Page 164 of Auctioned to the Cruel Highlander
Not his pain, then. Not his shoulder. Not even, in the deepest sense, his past repeating itself. The thing that mattered to him was that she had lived where another bride had not.
Ava’s breath caught.
He looked up at her, his gaze open and sincere.“It is very important to me that ye ken that. It didnae happen again. I would never forgive meself if something happened to ye.”
The words landed with such bluntness that they might have cut.
“I wish I could bring him back,” he continued, almost unaware of the effect his words had on her. “Only so I might kill him again for even making ye think ye were unsafe for a moment.”
A shiver went through her, and he felt it. She knew he felt it because his gaze dropped at once to her mouth and then returned to her eyes, dark and intent.
“Have I scared ye?” he asked.
Ava should have lied then, or softened, or looked away long enough to recover some sensible distance. But she had come too far for lies, and what moved through her was not fear alone. It was shock, yes, and the aftertaste of violence.
She shook her head. “Nay.”
The word came out quiet but true.
His eyes held hers for another beat, then he nodded. “Good.”
The silence after that seemed to pulse.
Ava did not know whether she leaned first or whether he did. She only knew that his hand slid from her wrist to the back of her neck, the touch removing the last thin thread holding her in one place. He drew her down the final inch and kissed her.
His fingers curled into her hair, while his other hand found her waist and pulled her in until the solid heat of his body was pressed against her, and she stopped trying to think of any reason why this should stop.
He tasted of wine and something else that was entirely him. She kissed him back with a desperation that made her breathless. Her hands found the front of his shirt, and she held on.
His lips moved against hers like a man who had decided and fully intended to see it through, and when his tongue brushed hers, she exhaled sharply and pressed closer still, her fingers twisting in his shirt.
Her back met the bedpost, even though she did not remember moving. His lips dragged from her mouth to the corner of it, then to the line of her jaw. The hand in her hair tipped her head back with a gentleness that was somehow worse than force would have been.
She felt his breath against her throat, warm and deliberate, and then his mouth found the curve of it.
Her eyes closed. Her grip on his shirt went slack. Every sensible thought she had gathered over the past hours dissolved entirely.
What in God’s name are ye doing?
CHAPTER 12
Ava remainedclose enough to feel the warmth of his mouth on hers when the knock came. The sound cut through the room with enough force to jolt them both out of their frenzy.
For one stunned moment, neither she nor Ciaran moved. The air between them was still thick from what had just happened, from the hand on her neck, from the breathless pull of that kiss and the dangerous, impossible fact that she had not wanted it to stop.
Her pulse had not yet settled. Her thoughts had scattered. All she knew was that she stood too close to him, that her lips tingled, and that the world beyond the door had returned before she was ready to face it.
The knock came again, and even more doses of reality rushed back with humiliating speed.
Ava stepped away first, though not far enough to cool the heat in her face. Ciaran straightened at once, and the change in him was swift enough to make her ache with fresh confusion.
The man who had just kissed her with such passion had retreated behind composure again, though not fully. She could still see something sharp beneath his eyes.
“Ye may enter,” he called, clearing his throat.
The door opened, and her father entered.
The air shifted at once.
