She didn't reply, but he felt her body growing warm and softening against him. Then he heard her sigh. It was a soft sound, barely audible, but it was sweet and it told him she wanted him. Maybe not the way he wanted her—hell, he doubted that was possible; he couldn't remember ever wanting a woman with this white-hot brand of need. But still, she wanted him. He was sure of it.

His lips found hers and he devoured her with all the fear and desire he'd been feeling all evening. She tasted like his every dream and felt like pure heaven.

And Blake knew he was damned.

He could never have her, never love her in the ways she deserved to be loved, but he was too selfish to let her go. Just for this moment he could—and would—pretend that he was hers, and she was his, and that his heart was whole.

They tumbled onto the sofa, Caroline landing softly on top of him, and he wasted no time in exchanging positions with her. He wanted to feel her squirming beneath him, writhing with the same force of desire that was consuming him. He wanted to watch her eyes as they darkened and smoldered with need.

His hands stole under the hem of her skirt, daringly squeezing her supple calf before sliding up to her soft thigh. She moaned beneath him, a delectable sound that might have been his name, or it might have just been a moan, but Blake didn't care. All he wanted was her.

All of her.

“God help me, Caroline,” he said, barely recognizing the sound of his own voice. “I need you. To-night. Right now. I need you.”

His hand went to the fastening of his breeches, moving frantically to free himself. He had to sit up to get them undone, though, and that was just enough time for her to look at him, to really look at him. And in that split second her haze of passion cleared and she lurched up off the sofa.

“No,” she gasped. “Not like this. Not without—No.”

Blake just watched her go, hating himself for coming at her like such an animal. But she surprised him by pausing at the door.

“Go,” he said hoarsely. If she didn't leave the room that instant, he knew he would go after her, and then there would be no escape.

“Will you be all right?”

He stared at her in shock. He had very nearly dishonored her. He would have taken her virginity without a backward glance. “Why are you asking?”

“Will you be all right?”

She wasn't going to leave without a response, so he nodded.

“Good. I'll see you tomorrow.”

And then she was gone.

Chapter 13

dith-er (noun). A state of tremulous excitement or apprehension; also, vacillation; a state of confusion.

Just a word from him sets me in a dither, and I vow I do not like it one bit.

—From the personal dictionary of Caroline Trent