The Soldier's Dark Secret

He had never wanted any woman this much. His erection pressed into her belly. He slid his hand inside the neckline of her gown to envelop the fullness of her breast. When he touched the hard peak of her nipple she cried out, the distinctive sound of a woman on the verge of a climax. He felt the answering tingling in the tip of his shaft that precluded his own. Shocked, he pulled himself free, hazily aware that she was pushing him away.

What the hell? It was no consolation at all to see his own question reflected in her face. He couldn’t think of a damned thing to say. He could, unfortunately, think of a hundred things he wanted to do. Needed to do. Urgently. Jack swore long and hard under his breath. Breathe. Don’t think about it. But he couldn’t take his eyes of her. She hadn’t moved. Head and shoulders against the wall. Eyes closed. Breathing slowly. Measured breaths like his. Hands curled into fists like his. Cheeks flushed with desire, no doubt as his were. That long tendril of hair lying across her breast. He reached for it, caught himself, took a step back and tumbled against the leg of a table.

Celeste opened her eyes. Jack pushed his hair back from his face. They stared at each other for a long moment. Then she stood up, tucked the strand of hair behind her ears, straightened her shoulders. ‘Bien,at least now we know that it was not a product of circumstances, that kiss in the Topiary Garden.’ Her voice was shaky, but she made no attempt to avoid his gaze.

‘The one you insisted was just a kiss,’ he said.

‘As I recall, you agreed with me.’

‘Because I thought I had exaggerated its effect on me.’

‘And what about this time?’

He shook his head. ‘No. It would not be possible to exaggerate how that just felt. Frankly, it was almost too much.’

‘For both of us,’ Celeste said wryly.

Would another woman have denied it? It didn’t matter. What mattered was that she did not. It made his own instinct to pretend nothing had happened, or to pretend nothing so—so— No, he would not try to quantify it, and he would not try to deny it. ‘Do you regret it?’ Jack asked as he self-consciously tucked his shirt back into his pantaloons.