The Gilded Cage (33 page)

The intense wolfish gleam in his eyes softened and he strode toward her. Before she could move, he trapped her against one of the posts bearing an old saddle she’d been oiling earlier that day. The thick scent of the hay, the tang of the oil, and the exhale of Wes’s breath consumed her, shrinking her universe into this one infinite yet enclosed span of time. He rested one hand on the saddle by her waist, so close, but not quite touching her hip. His other hand curled under her chin and gently lifted it up so she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye.

“Shed your tears for him, Callie. You are allowed that much,” he whispered. His warm breath fanned across her lips as his face inched closer to hers.

“Allowed?” She bristled and flattened her hands on his chest, pushing hard. He didn’t budge.

“Yes.” He smiled, almost coldly. “Soon, he will cease to matter. The entire world awaits you. You need not shed another tear on a man who doesn’t deserve you.”

Her lips parted in shock. She tried to process his words, but she couldn’t understand what he meant.

Wes cupped her cheek, closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to hers. It was no chaste kiss. His tongue slid inside, stroking hers, and she jolted against him. He assaulted her senses, his hands suddenly everywhere, sliding slowly over her back, tracing her hips, caressing the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck. Her blood thundered in her ears, like the resounding beats of a mustang’s hooves upon the fields on the other side of the mountains.

His teeth sank into her bottom lip, the little sting making her gasp in shock, and a traitorous zing of awareness and pleasure rippled through her. He coaxed, teased, and played with her mouth and seemed to be memorizing her body with the way his palms shaped her curves and slopes. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. When she started to tremble he suddenly stepped back and rested his forehead against hers, their shared breaths an equal measure of soft pants.

“You aren’t ready. Not yet.” He brushed a lock of her hair back from her face and tucked it behind one of her ears. The gesture was intimate and tender. She trembled.

“Ready for what?” she demanded, but her tone was breathless.

“For me.” He withdrew from her personal space, gazing for one minute longer at her before he strode out of the tack room and away from her.

Callie lifted her fingertips to her lips, her hand shaking. What had she done? Wes had kissed her.
Kissed her.
Her first kiss. It was not the way she had planned it, and it was not from the man she wanted, the man she loved. Her heart shuddered in her chest. It felt as if she had betrayed Fenn, but she hadn’t. A person couldn’t betray someone they had never been in a relationship with. That was the biting reality she had to accept. She may have loved Fenn, but he didn’t love her back, not romantically. She would only ever be a little sister to him.

What am I going to do?
She didn’t want to go to the engagement party. But she would have to. And what about Wes? He was talking about being ready for him and he was kissing her.

The phantom press of his lips still lingered against her own, as though he’d branded her with that single sensual kiss. She hated herself for the way her body had melted into his, and the crawling need just beneath her skin that craved his touch, his caress. But she didn’t want it, want him. And she shouldn’t.

Wes Thorne was dangerous. Frighteningly intense and too much of everything. There was still that unspoken word humming in the air around her. He’d never said it, but she’d felt it in his kiss.

Soon.

LAUREN SMITH was born and raised in Tulsa. She attended Oklahoma State University where she earned a B.A. in both history and political science. Drawn to paintings and museums, Lauren is obsessed with antiques and satisfies her fascination with history by writing and exploring exotic, ancient lands.

The Gilded Cuff

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