Her hair was an artful pile of loose curls. Elegant and beautiful even as he envisioned pulling it down, wrapping it around his hands. She’d applied makeup she rarely wore, making her eyelids shimmer and turning her long lashes into a darker sweep around golden-brown eyes he could get lost in. Just fall right into and never climb out.
A light brush of bronze accentuated high cheekbones, and those lips, well, she’d be reapplying lipstick because there was no way he wasn’t kissing her. “Come here.”
She shook her head and it finally registered through his lust-filled haze that those gorgeous red lips weren’t smiling.
“I can’t wear this. I thought I could.” She spoke quickly. “It’s beautiful, they all are, and you picked them out, but I can’t.”
The scars. Damn it. She was so exquisite in every way, he didn’t even think of them. But she would. “Follow me.” He took her by the hand and pulled her through the bedroom, past the bed covered in dresses.
They reached the bathroom and he turned her to face the mirror. “Look at yourself.” He skimmed his hands slowly up her arms until his palms cupped her slight shoulders. “You take my breath away.” And twisted him up like no other.
He had this insane urge to wrap her in silk, drape her with diamonds. Wanted to stand in front of her, shield her, protect her. He traced a finger lightly along her skin where the edge of her dress covered her breasts.
“So beautiful.” He raised his eyes to lock with hers, caught her hand, and brought it to his lips before she could argue. “And I will say it.” He gently traced a jagged purple line running from her left shoulder to elbow. “They’re a sign of your strength, your survival. They make you who you are. Which I happen to like very much.”
She broke their eye contact in the mirror. “Stephen—”
“Look at your eyes. This sexy mouth. People look at you and see an unbelievably gorgeous woman, and…” He smiled against her temple. “I’m going to be jealous as hell tonight when they do.” She finally smiled, and something stirred around his heart as he studied the picture they made together. “But…I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, or push you.”
With one arm still around her waist, he pulled a long piece of silk from a hanger on the back of the door. “The lady said it would go with any of the dresses and I’m an ass for not giving it to you sooner. Though I was told to hang it near a steamy shower.” He spread the shimmering length in front of him, draped it over her arms and shoulders, and met her eyes in the mirror once more. “And before we left, I wanted you to see what I see.”
—
If she took his breath away, Stephen knocked the air from her lungs to the point of suffocation. Always dark and powerful, he looked even more so now, cleanly shaven in a tux that showed off his size and strength. Tailored black pants fit his long, muscled legs. Stark white shirt stood out against his tan complexion. Besides that inexplicable thing a black tux does to a handsome man. Almost too much, too hot, until she nearly forgot herself. He did that. Made her forget. Pushed her, or maybe led her, to places she never thought she could go.
The trip, the hotel room, the party. The night that would come after. It was as if he had such an excess of confidence, it spilled over and onto her whenever he was near.
Even now his hand on her leg burned through the thin layer of fabric. His scent, faint and musky, stirred her. It felt a lot like a first date, and it was the first time they’d gone out together, arrived together. Would leave together. Apprehension and butterflies danced in her stomach.
He bent and pressed his lips to her bare shoulder. “You smell good.”
She shivered with his hot breath at her ear. “It’s shampoo.”
“And you.” With his hand at her waist, his mouth played wickedly around her ear, her shoulder, wherever he could find skin. “Have I told you how beautiful you are? How sweet?”
“Um…I think you…yes.” She was already breathing hard when he lightly bit then licked that hot spot where her neck met shoulder.
Stephen raised his head. “Damn. We’re here.”
She hadn’t even noticed, Stephen had so effectively kept her mind occupied. They passed through giant iron gates and the limo slowed.
“We’ll pick that up later,” he murmured against her ear and followed with another little bite as the driver opened the back door.
The old governor’s mansion, set yards back and on a hill, was lit up like a birthday cake in a dark room. Balconies and balustrades overlooked the surrounding landscape, and it seemed each shrub and tree had its own spotlight. Smaller lights stuck in the ground illuminated the wide brick walkway leading to the castle-like structure.
Stephen held her hand snugly in his as they walked toward three sets of ten or more steps with several yards of brick between each one. She didn’t make it past the first set before she stumbled.
“Okay?”
“Yes.” No. She was clumsy, awkward, and they were being passed by glamorous couples who were neither. Women in much taller, much spikier heels taking the wide steps with grace.
By the second tier of stairs the ache in her legs had turned to fire. Her right knee buckled on the first step. She gripped Stephen’s hand as his other arm caught her around the front.
“Damn shoes,” he muttered.
“I’m sorry.”
“No. I’m the one who’s sorry,” he said, bringing both arms around her. “I wasn’t thinking about your legs and the shoes—”