"Do you think that's a good idea?" Her voice was no more than a soft whisper, a caress that teased his cock into aching thickness.
"No." He knew better. He knew he'd be damned for all time. "But I'm going to kiss you anyway."
"It might be awful," she pointed out with a brief flare of optimism.
He had to smile. "Perhaps. We can only hope."
There was a small moment of hesitation. Her teeth sank into her lower lip, betraying her nerves. She nodded slowly, knowing just as he did, that it was a very bad idea. "Okay then."
He stared into her eyes for a long time. Forever would never be long enough for him to live there. Right there in her eyes. He saw inside of her, into something so beautiful it made his heart ache. She didn't move, didn't pull away, just absorbed him in the same way he needed to absorb her.
He was in no hurry. Craving rose like the sun, hot and bright and shocking. He wanted to savor this moment. Her acceptance of him. He felt her trembling--or maybe that was him. The great Stefan Prekenskii, seducer of women, trembling, needing.
Her tongue touched her bottom lip, her breasts rose and fell beneath that thin tee. Inexorably, he drew her another step closer to the heat of his body. She blinked, but didn't look away. Her scent enveloped him. The faint aroma, fresh and elusive, was a fragrance he expected he might encounter on an island paradise. Her hair fell over his arm, soft and unbelievably silky. Every detail burned into his mind, the individual strands that brushed his face as he bent slowly toward her. The flutter of those feathery lashes, her lips parting, the swift inhale.
His mouth settled on hers, the softest of touches. A slight brush only, just to savor that first feel of how soft her lips were--to test the strong magnetic pull between them. He should have known better--should have known it would never end there. He should have heeded all the warning signs--and there had been many. In one moment of honest clarity, he had known but it didn't matter. He wanted this and, once he'd touched her, there was no way to stop. Both of them were falling and it was too late to save them now that they'd made that first slight contact.
He pulled her across that breath of air separating them, tight, so that her body was imprinted on his, all that soft skin, the lush curves, his free hand sliding inevitably to that expanse of tempting bare skin. His fingertips bit into her waist, slid over her belly and caressed her hip as his mouth took hers.
The world around them burst into a fiery blaze. The heat soared until he could hear the roaring and crackling of flames. He'd inadvertently struck a match and lit a stick of dynamite. Her body melted against his while his heart roared in his ears and he lost himself completely in the beauty and wonder of her mouth. She tasted a little like an expensive champagne, going straight to his head and hitting him hard. She made him weak and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she belonged in his arms.
He couldn't stop kissing her, over and over until they both were out of breath and their bodies were on fire. He found that small golden chain and he tugged and rolled the gold between his fingers the way he needed to do to her nipples. He ached to touch her, to memorize her, to devour her inch by slow inch. He tried not to be rough, but his mouth had a mind of its own, each kiss feeding his hunger beyond endurance.
His hand left her nape, fist bunching her hair, pulling her head back, taking what was his. His. Men like him didn't have homes. They didn't own anything they couldn't walk away from in an instant. All the money he had acquired over the years by fair or foul means stayed in bank accounts no one knew about, never to be spent on the luxury of a home--or a woman.
Yet, this woman belonged to him--was made for him. He didn't know anything about her and yet he knew everything. He kissed his way to her chin and back up to the heat of her mouth. He couldn't resist her mouth and evidently she didn't have any more of a sense of self-preservation than he did because she opened to him instantly, feeding on his hunger, returning it tenfold.
Every cell in his body responded to her. Knew. He knew without a single doubt that she was born to be his. Kissing her only got better. His fist tightened, holding her still. A warning signal in the back of his mind brought him close enough to the surface to remind him Thomas Vincent would never kiss her with such confidence. He wouldn't grow rough and demanding. He would never be so aggressive. Stefan ruthlessly pushed the warning away and took her mouth, exploring, teasing, demanding. Sliding willingly into a deep abyss.
