Page 38 of Wake Me Most Wickedly
She was not supposed to touch Sol again.
She should be resisting his touch. However, she was doing neither. But no, not only did she not pull away as he cupped her chin, taking her mouth, instead she threw her arms around his neck and welcomed his embrace, drinking him in.
Because god, she wanted him, and for some inexplicable reason, he seemed to want her as well. Even though she was the last thing he should want or need. Especially given how reckless she was around him, with both her body and her words.
It was so easy to tell him those things she could barely admit to herself. And instead of being repulsed, he made her feel safe and seen and not at all wrong.
“What do you want, Hannah?” he murmured as he kissed down her neck, before moving over to her ear, going right for the lobe. She threw back her head and groaned at the sensation, her body tightening with lust.
“I don’t have wants,” she managed to say as he took full advantage of her position, pulling down her cloak and the top edge of her gown, his mouth trailing down every new area of skin exposed.
“Everyone has wants,” he whispered as her nipplesgrew hard beneath her stays, aching to be free, for more of the attention he was lavishing across her neck and collarbones, so close but yet so far from the aching points. “All you have to do is ask.”
If it were only so simple. If only he would behave like any other man—if only she could make him such in her mind. But she couldn’t tell him that because she didn’t quite understand it herself. Because by all logic he should be.
“What doyouwant?” she asked instead, pulling back.
“You,” he said simply. He stepped forward and cupped her chin. “Just you.”
The man was bloody out of his mind.
She gave a harsh laugh. “That’s quite the line,” she retorted, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“It’s true,” he insisted, his voice firm, his dark eyes serious.
A lump swelled in her throat.
“Why?” she whispered.
“Because when I’m with you, I’m the me I want to be,” he said. “Bold and brave and clever.”
“And you aren’t usually all of that?” she asked. After all, he was one of the precious few who moved seamlessly between their elite and the gentiles, the most respected outside the scholars.
His brow creased. “Perhaps. Or at least I can project the illusion of being so,” he said slowly. “But I’m not particularly skilled without my brother’s help and guidance. And I’m always careful to craft my responses to push an agenda—whether my family’s or my employer’s or even the community’s, depending on the situation.” He tutted. “I suppose I also know my place and, well, act accordingly.”
“I thought I’d perfected that sort of thing,” she teased, giving him a half smile, even if the joke stung a touch. “Another reason we do not belong anywhere near each other. My place, and what I need to do to thrive there, stand in complete opposition to everything you are and want.”
“That’s debatable.” He reached out and ran his knuckles over her jaw. She shivered. “I think you underestimate your options.Ouroptions.” She opened her mouth to argue, but he shook his head. “I don’t want to fight with you, Hannah. Not tonight, at least.” He held out his hand and she grasped it, threading her fingers through his.
“What do you want?” she asked, her heart speeding up once again, as he brought her knuckles to his lips.
“I want to give you pleasure,” he told her before frowning. “No. That’s not quite accurate. I want to give you more than that, but I’m afraid that’s all you’ll accept, at least right now, and…” He inhaled. “I’m sorry, I’m doing this all wrong.”
“Is there a right way to do this?” She forced a laugh. “Besides, while there’s a decent possibility you might be one, you’re certainly not talking to an innocent here. Most propositions I accept involve a great deal less flattery.”
If they involved asking at all.
She gave him her best saucy wink to show that she didn’t care. That none of it mattered anyway.
Because she was used to this, damn it. The script was comfortable now that she’d accepted her role, and she didn’t need him to try to change—
“But what if I—I wanted to be different.” He pulled her toward him, still holding her hand. “I want us tobe different. Even if I’m not sure what it means yet for the future.” He wrapped his free arm around her waist. “I just know that, right now, I want you. Not despite anything you’ve done in the past or present but, in a roundabout way, because of it. I just want you, exactly as you are, for no other reason than because you are who you are.”
Oh, they were being such fools. He should find himself a nice, sweet, young woman who could give him what he needed—and she, should leave him to it.
Freeing her hand, she gave him a pat on the cheek. “I think that might be the nicest thing that anyone has ever said to me.”
“Not nice.” He nipped at her fingers. “‘Nice’ is counterfeit.”
