HerOutlandishStranger by Summer Devon

the
darkness when she felt his own hand slowly and almost completely enfold hers.
But he did not move another muscle after that. In fact she wondered if the
strain of holding so still would cause him discomfort for she swore she felt
him tremble.
    “Mr. White.” She spoke quietly, so that if he slept she
would not disturb him.
    “Yes.” His voice was raw and wide awake.
    “It would be… I do not mind…” She trailed off, appalled at
the realization she was about to invite him to make love to her. And even more
appalled by the surge of desire that compelled her to do so. The hand holding
hers tightened, but he still did not move.
    The gesture was enough. She threw caution to the wind and
inched slowly up. Then very lightly she rubbed her mouth against his neck. The
skin below his ear was smoother than she’d imagined. His light, curling hair
she timidly stroked was soft. A heavy breath shuddered through him, but still
he did not move. She pushed herself higher and kissed his high cheekbone, above
the line of his beard.
    She explored his jaw with a light touch of lips. As her hand
smoothed a lock of his curling hair back, he spoke in a hoarse whisper. “Miss
Wickman, I give up. I am probably going to put my foot into it.” He stopped and
asked, “Know what that stupid expression means?”
    “Yes, I think I do.”
    “Fine. Right.” He took a deep breath that she felt all along
her front. “Miss Wickman. You are without a doubt the most attractive woman I
have ever met.”
    She opened her mouth to protest at such absurdity but of
course he didn’t see her.
    Before she could reply, he went on, “I have to fight myself
every moment to keep from grabbing you. I would sell ten years of my life to be
able to spend a night with you. The moment I knew we’d be in this shed I’ve
thought of something—something like this. And I hoped that simply holding you
and kissing you would be enough. I almost convinced myself. But Miss Wickman,
it wouldn’t be. I’m too starved for you.”
    She slid down so that she lay behind him again, her face hot
as she considered the interesting and alarming things his words did to her insides.
She turned to jelly. Her hand still lay on his shoulder and she pressed her
forehead against his back.
    His next words stopped the heat gathering inside her as if
he’d thrown a bucket of cold water over her.
    “Here is the thing I’ve got to tell you—I cannot marry you.
If I could, I would.” His voice filled with a wondering awe. “Isn’t it strange?
I haven’t known you long but…” He chuckled softly and she felt the vibration of
his voice course through her whole body. “Ha! I don’t even know if you even care
about marriage, but I was given to understand that this matters to women, I
mean ladies like you. I cannot marry you. Well-bred women do not give
themselves to men they cannot marry.”
    He sounded as if he were simply reciting a fact. She felt
ashamed however and roundly cursed herself. She had thrown herself at him and
lost his respect—and her self-respect as well. Perhaps the longest speech he
had ever shared with her and it addressed her shameless behavior, with bits of
sweetness thrown in, no doubt to make her feel better.
    She gave a soft whimper and he must have sensed her
mortification. “No, no, I don’t care a bit. I mean, I don’t think less of you
for, um, I mean I wouldn’t if…” He snorted. “I don’t think I can think or speak
clearly with you against me. Hey. No, no! Don’t move. I don’t care if I ever
spoke or thought again,” he quickly added, grabbing and holding her wrist as
she tried to edge away. The man had a grip like iron and almost at once she
stopped trying to wedge herself loose.
    “No, please, don’t be angry with me or with yourself. We’re
human.” He sighed. “And I’m too greedy not to say one more thing. If there’s a
chance you think that you’d be able to live with yourself if you, er, made love
with me, I’d be