Read Online Promise Me Tonight by Sara Lindsey - Free Book Online

need you....” A shock ran through James’s body at hearing those words from her mouth. Emotions warred and clashed within him, battling for supremacy.
    Anger, certainly, at her for kissing him at all, but mostly directed toward himself.
    Desperation, from the pain of unfulfilled desire. Horror and guilt because, God forgive him, he had nearly taken Isabella —who was practically a child, and not just any child, but one he was honor bound to love and protect as a brother—right there on a table in the library.
    Self-loathing because, if he was being honest with himself, he still wanted to.
    And excitement and hope and something else, some emotion he couldn’t name but that tugged insistently at his heart, thrilled by the notion that she needed him.
    “I need you to do up my gown.”
    James stared at her. I need you to do up my gown. Not I need you .
    Disappointment rose up in his throat, which was bloody well ridiculous since he should have been down on his bloody knees and kissing the bloody ground; that was all she was asking of him. Unaccountably, it made him angry. Actually, it made him bloody furious! Then she had the gall to stamp her dainty little foot at him, and something inside him snapped.
    He grabbed her shoulders, turned her about, and angrily began fastening her gown, erasing, with each inch of flesh that disappeared from his sight, the undoing that had been his undoing. As he slid the top button through its silken loop, his hands brushed the soft skin at her nape. He felt a shudder travel through her body. Just like that, he came undone all over again.
    The hands that had wanted to throttle her only moments before gentled; he watched, fascinated, as his thumbs began caressing her petal-soft skin. It was as if his mind had no control over his body. Not that that was surprising. It was a different part of his body altogether that was dictating his behavior with Isabella.
    As the thought ran through his head, Isabella let out a soft sigh, and turned into him, her head nestling against his chest. His arms automatically came up and tightened around her, holding her close . . . and then he realized what he was doing.
    Bloody hell, it had happened again. She had made him lose control, and he didn’t like it. Didn’t like the way she made him feel. Or rather, he liked it too much, but he had decided long ago not to feel. Because feeling led to loving, and loving was dangerous.
    He could not let himself fall in love. That, and only that, was what enabled him to step away from Isabella. It was an act of self-preservation. It was so tempting to take what she so sweetly offered.
    Her lips, still swollen and rosy from his kisses, pouted to once again be covered by his own. Her lush body arched against him was the physical embodiment of every erotic fantasy he had ever had, but he cared about her too much already. She was a risk, a complication he couldn’t afford.
    She would hurt now, but she would heal. What she felt for him was infatuation, the remnants of a childhood tendresse mixed with a good dose of lust.
    Lust for Isabella Weston.
    It was strange, yet undeniable, and certainly preferable to love. Lust he could dismiss. Love was—
    It didn’t bloody matter what love was, because she wasn’t in love with him. She couldn’t be. It was some sort of bizarre womanly logic, which meant it had nothing to do with logic at all. He was older and, moreover, he was a man; it was, therefore, his assessment of the situation that was correct, and he was dealing with lust, not love.
    Not love at all.
    So he stepped away from her knowing, as he did, that it was the right thing to do.
    “I apologize,” he said. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
    “You’re apologizing for kissing me?” she asked incredulously.
    He nodded. “And for the—” His gaze dropped to her chest, finishing the unspoken thought.

    With the events of that evening, Izzie wouldn’t have thought she had a shred of modesty left, but she felt a