looked furious with himself for speaking, but he didn’t take the words back.

“I will always want more,” he echoed. “I will take more if you give it to me, and I don't know what will remain of the man I spent ten years becoming once I do.”

“You’re still alive beneath everything you buried, Demitri. Why can’t you see that?”