Free 0425272095 (R) by Jessica Peterson

would make an Englishman blush, or die, or both.
    God, but her lips were soft. Yielding. Her mouth tasted sweet, like wine, and clean. She allowed him to open her lips with the gentle press of his own; he groaned aloud, eyes rolling to the back of his head.
    He dug his fingers into her hair, his thumbs hooked beneath her chin. He moved her head against his kiss, tilting her to the right, then to the left, taking her bottom lip between his teeth.
    Henry took and she gave, willingly, meeting him stroke for stroke. She was falling into his caress; he could feel her sway beneath him.
    The wildness that ran hot just beneath his skin—he struggled to control it.
    And then, in the next instant, he couldn’t.
    He stepped forward, wanting to feel more of her against him; instead he managed to push her, hard, into the bureau.
    Caroline cried out against his mouth, a pitiful sound that made his heart twist inside his chest. At once he fell away, holding up his hands.
    “Oh—oh, Car—my lady, I didn’t mean— Are you all right?”
    She was weeping again, tears streaming from the corners of her closed eyes. Her bottom lip wobbled as she struggled to catch her breath.
    Christ, what had he done? He was a pig, a randy, rutting pig, and a vile bastard, too. He was thirty bloody years old; he should have learned to control his baser impulses by now.
    Henry had done enough damage. He could not bear the thought that he’d hurt her yet again.
    “Please,” he begged, desperate.
    She opened her eyes; they were sharp with pain. He couldn’t help himself; he reached for her. She froze.
    “Don’t,” she said, her voice thick with tears.
    “But I—”
    Anger flashed in her eyes. “Don’t.” And then: “Take me home. Please, Henry, take me home.”
    He looked at her. “I’m sorry.”
    She looked back. A beat passed between them. She reached out, and brought her hand down, hard, on the side of his face.
    His ears rung at the force of her blow; his skin stung as he blinked, stunned, holding the offended cheek in his hand.
    For the first time in his life, Henry didn’t know quite what to say.
    Caroline looked away, her chest rising and falling; and then, quickly, she made to move past him. He reached out and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her against him.
    “Don’t touch me,” she said, fighting his grip.
    He gritted his teeth. “I’ll not allow you to walk home unescorted. It’s dark, and those blasted thieves are on the loose.”
    “I don’t want you to escort me. My brother lives three streets over, I’ll be fine—”
    “No.”
    “No?” She drew back. “Don’t think I won’t slap you again.”
    He met her eyes. “But you won’t.”
    She hesitated. Tears streamed down the sides of her face as she closed her eyes, shaking her head.
    “Why are you here?” Her voice broke. “Why have you come?”
    His grip loosened on her arm. “Business. I’m here on business. I would’ve never—”
    She scoffed. “ Business . Of course.”
    “I’d tell you more if I could.”
    She tore her arm from his grasp, backing away. “I don’t want to know more.”
    “What do you want?” he said, softly.
    Caroline met his eyes. “I want you to take me home. And then I want you to stay away from me, for good.”
    “All right.” He licked his lips.
    “I thought you were dead,” she said, swiping her cheek with the heel of her hand. “Sometimes I even wished you were dead. That made it hurt a little less. I couldn’t stand the thought of you being alive anywhere else but with me. I never heard from you, nor did anyone else. The way you disappeared after taking all that I had to give—the grief, Henry, you cannot know the grief I have suffered. And now, to know that you’ve been alive all this time . . .”
    I know, Caroline,he wished to say. I know the weight of your grief, for I have carried it as my own these past twelve years .
    “I thought you were dead,” she repeated. “Then you appear out of the ether,