Such relief filled Amelia that she flung herself at Colin. Their bodies collided, and she swayed backward. In a flash, he reached out and gripped her roughly to him. She splayed her hands over the ridges of his back and buried her face in his chest. It was highly improper, but she just could not seem to help herself or make herself let him go. Instead, she clung to him for a moment, counting the beats of his thumping heart and inhaling his woodsy scent. Confusing emotions ran havoc inside of her. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she admitted. “Perhaps you’re ready to move on to loftier titles.” “Don’t be absurd.” She shoved him away, angered that he would not let go of his ridiculous notions about women. If she was going to make sensible―well half-sensible―decisions regarding him, she needed to understand what drove him to distrust women so. “I know some things about you,” she blurted hoping confrontation would make him reveal something of himself. He gripped her by the arms and pulled her close. “What do you think you know?” His voice was cracked, raw. Her stomach dropped at the painful sound. “I’ve heard whispers. I know that you have quite the reputation.” “Yes, I do,” he said, his tone flat. “I built that reputation. It was a lot of hard work. Many women lined up to use me, and I let them. Then I turned around and used them in kind.”
Posted on: Thu, 16 Oct 2014 02:55:01 +0000
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