Page 84 of The Duchess Curse

She released a guttural cry as he hit home hard. “No! You’re safe now. More, oh Bran, I need more.”

Safe now?

Whatever that meant didn’t matter.

There would be more.

No need for control, so he let it go and gave into the beauty of her body, the heat of his need, and the perfection of them together. He pumped in and out, curving one arm beneath her to stroke her clit again and again until she cried out, muscles clenching around him as she came again. And that was enough. He came, too, hard and fast, and he pulled out at the last second, spilling his seed on the bed.

He collapsed to the other side of her, and without a single push or pull or urging from him, she curled herself into his chest.

As the first slant of yellow light crept across them, igniting a sliver of golden glamour across his chest and arm, he pulled her to the head of the bed and beneath the blankets.

More shadows there. Still himself. Still Bran holding Guin like he’d always wanted.

19

HOW TO MAKE A MAN LESS GRUMPY

Guin woke up hungry and trapped. A heavy arm chained her to the bed around the waist and an even heavier leg rested across hers.

She froze for a moment, waiting for the regret, the fear, the need to run.

But it never came.

He was safe.

She grinned and stretched her arms over her head, wiggled her toes, feeling alive and full of life, and… happy?

She laughed. She hadn’t felt this lovely since before the fire.

Bran muttered something and dragged her closer, settled her bottom against his hard shaft and buried his face in her neck. She let him. Because he’d lied, and she would never love a liar, and— She twisted to look up at his scruffy, half-golden face, and she kissed his chin.

“What was that for?” His voice was sleep heavy and rough and skated across her skin like a cat’s tongue.

She shivered. “Because I hate you.”

He lifted his head, looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Why the hell do you sound so merry about it?”

“Because you, dreadful Bran, are safe.” She grinned and moved to hop out of the bed. She had a busy day ahead of her.

But his arm banded like steel around her waist. “Not so fast, Lady G. You said that earlier, too. What do you mean?”

“The curse. I’ll never love you because you lied.” My, she did sound cheerful. “So you’re safe from it. As am I.”

“I’m safe from it because, if there really is a corruption of transcendent talent passed from one generation to the next, it cannot impact me. I’m not related to you by blood.”

“Proximity, I suppose. What is corrupt in me is triggered by positive emotions, love, then it corrupts you on some unseen level.”

“Absurd.” He let his arm fall from her and turned to stare at the ceiling, folding his deliciously muscled arms behind his head. The blankets settled low across his hips. A hum vibrated in his throat.

“I’m not sure. If I distance myself from it, I feel as you do. But I often cannot. Everyone I’ve loved has been ripped from me. I love my mother, and she sent me away. I loved Tommy, and he died. I loved my first husband as my closest friend, and he too died.”

“Foolishness, youth, and age, Guin. Not a curse.”

She wanted it to be true. But what if it wasn’t?

She slung her legs over the side of the bed and one toe touched the floor before she crawled back to him. “You are grumpy.”