“You still can’t trust me,” he finished.
She nodded. In this, she knew Hobbs had won, and hated him for it. “When I look at you,” she whispered, “all I want to do is touch you. But what happened that night … I don’t know if I can ever forget it.” The deepest cut on his cheek had scabbed, and she knew it would scar. “For my part, I am sorry for what I did to you.”He stood, wincing at his wounds, and walked over to her. “We both made mistakes,” he said in that voice that made her heart stumble.She found the nerve to turn to him, gazing up into his face. “How can you still look at me like that when you know what I truly am?”His fingers grazed her cheeks, warming her chilled skin. “Dark knight, assassin—no matter what you are, I—”“Don’t.” She stepped back. “Don’t say it.”She couldn’t give him everything again—not now. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them. Even if she ever learned to forgive him for picking the king over Nehemi
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She strained her hands toward him, toward where he’d gone still between her legs. She needed him—now. In her hand or her body, she didn’t care.But Vincent only pulled away. Pulled up, and knelt before her. Surveyed her spread beneath him, her nightgown a bunch of silk around her middle, everything else bared to him. His own feast to devour.“I owe you a debt,” he said in that guttural voice that made her writhe. He watched her hips undulate, and braced his large, powerful hands on either thigh. He waited for her to signal that she understood what he intended. What she’d dreamed of for so long, in the darkest hours of the night.In a choked whisper, she said, “Yes.”Vincent gave her a feral, purely male smile. And then his hands tightened on her bare thighs, spreading them wider. His head lowered, and all she could see was his dark hair, gilded by the lamps, and his exquisite wings, rising above them both.He didn’t waste time with gentle touches and ta
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