His mouth parted and his tongue slipped past her lips to twine with hers, stroking and rubbing until she was gasping, desperate for air. It was thorough and intimate, a melding of breath and flesh, unlike anything she’d ever experienced. His mouth was inviting, soft—a sharp contrast to a body of sinew and muscle. She arched into him, straining, trying to get closer, trying to ease the ache building in her core.

Had she ever doubted his kissing abilities?

This was no young swell, with a few chin whiskers and an overzealous, sloppy tongue. No, this was a man, competent and strong. One who knew what he wanted and let nothing stand in his way. And right now he was kissing her with a single-minded thoroughness that stole her wits.

She lost track of time. It could have been minutes or hours. Days, even. Nothing existed but the two of them and the need to stay connected. When he lifted his head, she was clinging to him like a limpet, her chest heaving as if she’d swum the length of the East River. Her fingers were buried in his hair, which was silkier than it appeared. It took her a moment to reacquaint herself with reality.

“Have I proven myself?” His voice sounded harsh, deeper than normal.

“What?”

He leaned down and kissed the edge of her mouth. “You were uncertain of my kissing abilities. I hope I’ve cleared that up.”

“I—I think we may safely put that concern to rest.”

His rugged face filled her vision, his imposing features gentled after the kiss. She brought a hand to his cheek, helpless not to touch him. With a fingertip, she traced the scar through his brow. He inhaled sharply but said nothing as she stroked him. The raised skin was smooth, a testament to his perseverance. “How did you get this scar?”

“Fighting. There was a time when I would do almost anything for money.”

“Was this when you worked in your uncle’s saloon?”

“It was. So your answer is yes, then? You’ll sleep with me?”

The change of topic was not lost on her. This decision had to be made with a clear head, so she dragged in a lungful of air and stepped back. “When? Now?”

“No, not necessarily.” He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “Whenever you like. Tonight, tomorrow. The offer is open.”

“Oh.”

He cocked his head and studied her. “I cannot tell whether you are relieved or disappointed.”

“I’m not certain myself.”

“I had many decisions taken away from me as a child. I don’t like to cajole or force others into doing what I want. It’s better if everyone agrees on a course of action.”

“Then no one may complain later on.”

“That’s right,” he said with a nod. “Balance. An eye for an eye.”