For Desire Alone by Jess Michaels

matched. They were one body, bound by the passion they’d shared. Mariah didn’t think she’d felt so close to a lover before.
    As if he sensed those deeper thoughts, John kissed her cheek with such gentleness that it brought tears to her eyes and withdrew from her.
    The loss of their intertwined bodies left Mariah bereft, but she said nothing and instead began to look around for her long ago discarded gown. John dressed himself swiftly, but her dress and underthings were more complicated. She stepped into the gown and then looked at him from the corner of her eye.
    “Er, could you?” she asked, suddenly shy and awkward around a man she had not only called friend for years, but who had just soundly fucked her against a parlor wall.
    “Of course,” he said and turned her so her back was to him.
    Mariah was glad not to face him. He was so disconcerting to her now. They had been friends, except not. They were now lovers…except not. She never knew what to expect from him when once he had been such a steadfast part of her life.
    “Have I proven you wrong?” he asked softly as he fastened the last button.
    “Wrong?” she repeated, her brain too foggy from release to fathom what he could mean.
    He chuckled and the deep sound reverberated through her sensitive body. “You said I didn’t want you. Have I proven you wrong?”
    She turned to look at him. “I—I suppose it is evident you do want me after all,” she conceded with a shrug. “But you do not want to be my protector.”
    His smile fell and he turned to look out the window. He was quite for a long moment, then he muttered, “I’m no one’s protector, trust me, Mariah.”
    Once again, Mariah sensed his anger. That was twice in just a handful of days, when she had never felt such strong emotion from him before.
    She longed to know why this topic inspired such an intense reaction, but was in no position to ask him. They were not in a relationship, despite this second surrender to desire. Even if they were, that kind of intimacy could only lead to heartache. She refused to develop feelings for any man she took to her bed again.
    She shrugged off her desire to know more and said, “Then what do you want, John? Because I cannot for the life of me fathom your secret plans.”
    He sat down on the settee and rubbed his eyes. “You and I have known each other for a great many years, Mariah,” he said. “I will be as honest with you as I am able, for I feel you deserve that, especially after Owen’s deceptive actions.”
    Mariah flinched at the reminder, but then nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate the respect honesty implies more than you know.”
    “Please sit.” He motioned to the chair near him.
    She took it and watched as he rang for tea.
    It was amazing. They had just wrapped themselves around each other, coupled with wild, animal abandon and now the servants brought in a service as if nothing had happened. As if this were a normal little meeting between friends.
    The servants left and John motioned for her to pour. She did so, sweetening his tea just as she remembered he liked it. As he took a sip, he smiled.
    “Mariah, I want to admit to you that I have desired you greatly,” he said as he set his cup down.
    Mariah had just taken a sip of her own tea and began to choke on the contents with surprise at his admission. Once she had regained her breath, she stared at him.
    “I beg your pardon?”
    He nodded. “From the first moment I saw you, I wanted you. It was the night of the Nethercourt gathering three years ago. You wore a green gown and your eyes seemed to be alive with color. You entered the room and I had to have you… I would have had you, except that Owen told me you were his new mistress.”
    Mariah blinked in increasing disbelief at the detail John could recount of the night of their first meeting. “I—I had no idea of your feelings.”
    “Of course not.” John frowned. “I made certain you did not, nor did Owen. I would not have