“Kiss me,” I whispered slowly, a desperate plea, and I stroked my thumb across his bottom lip. My heart pounded, and I wanted him so badly it felt like I’d jump out of my skin.

His mouth parted, and his gaze fell to my lips before flickering back up. His hands slid around my hips, and he pulled me against him. “No,” he said, but his body betrayed his pledge.

“I order you to kiss me,” I said into his lips. My fingers dipped into his waistband and began to unbuckle his belt and jeans. He took a deep breath and his hands tightened on my hips, but he didn’t stop me.

He turned his face into my neck and let out a long, frustrated groan, burning my skin with his breath and sending shivers through me. He nuzzled my hair, drinking in my scent as my fingernails ran softly down the back of his neck. “You can’t do that to me,” he said huskily, his lips brushing my skin.

I slipped my hands under his shirt, and I smoothed them over his solid abdomen. “Then kiss me because you want to.”

He lifted his head and brought his face so close to mine that I could feel the heat radiating off him. His breathing was ragged when his mouth finally met mine, the kiss deep and full of something far more carnal than any kiss before it. He kissed me as fiercely as he fought in battle, with as much determination and calculation as he had when he killed, and I melted into his body. No one had ever kissed me like that before, no one could ever kiss me like he did. I inhaled the scent of his kiss as I tasted it. He hadn’t kissed me in so very long that I was hungry for it, starving for his lips. I wound my hands around his shoulders and nipped his bottom lip gently. He squeezed me into his chest more tightly and let out a low rumble from his throat.

I pulled him over me until his body pushed mine deeper into his bed. My fingers wound through his hair as his hands explored every inch of me. His kisses moved south, and his lips found my stomach. I arched my back, and his arm slid around my waist, pulling me into him, and a soft whimper escaped me. I tugged at his shirt and yanked it over his head before sliding my hands across his bare chest and shoulders, slipping a hand over the tattoos on his arm and digging my nails into solid muscle. His mouth returned to mine, deep and exploring, and he kissed my neck, grazing my skin gently with his teeth. I kissed his shoulder as I finished unbuttoning his jeans and started to slip his belt off from around his waist.

Then his lips at my neck stopped abruptly. Before I could register what had happened, he reeled back until he was no longer touching me. I sat up in a wave of disappointment that beat at my heart and soul.

“Will—”

He backed away from the bed and my mouth clamped shut. “I … No. I can’t do this.”

“What’s wrong?” I straightened my shirt, feeling the sudden sting of embarrassment.

“You’re drunk,” he said, his voice back to normal. He began to button his jeans and put his belt back on, his hands visibly shaking.

I crept to the edge of the bed. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not you right now,” he said firmly, and backed away from me. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

I slid off the bed and eased toward him. My entire body trembled, and I was still dizzy with desire and alcohol. When I got to him, I smoothed my hands up his bare chest, my fingers lingering over the tattoos on his right arm before threading through his hair. “Yes, I do. And so do you.”

He grabbed my wrists and pulled my hands away. “No, you don’t. And it’s not right that I do.”

I searched his eyes for any brightness, any sign of passion left in him. “Don’t you want me?”

He deflated against me, exhaling. He dipped his head and kissed my shoulder before brushing his mouth along my jaw, his hands around my wrists tightening just slightly. “You have no idea how much I want you,” he whispered against my skin.

I edged closer to him, pushing my body into his heat. “Then you can have me.”

“Ellie …”

“Don’t you love me?”

He softened and kissed my wrist, his breath and lips warm. His mouth and nose nuzzled the delicate skin there and something inside my chest collapsed with a rush. “I do love you. More than anything. And that’s exactly why I’m walking away.”

He kissed my cheek and as he let go of my wrists, I shoved him away in anger. He blinked at me in surprise, confusion filling his eyes. I backed away from him unsteadily, nearly falling over before catching my balance.

“What’s wrong with me?” I spat, narrowing my eyes. “It’s not just tonight that you won’t kiss me or touch me or anything. It’s not just because I’m drunk. Why do you keep doing this?”

He shook his head tiredly. “Nothing’s wrong with you. I have to go.”

“Don’t,” I pleaded, reaching for his arms. “Stay with me, Will. Stay, please. We don’t have to do anything. I just want you here with me.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and drew in a long, shaky breath, the muscle in his jaw quivering. “I have to disobey you now. You’ll thank me in the morning.” He lowered his head to kiss my lips as chastely as in our very first kiss so long ago.

He pulled away and disappeared from the room. After a few minutes of humiliating solitude, I changed into Lauren’s pajamas. When I burrowed deep into the mattress and tugged the sheets up to my chin tightly, Will’s scent was all over the bed. I imagined him reading a book or playing his guitar in this spot on a quiet afternoon. It turned out that falling asleep in his bed was much easier than I thought it would be.