“Do you know what I believe, Lettie?” he asked quietly. “I believe you deserve to be more than content. I believe you deserve to know the grandest passion and greatest happiness with a man who treats you like a queen and who views you as a partner.”

Her breath hitched at his impassioned tone. Because of his words.

Anthony let his hand fall. “And it would be a damned shame if you settled for…comfortable.”

Lettie tipped her head back, locking her eyes with his, and whispered, “You.”

For a moment, she thought she’d not spoken that thought aloud as she’d intended. For a moment, she thought it had existed only in her head and that he’d failed to hear her admission. Straightening her head, she spoke again, this time more loudly and clearly.

“I want a life with you, Anthony.”

He stilled, and a stream of emotions paraded through his eyes—shock, horror, and then something she could not name.

“Lettie,” he said roughly. Her name bore the trace of an entreaty. “We cannot.”

She shifted closer. “Why can’t we?”

And then, closing her eyes, she leaned up and kissed him.

His body tensed. Then, with a groan, he met her mouth.

Guiding her back, he lowered her upon the blanket, and she gripped his chest, dragging him down with her, over her.

“This is wrong,” he rasped between each kiss.

Lettie moaned. “It feels right.”

“And it should not happen.” His breathing was as harsh and hoarse as the words he spoke.

“It is happening.” She reveled in that reminder for herself as much as for him.

Anthony caught the hem of her skirt and tugged it higher, exposing her limbs.

The air kissed and caressed her skin, a balm of cool upon that heated flesh.

He ran his hand over her leg, lightly squeezing her calf and then working his exploration higher, and then higher, until he cupped her between the legs.

Lettie stilled, and then a gasp tumbled out as she reflexively closed her thighs around his hand.

“You are a siren, and I am lost,” he whispered as he gently made love to her mouth.

She whimpered, that ache at her core growing more desperate, almost painful, as he slipped a finger inside the opening of her drawers and caressed her there.

“Tell me to stop,” he begged, even as he trailed a path of kisses down her cheek and lower, his mouth finding and lightly suckling that place at her neck where her pulse thundered for him. Because of him.

Lettie met his pleading with an entreaty of her own. “Please do not.”

Because, if she could not have him, and he was determined that they should not have a future together, she’d at least have this.

As if he heard those thoughts and sought to cement them in this moment and her mind, he drew back slightly, and she silently cried out at the loss.