Lust rose like a volcano, winding itself through pure passion as his fingers stroked caresses over her bare midriff, absorbing all that soft skin. Heat rushed through his veins, setting up a terrible addiction he knew he would never be rid of. She tasted too good. Matched fire with fire. She needed the way he did. Her hands fisted in his hair and she gave herself to him, holding nothing back, feeding his need more, driving him past control.
Truth was the only thing that could have stopped him from taking what he knew belonged to him right there at the bottom of the steps of her home. She was a spirit element. The truth was there all along--he'd even suspected it, and right now they were in terrible trouble because her spirit enflamed his beyond all measure. Her desire and his together burned hot and wild, a firestorm out of control. Her element amplified every psychic gift he had and added to the heat and need rushing through him like a fireball.
He forced himself to pull back, not wanting to blow his chance with her--if he hadn't already. If he had this woman--and what the hell was he thinking--it would be forever. Everything with her was a first. That first kiss, first touch, first attempt at finding a discipline that wasn't ingrained or trained into him.
He rested his forehead against hers, drawing in a lungful of air. "I could spend a lifetime doing that with you." He rubbed the nape of her neck with strong fingers. "Are you okay?"
Her gaze clung to his--filled with desire, filled with sorrow. She touched her lips, swollen from his kisses, with trembling fingers. "I didn't know I could feel like that."
"Neither did I," he answered honestly. He drew another deep breath. "You're a spirit element, aren't you?"
Her gaze searched his. "You know about spirit elements?"
He nodded slowly, throwing caution to the wind. Maybe Thomas would know, maybe he wouldn't, but today was Stefan's day and Thomas could, quite frankly, go to hell.
"Then you see why this can never happen."
Everything he was, every merciless cell in his body rejected her assessment. There was no going back, both of them had crossed the line starting with that first brush of his mouth over hers. She had to know it, she just wasn't accepting it. His life was changed forever. He was a marked man, would be hunted the rest of his life, yet he would not turn his back on this. He didn't know how he would manage to keep them both alive on the run, but he wasn't going to leave her behind. Not now. Not after having a taste of humanity, of civilization, of finally realizing just how powerful human touch was.
He knew terror when he saw it. Over so many years in his job he'd come to know fear intimately. He could smell fear. See it. Almost taste it. He'd seen that look in the eyes of his prey, and he detested seeing such stark fear in her.
"I don't see at all, Judith."
He bent his head to the temptation of her trembling lips, needing to stop her fear any way that he could. She didn't resist or step back. If anything, she stepped closer, opening her mouth to his, her arms sliding around his neck, holding him close. There was nothing gentle about his kiss. He demanded her response, needed to know she was feeling the same heat, the same terrible hunger that refused to be sated by one or two or even a thousand kisses.
The way her hair fell over his arm, her body moving restlessly against his, the feel of her lips, and the hot, sweet taste of her made him a believer. She felt perfect just where she was. She might deny there could be a future, and if he had a brain in his head, he'd believe her, but she'd changed everything and she'd have to face the consequences, just as he did.
Again, it was Stefan who lifted his head and breathed
deeply to get control back. And that told him something else about Judith. Her spirit had already woven itself through his, and once let loose, it soared with the freedom, unwilling to be kept locked down so tight, under complete restricted control.
Intense training had ingrained in Stefan to use any tool to accomplish his mission. His mission had just become keeping this woman for himself and to make certain both of them stayed alive. If he was being truthful with himself, it was all about taking that look out of her eyes and replacing the fear and sadness with happiness--with him. The dawning knowledge that everything had shifted had him quickly reformulating plans. The emotions of a spirit element could be complex and difficult to control.
Stefan held her close against him, knowing she was confused by her own behavior. Her spirit element drove her, just as his gifts reached so quickly and confidently for her. He was at complete ease with every psychic talent he possessed, but Judith still fought hers, kept it under such tight control, that she was making herself sick. He was going to change all that. He just wasn't certain how he was going to do it yet.
