Page 23 of The Gathering Storm

“I owe you no such explanation.”

He stilled and eased away from her. One hand slid up her back and cupped her nape under her braid, pinning her as surely as he had when he’d led her onto the dance floor. “Do you want me?”

She arched one eyebrow. “Have I not made that clear?”

“No, you haven’t. Look.” His hand squeezed her nape, gentle for all his strength. “No games, ok? If you can’t play it straight with me, if you can’t be here when you say you will, then it’s a no go. I’m not going to let you toy with me.”

“I’m not—”

His mouth came down on hers, silencing her words, and she opened for him without meaning to, opened and softened and met him kiss for kiss as her fingers twisted into his shirt and his hands tangled in her hair. Her heart rocketed in her chest, racing so fast, she could scarcely catch her breath, and still, Will kissed her, touched her, gentled her.

His fingers dug into her skin for one brief moment, then he drew back and touched his forehead to hers. A solid erection pressed into her lower stomach, just above the juncture of her thighs, and his breath shuddered out of him with every beat of his heart against hers.

“Never lie to me,” he said. “Not ever.”

She nodded mutely, too overwhelmed by their shared passion to deny him.

They danced to the end of the song, holding each other at a sedate distance, belying the desire racing through Sigrid’s blood. His kiss, that beautiful, achingly real kiss. She didn’t know what to make of it, couldn’t think around the heat ricocheting within her, and so when the song ended and another took its place, she allowed him to lead her back to the bar, accepted the fresh lager he built for her, and spent the rest of the evening observing the man who’d stolen her reason with the intensity of one kiss.

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