“Ah, yes, and you magnanimously took it upon yourself to rescue me from my foolishness.”
“Someone had to.”
Her hand shot out to slap his cheek, but he caught her wrist easily. Victoria wrenched it from his grasp. “How dare you,” she hissed. “How dare you condescend to me? You say you love me, but you treat me like a child. You—”
He cut her off by clamping his hand down on her mouth. “You'll say something you regret.”
She stomped on his foot. Hard. He was trying to tell her what she wanted again, and she hated him for that.
“That is it!” he roared. “I have shown the patience of Job with you! I deserve a goddamn sainthood!” Before Victoria had a chance to react to his use of “goddamn” and “sainthood” in the same sentence, Robert picked her up and tossed her effortlessly onto the bed.
Victoria's mouth fell open. Then she started to slither off the mattress. Robert caught her ankle, though, and held firm. “Let go of me,” she ground out, grabbing the far end of the bed with her hands and trying to pull herself from his grasp. She wasn't successful. “Robert, if you do not let go of my ankle…”
The lout actually had the nerve to laugh. “What will you do, Victoria? Do tell.”
Seething with frustration and anger, Victoria stopped pulling and instead used her other foot to kick him soundly in the chest. Robert let out a grunt of pain and released his grip on her ankle, but before Victoria could scramble off the bed, he was on top of her, his weight pinning her against the mattress.
And he looked furious.
“Robert,” she began, trying to use a conciliatory tone.
He stared down at her, his eyes burning with something that wasn't quite desire, although there was a good deal of that, too. “Do you have any idea how I felt when I saw those two men pawing at you?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
Mutely she shook her head.
“I felt rage,” he said, his grip on her upper arms loosening into what could only be called a caress. “It was primitive, and it was hot, and it was pure.”
Victoria's eyes widened.
“Rage that they should touch you. Rage that they should frighten you.”
Her mouth went dry, and she realized that she was having a hard time taking her eyes off his lips.
“Do you know what else I felt?”
“No,” she replied, her voice merely a whisper.
“Fear.”
She brought her eyes up to his. “But you knew that I hadn't been injured.”
He let out a hollow chuckle. “Not that, Torie. Fear that you're going to keep on running, that you will never admit what you feel for me. Fear that you'll always hate me so much that you'll run into danger to avoid me.”
“I don't hate you.” The words slipped out before she realized that she had just contradicted everything she'd told him in the last twelve hours.
He touched her hair, then cradled her head with his strong hands. “Then why, Victoria?” he whispered. “Why?”
“I don't know. I wish I did. I just know that I can't be with you right now.”
His head lowered until they were nose to nose. Then his lips brushed up against hers, feather light and startlingly erotic. “Now? Or ever?”
She didn't answer. She couldn't answer, for his mouth had already taken fierce possession of hers. His tongue swooped into her mouth, tasting her with palpable hunger. His hips pressed gently into hers, reminding her of his desire. His hand ran up the length of her body and settled onto the curve of her breast. He kneaded and squeezed, the heat of his skin burning through the material of her dress. Victoria felt herself peaking beneath his touch.
“Do you know what I feel right now?” he whispered roughly.
She didn't answer.
“Desire.” His eyes gleamed. “I want you, Victoria. I want to finally make you mine.”
In a panic, Victoria realized that he was leaving the decision up to her. How easy it would be to let herself be swept up in the heat of the moment. How convenient to be able to tell herself the next day, Passion made me do it; I wasn't thinking clearly.
But Robert was forcing her to confront her feelings and to admit to the overwhelming desire that was racing through her body.
“You said you wanted to make your own decisions,” he whispered into her ear. His tongue delicately traced its outline. “I won't make this one for you.”
She let out a frustrated moan.
Robert trailed his hands down the length of her body, pausing ever so slightly at her gently rounded hips. He squeezed, and Victoria could feel the imprint of each and every one of his fingertips.