Page 41 of All for her Forgiveness

"Minutes? What does that mean?"

"That's all we have. I'm not going to your house."

I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't for one corner of his mouth to lift into an almost smile. "I don't have a house here. I don't live in New Orleans."

I feel my face heating up, at the same time wondering whether he's playing with me and didn't mean it seriously when he hinted that we could spend more time together than this ride will last. "You understood what I meant."

"Yes, I did. Will you tell me why you won't come with me?"

"I don't know you."

"And would you need to know me to stay with me tonight?"

Instead of answering and making myself even more of a fool, letting him think I'm a hick, I evade the question. "You said you could make our encounter today last longer than just a few minutes in the car. How?"

He stares at me for so long that I have to make an effort not to move, agonizing over whether I understood much more in his words than he intended to say. Then, without any warning, his arm moves with the speed of a feline, and I feel his hand grip the back of my neck.

"I'm not someone you should get involved with, Kennedy, and my intuition tells me the opposite is also true."

I make a tremendous effort to put my neurons to work because the sensation of his touch is delicious. "Why not?"

"Something tells me that now that I've touched you, our lives will change forever."

"And do you always follow your intuition?"

"In some cases, yes."

"Will you follow it today?" I ask, and my voice comes out hoarse, a sensation I've never experienced before taking over my body as I feel his fingers entwining in my hair.

"No. Not today."

His other hand holds my jaw, and it's so large that it encompasses the entire left side of my face. I'm at the mercy of this man, trapped in him and by him, and I've never felt so good before.

I want to stay firm, not seem like a teenager enchanted by her first prince, but I can't help but close my eyes and wait for his kiss.

Hades

Past

I am a sinner by nature, and my favorite sin, without a doubt, is lust.

Although I don't get involved emotionally because I don't consider myself capable of going that far in a relationship, when I desire a woman, I don't stop until I extract the last drop of pleasure we can give each other.

Desire. That's the word I use to define when a woman catches my attention, but the tension that dominated my body the moment I touched Kennedy can't be described that way.

I found her beautiful when I saw her in the boardroom, scared in the hallway, and wet in the rain, but having Kennedy in my hands, touching her, brings me an inexplicable feeling of possession, a dark and territorial hunger for her.

As I bring our mouths closer, I know that what I told her a moment ago—that getting involved with each other is a mistake—is true, but I also know that this certainty won't stop me from having her.

The impulse that leads me to her is primitive, hungry.

Even in the darkness inside the car, I see her pink lips slightly parted, her eyes closed, having completely surrendered herself to me, the very image of temptation.

I hear the gasp of her breath, and as her eyes open in the last second before our mouths touch, I could swear I hear her heart echoing.

I let myself drown in her eyes.

I close the small distance between us, feeling her warmth against me. The softness of her skin under my hands, the delicacy of her body, her scent—everything acts like a kind of narcotic in my brain and senses.

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