His mouth brushed her ear, nuzzling the fall of black silk aside. "Are you going to show me your home?"
She pressed her lips together and shook her head. "Maybe later. I don't trust myself right now." She lifted her chin, her gaze finding his. "I know you don't understand. I'm saying one thing and doing another, but you're so . . ." She trailed off.
Sinfully tempting.
He heard her thought clearly in his mind. His left palm itched and he pressed it hard into her side, against her soft skin, against the temptation of that very sexy gold chain.
"Then you owe me a tractor ride."
Her eyes cleared, smiling at him. "I do, don't I?"
"I thought about it last night," he admitted, his hand slipping from the nape of her neck to slide down her arm, taking possession of her hand. "I could really be making a mistake. If I make a complete fool of myself and drive the thing into a tree, are you going to laugh at me?"
"Not only will I laugh," she admitted, "I will take a picture and send it to all of my sisters. They'll do a bit of laughing as well."
His heart jumped. The memory was dim, but her threat conjured up one of his few childhood memories, the laughter of his brothers filling their small apartment. For one wonderful moment he could almost smell his mother's perfume. Instantly the soles of his feet burned and throbbed with pain driving the remembrance to the back of his mind, replacing it with a little boy sobbing for his mother and brothers while a grim-faced man with cold eyes slammed a board over and over into the soles of his feet and ordered him to stop, to never mention them or think of them again--that they were dead to him. He shoved the memory away hard, slamming that door in his mind.
Judith made a single sound of alarm, her dark eyes leaping to meet his. She should have stepped away from him. His hands automatically went to her neck, fingers settling around her throat with so much deceptive gentleness. Anyone knowing personal information about his childhood was a risk to him. The training ingrained in him was strong and his first reaction was self-preservation. They stood in silence, her eyes on his. She didn't fight him. She didn't even move while her pulse beat hard beneath the threat of his fingers. She waited under the strength of his hands, her dark eyes trusting. Sympathetic even.
"Damn it, Judith. Don't you have any sense of self-preservation? Even a little bit?"
"What happened to you?" Judith pressed a hand to her heart, at the same time shifting her weight as if her feet suddenly hurt. "Tell me, Thomas. Your feet--you're in pain."
He had to be much more careful with her. She felt what others were feeling, just as her emotions could affect everyone she came into contact with--especially him.
He shook his head. "It was a long time ago. I don't know why I thought of that."
"Your mother's laughter? Brothers?"
"Long gone."
"You were adopted then? And then you lost that mother as well to an illness?"
The compassion in her tugged at him. It was a legitimate conclusion. His family dead and a little boy adopted out. He never stepped out of character, never stopped protecting Stefan Prakenskii, yet he'd opened Pandora's box the minute he was in her company. He forced himself to shrug while he shored up his defenses.
"What happened when you were a boy? This happened in Russia? Your mother is Russian? Were you in an orphanage and someone abused the children?"
That he could answer fairly honestly. "Something like that. It was a long time ago, Judith, and if you don't mind, I prefer not to think about it."
He stroked caresses over her very vulnerable neck and cursed himself for being such a monster. She was bright and shiny and thought herself dark and too dangerous to allow her emotions free rein, but she didn't really know what a true monster was.
Judith went up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his mouth. "Let's go drive the tractor."
His fingers tangled with hers, held on. The shocks just kept coming. Men like him thought in terms of weapons. One never tied up any weapon and his hands were lethal. This was the second time he'd done the impossible and worse, he didn't care. He wanted the contact with her.
He let her tug, taking him with her. She rocked him, rocked everything he had ever believed, turning things completely around. She moved like the wind, a fluid, graceful breath of air at his side, making him feel like a king. He felt her burst of happiness spread over and into him, amplifying his own mood and he allowed it, letting down his armor just enough to absorb her spirit deeper into him.
"I noticed a lot of fire equipment. Do you have to worry about forest fires?"
