But Sylvie could handle it. Sylvie would want it. That’s where he’d been going wrong. He’d hidden behind the smooth, modern armor he wore all the time. He’d been polite, thinking he could tempt her with the easy things—money, comfort, power, and position.

Sylvie needed more. She needed to see the part of him no one else got to see, the one he denied ninety-nine percent of the time.

He reached up and gripped the nape of her neck, something primal flowing through him. “I wanted to give you a chance to see the world before I brought you into mine, before I made you my whole damn world, Sylvie.”

He didn’t care that he was soaking wet and she’d managed to get dry. All that mattered was his mouth on hers, her arms winding around him, that sigh that came from her right before he kissed her.

This was what he’d needed to do. He’d been careful around her, but she needed his honest emotion. He could give her this. He needed to give her this.

He devoured her mouth, no more of the careful, cautious kisses he’d given her every night of the last week. He wasn’t seducing this time. He was begging. He was asking for her warmth, for her to be the breath that could sustain him.

The kiss was wild and sweet, her lips opening for him, tongue sliding softly against his. She wasn’t merely offering for him to take her, but rather giving herself over to the experience, demanding he give every bit as much as he took.

When he felt her hand delve under his shirt, he knew he couldn’t stay out here. He leaned over and picked her up, hauling her easily into his arms.

Her face had that slightly dreamy look that always made him feel like he was ten feet tall, and her arms went around his neck. “You can’t keep carrying me around everywhere.”

He liked to do it because she always gasped and then her body softened, a Cheshire Cat grin coming over her face. She liked it when he carried her around. “I don’t see why not. You don’t weigh a thing.”

Her eyes widened, but so did her grin. “I certainly do. I’m not exactly tiny.”

She was compared to him, and she was the perfect weight. She was simply perfection in his eyes. “I’ll always carry you, Sylvie. I will definitely always carry you to bed.”

“I thought we were fighting.”

“And this feels like the best way to figure out who wins.” He rather thought they both would.