Page 71 of The Devil in Her Bed
“We are close, Chandler, I can feel it.” Her fingers curled against his chest, becoming fists. “You and I, we can put an end to this. Doesn’t that excite you? The thought of victory?” She traced the corrugated ripples of is ribs, eliciting a moan and a shudder of need.
She’d seen his body tonight, and it seemed to have ignited something in her.
He’d wondered what she’d thought of his desire, what she’d felt about his cock straining for her as he stood naked and proud. A stag ready to strike at any other who would seek to claim her as a mate. He would even have locked horns with Kenway. Right then and there. Consequences be damned.
What did she feel, now that she knew what her nearness did to his body?
Every fucking time.
He took her hands and pulled them off him, imprisoning them in his palms so he could think. “You cannot go back there tomorrow.”
She gave him a wry glance as she pulled her hands away, hiding them behind her. “Of course I can. Kenway is grooming me for the Triad. This is our in…”She retrieved the letter he’d thrown on the floor, giving him a view of how the silk of her pantaloons stretched over her backside.
He was still swallowing his tongue when she looked over and said, “Not to be unkind, but my infiltration into the Crimson Council is deeper than yours. I mean, you were little more than a party favor.” Flashing a roguish smile, she lifted the lid of the desk and put the paper in it.
“It can’t be you,” Chandler declared.
“Why not me?”
“Because you are…”
Her mild amusement turned to mutiny. “Because I’m a woman?”
“Stop saying that, Francesca, you have no idea…” Turning, he scored his scalp in frustration, ruining his hair once again. “You have no idea the ruthlessness of this man. The depths of depravity of which he is capable. I mean, he very likely killed everyone you love.”
She advanced on him, eyes narrowed into slits of viperous wrath. “Do you think I’ve forgotten that? You think you’re the only one who has sacrificed his entire life for this? Ihaveto go back. I have to. I hate them, Chandler. My hate is all I have, and I cannot make way for anything else until it is dealt with. If you cannot handle that, thenyoushould be the one to step away.”
An impotent frustration welled within him. He couldn’t force her to drop this… and he couldn’t stand the thought of her in danger. Reaching out, he drew a knuckle down the curve of her cheek. “After everything you saw tonight, are you not afraid?”
The jaw beneath his hand hardened. “Aren’t you?”
“Of course I am.” His answer seemed to startle her, and she blinked at him, mute for a blessed moment.
“Fear is the most primitive emotion,” he continued. “But as you know, hate must be learned. You have to experience it. Smell it. Taste it. And I know you have.” He stepped closer, framing her face with his hands. “My hate is stronger than my fear, Francesca. I’ve melded with it and I let it run through me like it is my own blood. But you don’t have to. I don’t want that for you.”
“This isn’t about whatyouwant.” She put her hands on his wrists but didn’t pull away. Suddenly her eyes were both bleak and unsure and for a moment, she looked incredibly young. And not at all like the girl she’d been.
“The Lord Chancellor…” Her breath hitched. “I thought he’d gotten off easily with that little show he did with the dagger. I thought…” She swallowed some strong emotion. “Did you see the hounds? I didn’t mean for him to die… not like that.”
He nodded. He’d seen it, and it had sickened him, despite his acrimony for the Lord Chancellor.
“This is what I’m talking about,” he said, heartened that he might be getting through to her. “It’s not too late, Francesca. I can get you out of this. I can help you—”
She surged forward, mashing her lips against his, her fingers dropping to his shirt, ripping at the buttons, clumsy with frenzy.
“No.” Chandler couldn’t believe he stopped her, but he did.
“You want to help me? Then take off your trousers.”
He wanted to.God, how he wanted to, but something in her frenzy caused him to pause.
Fear. He’d found it. He’d done what he’d come to do. He’d frightened her.
So why did he feel like such an absolute ass? For all the lies he lived, it was time he told some truths. “Do you want to know what I thought when I learned you might have lived?”
“That I was a liar.” The earnestness in her eyes was almost his undoing.
“I thought—I’d hoped—that perhaps you’d buried your past. And me along with it. I didn’t know if you were real. Maybe I didn’t want to know, because if you’d lived, if you were happy, then I could visit you whenever I felt like it. In my dreams. I thought that maybe, this was all worth it if you were happy.”
