Page 35 of Along Came a Rogue

She tilted back her head to give him access to her throat. “God, I hope not!”

He laughed as his lips captured hers, and she drank in the sound. Hot, forceful, and insistent, his mouth blistered as it took possession of hers. He kissed her as if he couldn’t get enough of her, couldn’t taste her deeply enough, couldn’t kiss her thoroughly enough—with a low groan, he shoved his tongue between her lips and plundered her mouth until he left her frantic to have his hands all over her body.

She shamelessly opened her thighs in invitation to touch her there, the one place he’d yet to explore, the place that ached so desperately for him that it left her panting and shaking with need. “Grey, please.”

Another groan tore from him, this time of frustration as he pulled away from her.

“I can’t.” He rocked back onto his heels and stood unsteadily, running a shaking hand through his damp hair. “I should never have let it get this far—Christ!”

As he looked down at her, she saw the battle raging inside him, the raw desire for her warring with his control. “Yes,” she urged, desperately wanting his touch, “you can. I want you to.”

He rasped out hoarsely with a regretful shake of his head, “We’ve already been through this, Mrs. Crenshaw.”

“Emily,” she insisted, cringing at her married name. She sickened to hear it when his hands and mouth had been on her only moments ago. “I’m just Emily.”

“No.” He gave a short, bitter laugh. “You’re not.”

“Because of Andrew? If that’s what stopping you…” Drawing a deep breath for strength, hoping he would understand, she admitted, “I didn’t love him.”

His eyes flickered down disbelievingly toward her belly, and her hand reflexively covered the bump, which was barely visible beneath the water.

“I wanted a baby. He was my husband, and I—” Her voice choked. “But I never loved him, not like a wife should. And he certainly never loved me.”

Slowly, she rose from the tub and stood, letting the droplets of warm water rain down her naked body. Goose bumps dotted her skin, not from the cold air but from the nearness of him, even now wanting him so badly she shook with it.

But the stubborn man refused to touch her. His fists clenched at his sides to physically restrain himself from reaching for her, and his eyes determinedly fixed on her face as if it would shatter him to glance down at her body.

Aching harder with each passing heartbeat that he kept himself from her, she whispered, “Touch me, Nathaniel.”

He didn’t move, yet his eyes filled with a hungry heat at her plea. “I shouldn’t.”

“But you want to.”

The single word tore in a rasping groan from his throat. “Desperately.”

“Good.” Unable to endure the lack of contact with him a moment more, she touched his cheek. The stubble of his two-day beard scratched beneath her fingertips, and he inhaled sharply through gritted teeth as if her touch pained him. “So do I.”

“Damnation!” Knocking her hand away, he grabbed her shoulders. “What you’re asking of me—I have to stay away from you. Can’t you see that?” Despite his words, his hands tightened their grip, and she felt him shift her closer, felt the heat of his bare chest next to hers, so close but not yet touching. “I’m a rake, Emily, a perfect scoundrel—”

“Stop saying that! You are not.” Tears of angry frustration blurred his handsome face. “Not to me.”

He shook his head. “I use women, Emily, and you don’t deserve that. Because that’s what it would be—only physical, no matter how much we both enjoyed it.” A soft groan tore from him as he dropped his gaze to roam lasciviously down her front, leaving her trembling and aching even harder for him. “And I suspect I would very much enjoy it,” he murmured, and the deep purr of his words fell through her like liquid fire. He tore his eyes back up to hers. “But you deserve a man who will marry you, give you a home, a family—I can’t give you that.”

“I don’t want that.” Not anymore. Once, she’d dreamed of having exactly that, only to discover that the price of her dream was too dear. Now she wanted only this moment, this night…this man. When she leaned forward and placed a kiss in the middle of his bare chest, his entire body stiffened. “All I want is you. You, Grey, for however long I can have you, in whatever way.”

“Emily.” His husky voice cracked. She knew his resolve was melting, knew from the way his hands now curled over her shoulders to draw her near rather than push her away that he was breaking.

Her lips whispered kisses across the planes of his chest to his shoulder. “You said in the carriage that I was your perfect woman.”

“You are,” he bit out grudgingly. His hands slid down to her back, and his arms tightened around her despite his determination to refuse her.

“Then let me be perfect for you tonight.” She touched her lips to his and shivered at the need she tasted in him. She’d waited years for this night, and she refused to wait any longer.

“And the baby?” His conflicted desire to both protect her and ravish her showed in his frustrated grimace. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her heart skittered deliriously at his concern. Smiling joyously against the sting of tears, she whispered, “You won’t.”

With a groan of surrender, his hand swept down her body, then up between her thighs to capture her folds against his palm. The swiftness of his touch ripped her breath away.