Her eyes went black. Wary. He felt her tense, but she still didn’t flinch away.
“I want to kiss you again, Dahlia.”
Her eyes were huge. She lifted her chin, but didn’t break eye contact. “I want to kiss you too, but that doesn’t mean we should. It’s dangerous. And we don’t even know each other.”
A faint smile came out of nowhere. “I’m willing to get to know you intimately. Very intimately. That would solve the problem quickly.” His thumb slid over her velvet-soft lower lip, stroked small caresses there. He was fascinated by the shape of her lips. He could actually taste her in his mouth—haunting, feminine. Addicting.
Heat flared between them, smoldered there. Dahlia inhaled sharply. “Nicolas.” There was an ache in her voice.
His fingers curved around the nape of her neck. He knew better. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand the consequences. It was just that nothing mattered but touching her. Getting close to her, skin to skin. Burying his body deep inside hers. The rest of it was just details. He had a primitive need to leave his mark on her, so that she would always be his. Always want him in the way he wanted her.
Dahlia could feel the heat swamping both of them. It would take so little to just wrap her arms around his neck and burn in the fire, but it wouldn’t be fair to Nicolas. He had no idea what he’d be getting into, nor how dangerous it might be. She took a deep breath and pushed one hand against Nicolas’s chest. “Go take a shower. Use cold water, it will help.”
It took him a moment to control the urgent demands of his body. As he stepped away from her, the pad of his finger slipped down her throat and trailed over the swell of her breast before he dropped his hand to his side.
Dahlia shivered at his touch. She remained still, only inches from him, refusing to back away… or move forward. “Fortunately, Jesse stashed some clothes here for me. He’s a thoughtful man.”
“Is that what you call him? I think interfering busybody would just about say it all. I like you without clothes.”
“Nicolas,” she cautioned. “I’m hanging on by a thread. You’re supposed to help.”
“Tell me why again, and I’ll work on it.”
“We don’t know what can happen.” He was still standing close enough that she could feel the heat of his body. His need was urgent and evident and he made no effort to hide his arousal. “And,” she held up her hand before he could speak, “I’m not completely comfortable with you yet.”
He sighed softly. “You managed to think of the one thing to say that gives me no other recourse.” He went up the stairs, his body aching for relief.
Nicolas would normally revel in the hot shower after such uncomfortable conditions, but he found he was different. Soaping the mud from his hair, he contemplated his uneasiness. As a rule, he enjoyed solitude. He needed seclusion. Isolation was his chosen way of life, so much so that he normally avoided people, yet he felt reluctant to be away from Dahlia.
He was a methodical man, one who thought things through logically. As he showered, he forced his mind to regain discipline and control. He should have been the one controlling the situation, not Dahlia, and yet she had stopped them both times. His lack of discipline when he was all about discipline confused him. Determined to recover his normal tranquility, he used the training ingrained in him by his maternal grandfather, Konin Yogosuto. Automatically he began deep breathing. He concentrated on his teachings, beliefs that were a part of his life, a part of who he was. Unification of mind and body. Complete harmony in the universe. One with the universe. Where there is chaos, there must also be calm. He repeated the soothing mantra, allowing the familiar teachings to center him.
Energy, sexual or violent, even normal energy, swarmed to Dahlia. He created the energy simply by thinking of her. By wanting her. If he was to find a path with her, he needed to find a measure of control. Dahlia was a unique woman, one who had lived a life of solitude and betrayal. She wouldn’t trust him until he earned that trust, no matter how attracted they were physically. Dahlia needed friendship and she needed to feel “normal,” whatever that might be. Whatever it was, he was determined he would find a balance that would work for them.