Page 58 of Tender Blackguard

“Hate me. Revile me.”

“I can’t.”

“You must,” he growled. “It’s the only way I’ll be able to convince myself to stay away from you.”

Lark tipped her head back and softly arched her spine. “I don’t want you to stay away.”

The sound that issued from his throat was raw and hungry. His arm tightened around her middle and his mouth opened against her throat. Shivers coursed through her at the first scrape of his teeth. A quiet moan slipped free and her knees went weak.

On her next breath, her turned her around. Now it was the wall pressed firmly to her back while the marquess remained hard and unforgiving in front of her. He still held one hand to the wall beside her head as he flattened his other hand to the wall as well.

She was effectively caged by him. By his need and the darkness inside him he didn’t even try to deny and the sensual draw she didn’t want to escape. She tipped her head back and looked into familiar features made hard by some silent torment. When she lifted her hand to the side of his face, she could feel the tension of his jaw against her palm.

With breathless care, she brushed her thumb across his lips and reveled in their smooth texture, firm, arching shape, and intimate warmth.

His brows lowered over his sparkling gaze as he parted his lips to nip at the pad of her thumb with his sharp teeth.

Her belly fluttered wildly, and she released a heavy, aching sigh into the space between them. The sound seemed to torment him even more. His expression grew so harsh it was nearly frightening. His body tensed and hardened against her while his fingers tightened around her wrist.

When she rose up to her toes, lifting her face to his, he stopped her with a low muttered, “Don’t.”

She stopped but didn’t retreat. Staring into eyes shadowed by the heavy weight of his brows, she asked simply, “Why not?”

His response was raw and tortured. “I don’t want to be like him.”

“You’re not,” she murmured desperately as she strained against him. Needing him.

He brought his hand to her nape, holding her in a tight grip as if he intended to keep her away from him. Instead, the action brought her mouth even closer to his.

She reveled in the subtle, dominating embrace as it kept his lips near hers and his hands on her body.

His tone lowered to a ragged growl. “I made you cry.”

When they’d been interrupted in the passage?

Gently but firmly, she whispered, “No, you didn’t. I was frustrated. And overwhelmed.” Holding his gaze, she confessed something she’d only recently acknowledged to herself. “I’ve survived on very little in my life, and most often it was won by tooth and nail. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t wanted more. That doesn’t mean I don’t understand what I’ve been missing. Do you think I’d have allowed any of what happened between us if it wasn’t exactly what I wanted? What I’ve been craving for so long?”

His grip tightened further. His eyes flashed with blue fire. Dangerous. Exciting. Arousing. “What have you been craving?”

“This,” she sighed. “You.”

His shook his head in denial. But his focus slid softly over her features to land intently on her lips. “You shouldn’t.” His voice was thick with pain and regret. “Mine is a dark soul, cursed and ruined before I was born.”

The desire in his eyes was fierce and unadulterated. But she also saw the pain he tried to hide. The condemnation. Not of her but of himself.

She wanted to deny what he said, but she knew he wouldn’t believe her. Not yet.

Lark shifted against him, sliding her hand from the side of his face into the satiny black hair at his nape. Bringing her mouth within a breath of his as she stared into his fierce blue eyes and whispered, “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

Something bright and dangerous flared in his gaze. Then his mouth covered hers and his tongue thrust past her teeth to steal her breath.

It was a kiss of fire and demand. Of surrender and darkest need.

Lark sunk into it, allowing her body to melt into his. Thoughts flew away, leaving behind the basest human need. The need for connection.

She could feel that same need in him. In the way his hand squeezed the back of her neck. In the way he released her wrist to grasp her skirts, lifting them until he could reach beneath and wrap his hand firmly around her upper thigh, just above the edge of her stocking where her skin was bare and warm.

Desperate to encourage him further, she lifted her leg and hooked it around his hip. He immediately grasped hard to the curve of her buttock. Using his body and the wall behind her, he lifted her until she could wrap both legs around him, opening herself to the pressure of his hips between her thighs. The second she felt his hardness pressing firmly to her soft, aching core, a shiver coursed through her body.

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