Page 56 of Her Scandalous Pursuit

She took his hand to lead him into the room and closed the door behind them. He should have objected to both, but he didn’t. It felt too good to have her hand in his once more.

Thisbe turned to face him, letting go of his hand. Desmond’s heart raced. He struggled to push aside the warring sensations within him. “Please, you have to understand. This is dangerous for you. You can’t—”

“Be with you?” She cut him off, then rendered him utterly speechless by stepping forward, taking his face in her hands and looking into his eyes. “Desmond...do you want me?”

Desmond let out a strangled noise.

“Do you want to be with me?” She stretched up to place a soft kiss on his lips. “To kiss me?”

His head whirled, her perfume filling his nostrils, her lips as soft, as delectable, as he remembered. He put his hands on her waist. To hold her away, he thought. “Of course,” he said. “That’s not the point.”

“I think it is.” She moved closer, so that her body was now only a centimeter away from his, almost touching him all the way up and down.

“Thisbe...” He spread out his fingers against her sides, his thumbs brushing tantalizingly close to the swell of her breasts. “You can’t.”

“I can.” She brushed her mouth against his again, her fingers sliding back into his hair, and a tremor ran through him. “I want to be with you.” Her voice was only a whisper; her breath caressed his cheek. “I miss you. I think about you until I think it will drive me mad.”

“Thisbe.” He closed his eyes. “I do, too.”

“Then it’s silly to be apart, isn’t it?”

He kissed her cheek; her skin was soft as velvet, and the little intake of her breath made his own catch in his throat. He bent to kiss her neck, then the white shoulder so temptingly close. His fingers pressed into her waist, carrying her that last little sliver closer so that her body was flush with his. His mind was a blank; he seemed incapable of saying anything except her name.

Slowly, his fingers slid up, his thumbs finding the curve of her breasts and following it. Thisbe made an odd soft sound, and he felt her body turn hotter beneath his hands. He lost all sanity then and kissed her. His mouth was hard and hungry, and his arms wrapped around her, crushing her into him.

He wanted to brush everything from the library table and lay her down on it, wanted to cover her body with his, feel her soft and welcoming beneath him. One arm still tightly around her, his other hand came up to cup her breast. He moved higher, his fingertips touching the lace trim of her neckline and then the amazingly soft skin of her breast. His thumb teased at the edge of the material, then slid beneath, moved under the cotton of her chemise. And there it was, the bud of her nipple, prickling beneath his touch. His mouth trailed down her neck and onto the expanse of her chest, her collarbone hard beneath her skin, moving downward. He barely suppressed a moan.

The door opened behind them, and Desmond jerked. He whipped around, pressing Thisbe against the wall, covering her from sight with his body. A slice of brighter light fell on the floor, and a disappointed voice said, “Just the library.” The door closed again.

Desmond let out a curse and swung away. “God.” He heaved in a breath, thrusting his hand back through his already disordered hair. What was he doing? “I’m sorry, Thisbe.”

“I’m not.” Thisbe’s voice was unsteady, but it throbbed with intensity. He could feel it all through him.

“You don’t understand. We cannot—”

“Why not?” There was a lash of anger in her voice now. “I don’t care about the danger. I don’t even believe in it.”

“You should.” He turned around to face her, hoping this four or five feet was a safe enough distance away. Clearly, his control when it came to Thisbe was almost nonexistent. His voice rasped, and he cleared his throat, struggling to pull himself into order.

“I don’t believe in curses, Desmond. Neither should you. It’s foolish, archaic.”

“It’s not just that.” He searched desperately for a way to convince her that wouldn’t make her despise him.

“Then what else is it?” she demanded, fists planted on her hips.

“You cannot trust Carson.”

“I thought he was your friend.”

“He is. He was. But where you’re concerned, it’s different. You cannot trust Wallace, either.”

Thisbe gaped at him. “You realize, don’t you, that you sound a little mad?”

“Think. Why would he invite you to this party?”

“He had to have an ulterior motive?” Thisbe’s eyes flashed. “He couldn’t have thought I deserved an invitation just as male scientists did? I noticed there were a number of them here tonight, including you.”

“It’s not that! You know I respect you as a scientist as well as a person. It’s just—” He clenched his jaw.