“Your fiancé may well be the stupidest man on the planet.” What kind of dumb fuck left his fiancée at the altar? In fact, what kind of dumb fuck left a woman like Victoria at any time? That defied belief.

She shrugged. “Or maybe I’m the stupidest woman on earth for believing we had something real.”

He made short work of the space between them, crossing the gazebo to crouch before her. “Sexiest woman,” he corrected. “Not stupidest. Never stupidest.”

Victoria looked down at him with wide eyes. He couldn’t make out the blue irises in the dimness, but wished he could, wished he could read in her expression what she hid with her words.

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

It was only when a wet drop landed on his knee that he realized she was trembling. Shaking hard enough to spill the wine. As gently as possible, he reached up and took both the bottle and glass from her hands, setting them on the bench a little way away. Then he took her hands in his and gazed up into those enormous eyes.

Christ, her hands were blocks of ice. Not surprising seeing as she still wore nothing but the shorts and singlet she’d had on earlier. While the early autumn days were still warm, the night temperatures dropped a little. A slight chill bit at the air, yet Victoria seemed not to notice.

Andrew whipped off his hoodie and wrapped it around her shoulders, guiding her arms into the sleeves and encasing her in its warmth.

Then he knelt before her again and once more took her hands in his, holding them between his palms to share his body heat. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as he looked up at her. “So sorry he hurt you like that.”

She stared back at him, and there was no mistaking her shimmer of tears. Again she opened her mouth to say something, and again nothing came out. Well, nothing except a tiny sob.

Before Andrew had time to realize her intentions, she did the last thing he’d ever have expected: let out a small cry, grasped his arms in her hands and kissed him.

Not just kissed him. Consumed him.

Her mouth crashed down on his, her lips instantly molding to his open ones, startling him down to his toes. Her tongue demanded entrance to his mouth, pushing inside greedily while her lips destroyed his resolve to keep his distance.

The kiss came as an assault to his senses, an attack on his equilibrium, yet every fiber of his being accepted it as right. Welcomed it. Relished it. As astonishing as the circumstances might be, this, she, was exactly what Andrew needed, exactly what he wanted.

Sparks flared around them, as though he’d been struck by static electricity from her touch alone. His body hardened to the point of pain.

Common sense pounded at his head, telling him to pull away. Victoria might be what he wanted, but he was not what she wanted. He was not the man she’d chosen, not the man she’d promised her future to.

But as practical as common sense was, it could not force his mouth from hers.

He didn’t try to stop her. He just let her in, let her devour him with a hunger he hadn’t anticipated, until her passion carried him away on the ride of his life.

But there was more than just passion in her kiss. No matter how intensely he felt her lust, he sensed her ire, her fury and her disappointment too. It permeated her grasp, burning him as she dug her nails into his skin. It also echoed through his brain, vibrating in the groan of hurt and hunger she emitted as she kissed him.

She tasted like the very wine she’d claimed not to have drunk—silky, smooth and fruity. The flavor was intoxicating, throwing his head into an instant spin. Like an alcoholic desperate for another drink, he kissed her back, as hard as she kissed him, indulging in her addictive taste.

This was insane. Crazy. The woman was in pain. She was hurting, mourning the end of her marriage before it had even begun. He should be consoling her, comforting her. Offering sympathy, not trying to suck the tonsils from her throat.

But instead of doing what any decent guy would do, he took the opportunity to luxuriate in the velvety heat of her mouth.

Her hands vanished from his arms only to tangle in his hair. Had he tried to pull away and draw breath, he’d have failed. She clung to him, holding him close, allowing no path of escape.

But then who would want to escape or try to end a kiss with a woman who’d blown his mind a second after meeting her?

A decent man, that’s who. Someone who was thinking with his head, not his dick. Only Andrew seemed not to have been able to think with his head since he’d met her. The two organs functioning adequately were his dick and his heart, and both demanded he give this woman whatever she wanted.