Page 59 of Redemption for the Baron

She shivered, though not from the cold.

His hand lifted to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing the curve of her lips, swollen from his kiss. “I want you.” The admission was hoarse, stripped bare of pretense. “But not like this. Not here. Not now.”

There was more he could not say, truths that lived behind his eyes, truths he feared would undo everything. But not tonight. Not while her trust still shone in the moonlight. Not until he found the courage to face what came next.

Bridget hadn’t been prepared for this. For him.

For the way her body answered his touch, for the way his lips moved against hers with a purpose that set fire to every nerve in her body. The sea air was sharp and cool against her skin, but his warmth wrapped around her, sinking beneath her defenses as if he had always belonged there.

Thomas wasn’t holding back this time.

His hands skimmed the curve of her waist, his grip firm, possessive. She felt the raw power in him, the restraint slowly unraveling as she pressed closer, threading her fingers into the dark waves of his hair.

A low sound rumbled in his throat as he tilted her chin, deepening the kiss, as if trying to brand her with it, as if he had already accepted that there was no undoing this.

She gasped against his mouth as his hands skated over her ribs, sending tremors of heat through her. Her eyes fluttered closed, and for an instant, there was no grief, no guilt. There was only the undeniable truth of his touch and what it awakened in her. It was as though a dam had broken inside her, releasing everything she’d tried to hold back. His thumbs teased the sensitive skin just below her corset’s edge, drawing another breathless sound from her lips. Her pulse pounded, a slow, insistent thrum of awareness that had nothing to do with fear.

This wasn’t a stolen moment in the dark. This was something more.

She pressed against him, the need spiraling inside her, her mind unable to think past the sensation of him. Every kiss, every touch, every shift of his body sent a new rush of heat through her.

The moment hung between them, taut and breathless, until he stilled, control overtaking desire in a heartbeat.

His breath was uneven, his grip still tight at her waist, but his muscles tensed beneath her touch. A battle waged behind his eyes, one she had no doubt was taking every ounce of his control.

His thumb brushed the hollow of her throat, lingering there for just a moment, feeling the rapid beat of her pulse.

He swallowed hard. “Bridget…”

Her name was a warning, a plea, a promise all at once.

She could feel the way his body strained against the pull of logic, the way he wanted her, the way he was fighting it.

Slowly, he pulled back, just enough to break the spell.

She exhaled sharply, her body still singing with the remnants of his touch. “You regret this,” she whispered, barely able to find her voice.

His hand cupped her cheek, his touch gentle but unyielding. “Never.”

Her breath caught, but before she could speak, he leaned in, pressing one last kiss to the corner of her lips, soft, reverent, a promise of what would come.

Then, with great effort, he stepped away.

“We can’t,” he murmured, raking a hand through his hair. “Not here. Not now.”

She studied him in the moonlight, not hurt, not wounded, but knowing.

He wouldn’t always stop. And when that moment came… neither of them would hold back.

She swallowed, her body still thrumming with the remnants of pleasure, but she understood.

He was not rejecting her. He was protecting something between them, something fragile, something not yet spoken.

She nodded once, unable to speak, but he must have seen her acceptance, because the tension in his shoulders eased.

Still, he did not step away entirely. His fingers trailed down her arm, lingering at her wrist before his hand finally dropped to his side.

The sea whispered below, steady and unrelenting like the pull between them, impossible to ignore.

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