Page 21 of Because You're Mine
“If you wanted the kiss,” he continued, “you would lift your chin higher…you would stand closer…” He fell silent as her arms slid around his neck, her small hand touching his nape.
He smelled of starched linen and sweat and sandalwood soap. Madeline had never known such an appetizing scent—it filled her with the impulse to bury her face against his throat, and breathe.
A mist of sweat had broken out on his forehead. “Maddy…” he said with obvious difficulty, “you don’t know what you’re asking for.”
Madeline curled her fingers against his chest, gripping his shirt. “Yes, I do.” Swallowing hard, she stood on her toes, straining to reach him. His self-control seemed to snap, and suddenly his head lowered, his lips pressing against hers.
His mouth was hard and warm, demanding things she didn’t know how to give. His arms closed around her, bands of solid muscle crushing her against his body. Gradually his mouth gentled, and he rubbed his lips over hers until they parted. His large hands closed around the back of her head, holding her steady for his skillful exploration. Nothing in her life had prepared her for this. All her ideas of poetry and romance burned to cinders, replaced by the solid reality of his body against hers.
She groped for his hair, the rumpled locks silken and thick beneath her fingers. The nape of his neck was as taut as a board as she clasped her palm over it. She was caught fast within his embrace, returning kiss for kiss, her heart thundering so hard that she thought she might faint. His mouth left hers, and she felt his lips slide down her throat, hungrily exploring the thin, vulnerable skin. Her legs wobbled beneath her, and she leaned against him for support.
He touched the firm curve of her breast, shaping with his hand until the soft peak tightened into a point beneath the fabric of her bodice.
“Oh…” She gasped and jerked backward, holding her own hand to her throbbing breast. Her eyes were wide in her flushed face, her lungs striving for air.
Logan dragged his sleeve over his damp forehead. His body was stiffly aroused, aching with his intense awareness of her. He wanted to reach for her again, bear her to the hard stage floor and take her right there. It was insane, impossible that he could be so obsessed with a naive girl when he’d taken his pleasure with some of the most desirable women in Europe. “Enough of this damned nonsense,” he muttered.
“Nonsense?” she repeated in pained confusion.
He prowled around her in a half-circle. “I’m thirty years old, Maddy. I’ve never been interested in girls your age, even when Iwasyour age.”
“You…don’t find me attractive?”
“Christ.” It was proof of her inexperience that she would ask such a question, when the buttons on his trousers were straining to contain his arousal. Logan stopped pacing and forced himself to look at her. “I find you attractive,” he said gruffly.
“Hell, I’d like to do things to you that—” He stopped and dragged his hand through his hair. “It’s a bad idea, Maddy. You couldn’t play the game as I like it to be played. And I would end up changing you. Hurting you.”
“I understand,” she said.
“No, you don’t. Which is why I’m going to try like hell to avoid you. I don’t need you on my conscience.”
“I don’t care about your conscience. All I want is for you to kiss me again.”
The bold statement hung in the air between them. Madeline was stunned that she had actually said it. Scott stared at her in disbelief, and then he turned away with a laughing groan. “It’s not going to happen. For my sake, if not yours.”
“Mr. Scott—”
“I won’t require your assistance in my office any longer. And I’d prefer that you stay away from rehearsals, although my partner may object.” He paused and added curtly, “Just do your best to keep out of my sight.”
Madeline was stunned by his callousness. The glow of passion faded from her body, leaving her cold and empty. How had everything gone wrong so quickly? Her mind swam with confusion. He had rejected her…he had said he wanted her, and yet…he had told her to stay away from him. “Mr. Scott—”
“Go on,” he said, gesturing for her to leave. “I came here to have a look at the set pieces. I don’t want your company.”
Had it not been for Mrs. Florence, Madeline would have sunk into melancholy. Instead, she was profoundly puzzled by the elderly woman’s interpretation of the scene. “I call that progress,” Mrs. Florence declared after being told of the day’s events. “You’ve almost got him on the hook, child. It shouldn’t be long until you reel him in.”
“Perhaps I haven’t explained well enough,” Madeline said, regarding her doubtfully. “Not only is Mr. Scottnoton the hook, he’s swimming as fast as possible in the opposite direction. He wants nothing to do with me.”
“Didn’t you listen to him, Maddy? He told you to stay away from him because your presence is too much temptation for him to withstand. That’s the best encouragement I can think of.”
“I suppose,” Madeline murmured. “It’s just that he seemed so verydefinite—”
“This is no time to falter,” Mrs. Florence assured her. “He’s weakening.” She picked up a book and extracted a slip of paper tucked between the pages. “This is for you, Maddy. If you are able, leave your job at the theater early tomorrow and go to this address.”
“Mrs. Bernard,” Madeline read the name aloud and looked at Mrs. Florence questioningly.
“One of my dear friends, who owns a shop on Regent Street. Mrs. Bernard isn’t the best dressmaker in London, but she’s far from the worst. I told her a little about you, and she assured me that she has a bolt of fabric here and there, not to mention some clothing samples, that can be made into a few attractive gowns for you. She won’t charge a shilling—one of her assistants will do the work as part of her training.”
“Oh, Mrs. Florence! You’re so kind. I wish I could find the words to thank you.…”
