He’d lost her. And so he’d looked for solace in his friends, in copious amounts of brandy, and cigars. Yes, he’d tried cigars again because the thought of burying himself in any of the myriad light skirts who’d been thrown his way only made him want to weep.
But he really hated cigars. Made him want to gag and left a foul taste in his mouth. Which meant tonight had been about the brandy. And the wine. And ale. And anything else alcoholic that could possibly be consumed while lamenting his failures.
He closed his eyes, allowing the room to spin him into unconsciousness. Of course, the room might spin, but his mind always conjured up her face. Her voice. Her luscious body.
“Trevor?”
Bloody hell, he loved her voice.
“The door was open, and I…well, I just came in. I’d like to talk to you. Trevor?”
Damn that sounded close. As if it were real. As if…
Someone touched his shoulder, and his eyes snapped opened. “Mellie!” he cried, though it was more a hoarse croak.
She frowned down at him. Or at least he thought she did. Then she turned and quickly lit a candle. He winced from the light, but couldn’t stop looking at her. Made for a bloody awkward position as he tried to stare and shut his eyes at the same time.
“Mellie?” he croaked again.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m bloody pissed, I am. Are you really here?”
“Yes, I’m here,” she said, her voice rueful. “And I can smell the drink on you. Did you swim in it?”
“Tried to,” he admitted. “Only way to stop thinking about you.” Then he shrugged. “But it doesn’t work.”
“So then why do it?”
Well, wasn’t that a bugger of a question. And right there was the whole damned point. She asked the right questions, which always led to the right answers. And here he’d thought all along it was him with the ideas. Well, it was, but only because she asked the right questions.
“Trevor?”
“Mellie, can I kiss you? I really miss kissing you.”
She touched his forehead, stroking his brow. “I need to talk to you. Can you focus for a moment?”
He could focus on anything that washer. So he rubbed his eyes, pushed up on his bed, and sat facing her. But his hands…damn, he needed to touch her, so even as she sat primly beside him on the bed, he had to feel her skin. He had to outline the length of her thigh, to stroke the creamy softness of her arm, to know the round firmness of her breast.
“Trevor.”
His gaze shot to hers. He noted with pleasure that her cheeks were flushed, her lips were moist, and most especially that her nipple had hardened under his caress. But then she trapped his hand, not pulling it away, but stilling his movements.
“Mellie,” he said, putting all his feeling into these words. “I’m so sorry I failed you.”
She smiled. “You didn’t fail me. Everything you planned happened just as you said.”
He shook his head. Not as he said. Or perhaps, maybe exactly as he’d said, but it wasn’t what he wanted anymore. He didn’t want to be estranged from her. He didn’t want any of it.
He sighed, the drink clearing out of his mind a little. She was the more potent drug anyway. “You came to talk to me. What did you want to say?”
His hand had gone slack, so she drew it to her lips. She pressed a kiss to his fingers that sent fire straight to his cock. And her words—damn, they went straight to his head.
“Trevor, I love you. Don’t tell me it isn’t real love. I know my own mind. I love you, and I want to fight for you.”
He gaped at her, his body and mind throwing him a thousand different reactions all at once. There was joy, stunned incredulity, even denial and shame, because he wasn’t worthy of her. And most of all, there was his baser instinct, the one that said clearly:possessthiswomannow. Take her, and make her yours without doubt, without hesitation because…
Well, he never got to thebecause. He simply stayed with the growingneedthat became anow.