The farm was surrounded by acres of forest, a vast variety of tall trees, very healthy-looking, almost guardians circling the large farm, protecting it from outsiders. The flutter of wings was constant with the birds perching in the higher branches and then taking flight to circle above the farm, only to land again.
"Not really, but we like to be prepared for anything. We bought this farm together, my sisters and I, and we hope to stay here."
There was a tiny catch in her voice. He glanced at her as they walked along a small winding path through her enormous flower garden. Her expression was a little sad again and he felt her spirit take a dive, dread filling her and consequently him. There was trouble here, more than he'd brought with him.
"Why wouldn't you stay?"
She swept her hair back over her shoulder in that feminine way women had. The gesture suddenly seemed sexy, a call to pure temptation. He found himself looking at her neck, her profile, those long lashes and sensual mouth.
Judith broke into a smile. "Stop it. This time it's you, not me."
He grinned at her, amazed at the genuine emotions rushing through him along with the heat. "Sorry. You're damned beautiful, Judith. I'm really trying to be good now."
"Try harder," she admonished. "You're supposed to be helping me."
"Believe me, honey, I am helping. If I had my way . . ." He let the sentence travel off, watching the slow blush rise beneath her skin, giving her an alluring glow. "Distract me. Tell me why you think you might move from this little paradise you and your sisters have put together, because if I lived here, nothing would move me out."
Several crows called out loud, the distinctive caw-caw almost a reprimand. Tiny hummingbirds moved from flower to flower, small wings fanning the air so fast he could hear their sound as they buzzed around his head, dangerously close to his face. His shoulder brushed hers and he drew her a little closer, under the shelter of his shoulder. She was tall, but he was taller and it was natural enough to want to protect her from the darting birds.
She was silent for a long time as they wound their way through the flowers and shrubbery leading to the outer gardens. He noted that the various species of flowers were planted in thick rows of color, making up spectacular rainbows and rippling fields of vivid, brilliant color. The shorter stalks gave way to larger bushes, fields of rhododendrons of every hue. T
hey grew tall and wide, providing a shield around her inner gardens. Great trumpet trees of pink, white, red and gold provided another layer protecting the house. Butterflies were everywhere right along with the hummingbirds, vying for the sweet sticky nectar of the beckoning flowers.
He tightened his hand around hers, stopping her in the midst of the towering fountains of bursting color. "You don't have to tell me, but I can feel how upset you are. Maybe I can help."
Shoulders stiff, she stood in front of him, shaking her head, a small unreal smile on her face as she refused to look up at him. "We just met, Thomas. It's not like I know you well enough to dump my problems on you."
"You know me well enough. I see you, Judith, even the parts of you that you hide from the rest of the world, that you hide from your family. I recognize that you're a spirit element." He took a breath, stopped her on the path through the jungle of trumpet trees. "Was it a man who hurt you? You guard yourself so carefully, Judith. You let me hold you, I know you'd let me have sex with you, but you'd never let me make love to you. You don't want love. Was it another man?"
She blinked rapidly and his heart stood still. Tears were close, clogging her throat and burning behind her eyes. He felt them as surely as if he were about to weep. Her ghosts were very close, standing between them, holding him off, forcing him back away from her, silent wraiths making it impossible for him to have her.
Stefan was not afraid of ghosts, he had too many in his past to ever worry about the unseen apparitions that tried to haunt him, but they'd taken a tight grip on Judith and were refusing to relinquish their hold. She was going to be difficult, make it as hard for him as possible to be with her.
He wanted all of her. He was risking everything for her. His life. His peace of mind. That tiny piece of humanity he'd hidden from his trainers. There was nothing more than a slice, but it was there, real and the only part of Stefan Prakenskii left. He was handing that over to her keeping. He was going to put his real emotions on the line for her and he would not accept less from her. She was going to give him her soul in exchange for his. And damn it all, for once in his life, he was going to be that fucking white knight whether she thought she wanted it or not.
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