Free Call of the Wild Wind (Waterloo Heroes Book 2) by Sabrina York

as she could manage.
    He whirled around and scowled at her. “Nice?”
    “Very nice?”
    “It was a damn sight better than bluidy nice,” he snarled. Then he recalled himself. He straightened his shirt, which refused to be straightened, cleared his throat and said, “But we canna do that again.”
    She nodded, and fixed a pleasant expression on her face, though it cost her. “Of course not. I am betrothed, after all.”
    “You are.” His tone had the hint of a dirge to it.
    “So no more kissing.”
    “None whatsoever.”
    They stared at each other across the room. Britannia tried very hard to maintain her aplomb, though her entire body quivered with the strain. She wanted nothing more than to run to him, throw herself against him and take for herself more of the glory he had to offer.
    Tension stretched.
    Silence rippled.
    And then, in a rush, they both moved as one. As one. With the ferocity of an oncoming storm. Into each other’s arms.
     

Chapter Six
     
    He’d only wanted one more taste. One more delicious, dizzying kiss.
    He should have known better. Given her responsiveness and his raging desire, now slipped free of its bonds, he should have expected the conflagration that rose up between them.
    He knew he could not take her, but a kiss? A caress here or there? Surely there was no danger in this. In this, and nothing more.
    Ah, but therein lay the crux of the matter.
    He wanted more. Much, much more.
    A part of his brain registered the truth. He should stop. He should thrust her away and hie from this room, from her presence. But the thought made his soul howl, so he allowed himself to sink into the exchange once more. Her mouth was sweet and velvety soft. Her tongue was mischievous and inquisitive. She leaned into him with a fervor that made his rational brain fizzle and pop.
    Her father was a duke.
    Her brother was his best friend.
    But oh, when she cupped her hand to his nape and stroked him with her thumb, it sent delicious shivers through him and all such resistance faded.
    He should not let this go any further, but Charles was lost. Lost in her scent, her curves, her warmth.
    When her passion rose, and that gentle stroke became a rake of her nails over his skin, he shuddered. His body tightened. His pulse thrummed. Insanity loomed.
    She moaned his name. It whipped through him like a wild wind off the moors. With a start, he realized he was on the precipice. Teetering on the edge of a perilous cliff. This was coming far too close to the point of no return—for both of them.
    Aside from that, Britannia was an innocent. She did not understand all of the ramifications of their actions here, what continuing would mean for her and her life. Her hopes. Her dreams.
    If anyone was going to put an end to this, it had to be him.
    He could not seduce her.
    He could not take what he wanted, needed, craved.
    It would be wrong.
    Drawing in a deep and painful breath, he cupped her cheeks and eased back. She stared up at him with beautiful, damp, dewy eyes. Her lips were parted. Her expression was soft, welcoming.
    Oh, one more kiss.
    Just one— 
    But no.
    He could not. He suspected if he kissed her again, just one more time, he would not be strong enough to stop. He wanted her too much. He was man enough to admit such weakness. Man enough to protect her from her own desire…and his.
    “Britannia,” he said.
    “Charles.”
    He set his forehead to hers and gulped in another calming breath. “We canna.”
    He saw it there, in her eyes, when his words sank in. Her agreement. It slayed him, but he needed to be slayed. His dragon, at least. They could not continue along this path or all her decisions would be stripped from her.
    For if he took her tonight, or any other night, he would never let her go.
    If he took her tonight, it would force her hand. And while he dearly wanted to win her, he did not want her on those terms.
    So, as difficult as it was, he stepped away and gestured to the bed. “You sleep