Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [112]
“It’s behind us now.”
Never, she thought with the same bitter realization that had chased after her for the better part of two decades. It’ll never be behind us. “You know, Thane, you don’t have to get involved.”
“Of course I do.” He rubbed his chin angrily. “I don’t have any choice.”
“The police won’t—”
“I’m not talking about the police, and you know it, Maggie.” In a heartbeat, he grabbed hold of her wrist. Strong fingers wrapped possessively around the small bones of her arm and pulled her so close that she could smell the pure male essence of him, see the pores in his skin, watch his blue eyes dilate until they were nearly black. “I always have been involved,” he said in a voice that was low and rough. “With you.”
Oh, God. She swallowed hard, met the questions in his eyes with those of her own. So much time had passed, so much anger, so much agony. She licked suddenly dry lips, and the pressure on her arm increased. The pads of his fingers were hot against the soft flesh on the inside of her wrist where her pulse was jumping wildly.
Be careful, Maggie, don’t read too much into his words. She’d heard his lies before. “You don’t have to say—”
“I know. I don’t have to say anything. But this is just you and me, Maggie. Alone. The way it should have been.”
Her heart screamed to believe him, to trust the words she so desperately wanted to hear, but she hadn’t spent the last eighteen years healing only to rip open the scars herself. “Don’t do this, Thane, not now.”
“Why not?” His gaze moved to her lips, and she had to fight to keep from staring at his mouth, at wondering what it would feel like to kiss him here, away from the world, in this intimate hotel room.
“I—I came here because you asked me, but I probably would have anyway, so…so, let’s not make more of this than there is, okay? We’ve been thrown together, true, but we should keep things in perspective. Just because I came here to help clear your name, you don’t owe me anything.”
“I didn’t think I did.” He stared into her eyes for a second, and she saw the clouds in his gray-blue gaze, the torment that only he understood. “This isn’t about obligation.”
“No?” she asked, refusing to focus on his mouth, which seemed suddenly so close.
“It’s about want.”
She swallowed hard, thought about stepping away, but didn’t. Her pulse, beneath his fingertips, was throbbing, her mind spinning in erotic circles that were dangerously seductive. Firelight flickered against the far wall and high ceiling.
She licked her lips again and his gaze caught the motion. “What is it you want, Thane?”
“What I always have.” He took her other hand, and the typewritten pages of Marquise’s life drifted to the carpet. “I want you, Maggie. I think I told you that before.”
“And…” Oh, God, she was getting lost in his enigmatic gaze. He was the devil, a demon sent to curse and vex her, a man whom she couldn’t resist but wouldn’t trust. He’d only bring heartache; only cause pain, and yet, when his head lowered and his lips found hers, just as before, she didn’t draw away, didn’t push him aside.
No, as his one hand held her wrists and the other wrapped around her shoulders, dragging her close, she didn’t resist. Caught in the wonder of his touch, the pressure of his tongue, the glory of the taste and smell of him, she relented, as easily as if she’d planned this seductive moment all of her life.
“Let me love you, Maggie,” he whispered against the side of her face, his breath tickling her ear, her skin prickling with anticipation.
The words should have cleared her mind. He’d never loved her, never would. What had existed between them was passion—raw and primal, sex in its purest, most animal form. She should have walked away, but didn’t. Instead she kissed him with all of the fever in her blood, with the vital and primitive