In all the times she and Stephen had met, never once did she remember him looking at her with such a serious expression, or waiting to hear what she thought about anything. She wondered that she’d never before realized that.

Funny how one’s expectations at seventeen were so very small. Then, years later, those same expectations transformed into a list of required virtues so long that she sometimes feared the man she wanted to meet did not exist.

She didn’t want just passion, though that was part of it. She also wanted someone to talk to, someone who would listen, someone who would laugh with her and share himself the same way she wanted to share herself.

Devon reached across the space between them and drew his finger down her cheek. The touch left a trail of delicate fire that lit a heated pathway down her neck to her breast and beyond.

“What do you want, Kat? Because whatever it is, so long as it is not marriage, I will give it to you.”

She tilted her head to one side. “Why do you hate the thought of marriage so much?”

His humor faded. “Because…” A shadow crossed his eyes. “I have a confession to make. It is not a pretty one, and you may never again wish to speak to me.”

She waited, unwilling even to speculate on what he might say.

“Kat, as much as I wish it was otherwise, I cannot seem to remain…enamored of a woman for more than two months.”

“Two months?”

He winced. “It sounds bad even to my own ears, so I cannot imagine how horrid it sounds to yours. I cannot help it; I grow bored after a short time, so I know I can never marry. I will not make a promise I know I cannot keep.”

Kat nodded. “That is how it should be. You are very honorable.”

His lips twisted. “Kat, I will not pretend I am not attracted to you—I am and you know it. And I will not pretend I do not wish for a more physical relationship than we have now. Honestly, I would give up Thunder just to spend one hour in a bed with you and nothing between us but tangled sheets and the dampness of our own bodies.”

A delicious shiver tremored through her. He was so delectable, his gaze so blue, so intense. Better yet, honesty shone through him. For an instant, she thought she could see the truth shimmering over him like a light.

He raked a hand through his wet hair again, and she saw that his hand trembled the slightest bit.

“This is foolish,” he said with a rueful smile. “I am ruining my chances with you, but I refuse to be less than truthful.” He took her hand. “Kat, I don’t know what happened in Edinburgh, but—”

“You should know.”

“No. That is not necessary—”