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torturous state of wanting someone who didn’t want him back. Of loving someone who couldn’t stand his touch.
    He dragged his mouth away. Yet he couldn’t tear his gaze from Thea’s upturned face: her kiss-ripened lips, her golden hazel eyes both sultry and pure… and he registered that she didn’t look afraid. No, she looked desirous .
    Then her hands darted out. Gripped the back of his head.
    Lord Almighty, she tugged on his hair to bring his mouth back to hers.
    Her sweet, feminine aggression snapped his restraint. A growl rose in his throat, and then he was kissing her again. His hand knotted in the fine silk of her hair, holding her steady as he plundered her mouth. He drove his tongue into the honeyed cove. Her taste infused his senses, fed his hunger, the need to take more of her. When her hand slipped inside his collar, his vision blurred at the edges.
    Before he knew it, he had her in his arms, on his lap on the settee. His kiss was hard, demanding, yet she didn’t push him away. Her fingernails grazed gently against the rigid muscles of his chest, and the beast in him reared in startled delight. Beneath her soft bottom, his cock was harder than steel, throbbing with an intensity that bordered on pain. When she squirmed, he knew an agonizing pleasure.
    The warning bells of his conscience faded to the roar of his blood. His hands roved with a marauder’s touch, parting the panels of her robe to reveal the voluminous shift beneath. Swathed in snowy linen, she was the quintessence of femininity. He traced the elegant slope of her collarbone beneath the thin fabric, her heart fluttering like a hummingbird beneath his palm. When he cradled one perfect breast, his thumb whispering over its stiffened peak, her gasp heated his lips.
    “I’ve dreamed of this,” he rasped. “Of touching you.”
    Her thick golden lashes swept up. She whispered, “Do it again. Please.”
    The innocent longing in her eyes shook him to the core. He repeated the caress, strumming her nipple through the linen, arousal scorching him as her neck arched over his other arm. The graceful curve tempted him beyond bearing. He bent and nuzzled her throat. Lust became the scent of honeysuckle and soap, the sweep of his tongue over the softest, smoothest skin.
    The breathless sounds she made maddened him. His kisses roved lower and lower, and then he was suckling her breast through the linen. His nostrils flared at the sight of her nipple jutting against the wetted barrier. Groaning, he drew her back into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the stiff crest. Blood pounded in his ears, in his turgid shaft. Darkness flooded his veins, and he grazed her with his teeth—
    “Tremont. Wait.”
    Her panting words barely permeated his haze of lust.
    “I can’t—I can’t breathe.”
    His head snapped up. Thea’s face was pale, her chest moving up and down in quick, shallow waves. Her pupils were dilated—with fear?
    His gut recoiled as if punched. “What’s the matter?”
    “My lungs… tight…”
    Understanding dawned. “Tell me what to do,” he said tersely.
    “Tea,” she said between gasped breaths. “Helps…”
    He snatched the pot off the coffee table, sloshing some of the liquid into a cup. He held it to her lips. “Here. Drink slowly.”
    She obeyed, taking small sips. Gradually, her respiration steadied.
    Pushing away the cup, she said, “I’m fine now.”
    In the firelight, he saw that some color had returned to her fine-boned features. Her bosom rose and fell in a regular cadence. He felt relief, followed by a swift undertow of anger. At himself.
    “I apologize,” he said stiffly. “I should never have—”
    “It’s not your fault. It just happens sometimes.” Her cheeks were pink now. “Excitement can trigger an episode, and, well, there’s been plenty of that today, hasn’t there?”
    Her attempt at levity did nothing to assuage his guilt.
    “It’s late,” he said curtly. “If you’re feeling better, you