“Come to me,” he said, his arm at his side, his smile warm. He wasn’t pulling her, pressuring her, reaching for her, just sitting and inviting her to come to him.

Elise’s legs moved of their own accord. She should have shaken her head and brushed off his advances, but she was being drawn to him like a bee to pollen. She wanted this. She wanted to have something just for her, something to feel good about. Something to make her forget everything else.

Her steps were hesitant, her eyes avoiding his as if somehow she’d lose all her confidence if she looked at him, truly looked at him.

But suddenly she was there, in front of him, breathing heavily, as he opened his legs slightly, giving her room to walk into him. Harry slowly lifted a hand, palm open, fingers outstretched, and her own palm fitted against his like a glove, skin alive to his touch, craving more.

He was everything she’d ever wanted and nothing like she’d imagined all at once. He wasn’t a French man from a nice family within a day’s travel of her home, not someone she’d been able to swoon over and whisper about to her mama and sister. But he was a good man, a brave man, a soldier who’d seen so much and could still be so gentle to her, a soldier who might be from another country but who seemed to understand her like no other man had before.

“I don’t want to leave here, on that boat,” he whispered as he slowly pulled her closer, his breath warm against her cheek. “I know it’s crazy, but I want to stay. With you.”

She shut her eyes, breathing in the scent of him. “It is crazy. You can’t.”

“But what if I did?”

She answered his question the only way she knew how: with a kiss. Her lips seemed to know what they were doing, parting and pressing against his, moving slowly at first and then faster, hungrily, as her arms lifted and looped around his neck.

Harry’s fingers were in her hair, stroking, as he kissed her back.

“Should we go upstairs?” he asked, huskily, against her skin, as his mouth left hers and pressed against her neck, all the way down to her collarbone until a hiss of pleasure escaped her lips.

Elise came crashing back to reality then, realizing how easily she’d fallen into his arms, how willingly she’d kissed him with so little encouragement. But staring at Harry, at those eyes that seemed to see her for who she was, she knew her answer was yes.

She glanced at the dishes on the table and, for the first time in her life, thought to hell with it.

One night I get to do something for me, something reckless, something forbidden.

“Yes,” she whispered, taking his hand again and tugging gently.