I know it’s risky, bringing up a word like love around her. The bits of her journals and poetry I’ve read dealing with the subject made her pain surrounding that emotion quite clear—and if they didn’t, the conversation she and I had—where she confessed that she believes people only love once in their lives—certainly did. Love is a dangerous topic with Justine, from any angle.

Anger still burns in her eyes as she stares at me. Fuck, why does she have to look so irresistible when she’s furious with me? My mind is flooded with images of what I want to do to her—carry her to the bed, throw her down on the sheets, and fuck her the way she’s asking to be fucked.

Suddenly, Justine smiles—but it’s not a sweet smile, or even one of understanding. Instead, that smile is just as angry as the look in her eyes.

“Love,” she says with a sharp laugh. “What do you know about love? Come to that, what do you know about what I need?” She inclines her head and shrugs my hand off her shoulder. “You don’t know as much as you think you do.”

“I know better than to trust a woman who’s suddenly throwing herself at me—”

“Do you?” She laughs again, and before I can even register what she’s doing, she releases her robe. The silky fabric falls open, revealing bare skin from her throat all the way down to her toes.

I try not to look, honestly I do. But my eyes can’t help but be drawn to her body, to trace her from her collarbone down to her feet then back up again, lingering where her thighs meet. The jolt that runs through me is so powerful it almost knocks me over.

Good God, what is she doing to me? Is she trying to make me lose control? Sure, she asked me to fuck her—but I know better than to trust those words out of her mouth, after all we’ve been through. She might mean them now, but she won’t mean it in the morning. Or even an hour from now.

When I finally drag my eyes to her face again, I find her watching me intently. I’m sure she knows exactly what she’s doing to me, but I refuse to give in.

Slowly, without saying a word, she lets the robe fall down her shoulders. The silk slides down her arms, flowing like water, before finally pooling on the carpet below.

My breath catches. She’s completely naked in front of me, and though my mind screams to look away, I can’t. My gaze drinks her in, and though the light is dim, the shadows only seem to enhance the curves of her body, making them more pronounced. From her round breasts to her modest hips, from her dark pink nipples to her bellybutton…I can’t look away.

The voice in my head is still screaming at me, telling me to turn away from her, shouting at me to stop staring. But I can’t. My mouth has gone completely dry, and the rest of me has gone white hot. An inferno burns inside me, scorching me from the inside out, drowning out everything else.

I don’t even realize I’ve moved, but suddenly I find her in my arms. My hands slide up her back, and her bare skin is hot under my touch—but I’m not sure whether the heat comes from her or me. And I don’t have the patience for thinking right now.

My mouth is on hers. I’m not sure whether I kissed her or she kissed me, but I don’t care. Every part of her feels as hot as my own body, and that only makes the desire burn brighter. I can’t remember what we were arguing about—right now, I know one thing and one thing only.

The taste of her mouth is intoxicating. The scent of her skin is invasive. I feel as if I’ve known that taste and that scent forever, like my body is responding to something it didn’t know it was missing.

We’ve reached the bed again. I’m not quite sure how we got here, but that doesn’t matter. I throw her down on the mattress and fall on top of her, kissing her everywhere I can reach—her face, her throat, her collarbone, her breasts. My mouth finds its way down to her nipples, and I suck one between my lips. She moans and arches against me, and her nails send pricks of pain into my back.

Fuck me, even her skin tastes amazing. Everything about her is exquisite, and I can’t get enough.

I kiss her other nipple, then return to her mouth, plying her lips open with my tongue. One of my hands moves to her hair, while the other slides down between her legs, slipping between her thighs.

She’s already dripping wet. If there’d been any lingering doubts that she wanted me, that discovery scares them all away. My hand slides against her easily, and she squirms and gasps, then lifts her hips to show me how she likes to be touched.

Her hands are doing their own explorations. Her fingers graze my back, then move down to my ass. Everywhere she touches, my skin prickles. Sometimes she tightens her grip, letting her nails bite into my flesh, and that flare of pain sends a fresh round of blood to my cock. I ache to drive into her, to stop with the teasing and torturing and go right to the main event, but something holds me back—part of me wants to keep exploring first, wants to discover a few more of her secrets before charging towards the finish line.

I grab her by the thigh and pull her leg up over my hip, giving me easier access to the silken skin between her legs. Before tonight, Justine made quite the show of not wanting me—of suggesting we’d never end up consummating our marriage—but between her legs, she’s groomed in such a way to suggest she knew this was coming…or was at least open to the possibility of it coming. It makes me burn with need.

My fingers move deeper, this time slipping inside of her. She moans again, pressing her body up against mine, and her teeth bite down on my bottom lip. I stroke her slowly—and gently, at first, but urgency soon takes over. I want her like I’ve never wanted any woman ever before—I don’t know how, or what she’s done to me, but I’m too far under her spell to worry about it for long.

She whimpers, shifting her hips to meet the thrusts of my fingers, guiding me with the subtle movements of her body. Justine seems to know exactly what she wants, and she has the confidence to show me—she’s not nearly as shy or innocent as I expected, given that she’s only had one other sexual partner in her life.

That thought slows me down a little. I’m only the second man she’s ever known this way. All the things she likes and wants…she learned with him. Because he touched her this way. Because he showed her how her body could feel.

I suddenly feel as if someone has thrown a bucket of ice water over my head.

It all comes back to him, that bastard. Jealousy courses through me, but it isn’t the blazing, fiery jealousy I’m used to. No, this jealousy is cold and hard and bitter.

“William?”

Justine’s voice startles me out of my thoughts. I realize I’ve stopped moving, and she stares up at me with a mix of expectancy and confusion on her face. Her face is flushed, her lips swollen, her eyes bright. Fuck, she looks more beautiful than I’ve ever seen her. And yet I find myself stumbling back from the bed.

“This is wrong,” I rasp. My feet nearly trip over something—her robe. I reach down and grab it, then throw it at her. “I shouldn’t have fallen for that.” But fuck me, I still want her so much…

She grips the robe to her chest, blinking, the confusion still in her eyes. I don’t want to be here when that confusion turns to anger. I only have a few seconds to escape.

But the anger never comes. Instead, she stands, letting the robe fall again.

“Are you really going to leave me like this?” she asks softly.

“I won’t fuck you.” The words are almost impossible to get out.

“Then don’t.” Her eyes flicker, but I can’t read the emotion. “Call it something else if you like. Call it making love, if that makes you feel better.”

She sits back down on the edge of the bed, waiting. And I find myself walking back toward her, drawn by some invisible force.

I won’t fuck her. I won’t. And calling it something different doesn’t change anything. I won’t be tricked by something as simple as wording.

But I can’t walk away from her, either.

In the back of my mind, I haven’t forgotten the other man. And I won’t—not ever, I suspect. But when Justine looks at me with those dark eyes of hers, begging me to give her pleasure, I can’t deny her.

No, I won’t fuck her. But there are plenty of other things I can do.

When I get to the bed, I don’t lower myself on top of her again. Instead, I place my hand in the center of her chest and push her down fully onto her back. Then I kneel in front of her, pushing her knees apart.

Her voice rises from the rumpled sheets. “What are you…”

She doesn’t get a chance to finish her question. Her words dissolve into a gasp at the first touch of my tongue between her legs.

No, Princess, you won’t get fucked tonight. Not by me. But I’m not going to rest until I give her an orgasm she won’t soon forget.