Alex couldn’t remember a time when he’d been so angry, so aroused, so full of contradictory emotions. He wanted to strangle the deceitful little wretch for proving his suspicions correct, to punish her for doing something so utterly foolish as to get herself caught like this, by him.
He was honor bound to turn her in—she was a criminal, one who’d stolen thousands of pounds’ worth of property that wasn’t hers. So why in God’s name was he feeling guilty for tricking her? For winning? Why this ridiculous urge to protect her from the obvious outcome of her capture—death by hanging, or at the very least banishment to the colonies, which was tantamount to the same thing, only slower?
And where had the suggestion that she use her body to influence him come from? The words had been out of his mouth before his brain had even been consulted. Had he been testing her? He told himself it had been to shock her, to goad a reaction, because he’d never be swayed in that way. Except he wanted her so badly, he might actually have been tempted to break his own strict moral code and let her escape. Christ, what was the matter with him?
He would have been furious if she’d even looked like she was considering it, but maybe it would have been better if she had. If she’d tried to seduce him, his disillusionment would have been complete. He could have been disgusted with her, instead of grudgingly impressed by her integrity, even now, when she’d proved a liar and a thief.
Bloody hell.
Alex glared down at her. How could someone look both guilty and innocent at the same time?
He touched his thumb to her lower lip and a savage feeling swept over him, a primitive need to vanquish, to conquer. He wanted to devour her, to possess all that spirit and defiance, to burn her up in the force of his desire. Bloody woman. She drew him against his will. Against his better judgment. What the hell was he going to do with her?
He kissed her.
Heat sparked the moment his lips touched hers. He hadn’t meant to do it—he was sure he hadn’t—but kissing her suddenly seemed like the most sensible thing in the world. The most necessary thing. He’d caught her. He couldn’t let her escape. Kissing her senseless was the perfect way to stop that from happening. There. He could still think logically.
Alex closed his eyes and embraced the darkness. Her lips opened under his—so soft, so sweet—and he swept his tongue inside her mouth with a groan of bliss. Deprived of sight, he savored every other sensation: the softness of her skin, the addictive scent of her, the little gasp she made against his mouth.
Bloody woman.
Emmy could barely make sense of what was happening. Why was Harland kissing her? Was this punishment? It didn’t feel like punishment. It felt wonderful—which in itself was so wrong as to be laughable. His tongue delved into her mouth and tangled with her own, and she grasped the edge of the table to stop herself from throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him closer.
He murmured her name between kisses and a quiver started deep inside. Heat bloomed and spread. This was a mistake. A dreadful, glorious mistake.
A fatalistic recklessness swept over her. She was about to lose her freedom, maybe even her life. This was her last chance to grasp a moment of happiness. If she told Harland to stop, he would. He was enough of a gentleman that he would listen if she made an objection. But she didn’t want to object. For once she was going to reach for something—someone—she desired for herself. Even if he was the author of her downfall, Alexander Harland could give her one of the highlights of her life.
“Wait!” she gasped.
He stilled, instantly suspicious, and pulled back.
Emmy leaned sideways and extinguished the lamp.
He cursed the sudden darkness and made a grab for her, presumably thinking she was about to try to escape. He caught her upper arms in a fierce grip, and Emmy laughed in sheer elation.
Oh, yes.
She threw herself against him, full-length, flinging her arms around his shoulders and tugging his head down. He staggered backward, caught by surprise, then grunted as she pressed her lips to his. For a moment, he stilled, and she thought he would push her away—then with a growl deep in his throat, he picked her up, anchoring her to him with his hands at the back of her thighs.
The room spun in the darkness. Emmy wrapped her breeches-clad legs around his hips and clung to him, crossing her ankles behind his back. He crushed her into his chest as their lips met in a kiss that burned right down to her toes.
She was Icarus, flying too close to the sun, Persephone being dragged down into the underworld. She didn’t care. This might be a disaster, but it was a glorious, glittering, incendiary disaster. A crazy blur of seeking limbs and hot mouths in the dark.
“You’re a liar,” he panted against her lips. “And a thief.”
She couldn’t deny it. She tightened her fingers in his hair.
His teeth caught her lower lip and tugged. “I want you more than anyone I’ve ever met.”
Emmy rewarded his admission with another long, desperate kiss.
His fingers tightened on the back of her thighs. “I want to be inside you. I want to fuck you all night.”
Delicious filthy words in her ear. This was the Harland she’d wanted to find, lawless, uncivilized. Free. “Yes,” she said fiercely.
He stilled and raised his head. She could barely see him, just the faintest outline, but she knew she’d surprised him.
“Yes,” she repeated, more forcefully. “And not to make you release me. This has nothing to do with that. This is just you and me.”
She had no hope of clemency. No expectation of anything but pleasure. It was just that she’d finally found someone she could trust with her body, if not her secrets. Harland wouldn’t hurt her, however much she teased and tormented him. If this truly was her last night of freedom, then she would spend it well. She would burn up in the brightness. She’d go out in a ball of flame.
His arms tightened, squeezing her ribs. She could feel his labored breathing, the rapid rise and fall of his chest against hers. He seemed to be waging an internal war; no doubt his sense of what was proper police procedure was battling with the iron-hard arousal she could feel pressing against her stomach.
She wanted desire to win. Needed it to win. Her entire body was glowing, fizzing with anticipation.
“Take off your clothes,” she said.