But now—emotion was gone. Her body had taken over, fueled by a need she’d only barely tasted before now. It was as if she’d been gripped from within. Something was tensing, twisting. It was deep inside of her, in places she’d never discussed, never even acknowledged.

And he—Thomas—only made it worse.

And better.

No, worse.

“Please,” she begged, wishing she knew what she was asking for. Then she moaned, because he was making it better again. His lips were on her throat, and his hands were everywhere—in her hair, stroking her back, cupping her bottom.

She wanted him closer. Most of all, she wanted more. She wanted his heat, his strength. She wanted his skin, burning against hers. She wanted to arch her back, to spread her legs.

She wanted to move. In ways she’d never dreamed possible.

Squirming in his embrace, she tried to shrug off her coat, but it only made it to the crook of her elbows before he groaned, “You’ll be cold.”

She struggled to free her right arm from its sleeve. “You can keep me warm.”

He pulled back, just enough so she could see his haggard expression. “Amelia…”

She heard the old Thomas in his voice. The one who always did the right thing. “Don’t stop,” she begged him. “Not tonight.”

Thomas took her face in his hands, holding her so their noses were a few inches apart. His eyes caught hers, tortured and bleak. “I don’t want to,” he said, his voice ragged.

But I have to.

They both knew what he’d left unspoken.

“I…I can’t…” He stopped, taking a shuddering breath as he forced himself to step back. “I can’t…do something…that will…” He was choosing his words carefully. Either that or he could not manage normal rational thought. “If I do this…Amelia…” He raked his hand through his hair, his nails biting into his scalp. He wanted the pain. Right now he needed it. Something, anything, that might ground him, keep him from falling apart.

From losing the last bit of himself.

“I can’t do something that will decide your future,” he made himself say. He looked up, half hoping she’d turned away, but no, there she was, staring at him, her eyes wide, her lips parted. He could see her breath in the damp night, each puff whispering through the air.

It was torture. His body was screaming for her. His mind…

His heart.

No.

He did not love her. He could not love her. There could be no god so cruel as to inflict this upon him.

He forced himself to breathe. It was not easy, especially when his eyes slid from her face…lower…along her neck…

The small tie at the bodice of her nightgown was partially undone.