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“I dreamed of you,” he whispered against her lips, holding her face between his hands as the water fell around them. “Every time I closed my eyes, Bella, I saw you as you were the day I left. Teasing me. Laughing at me. I saw you tempting me to take you, one more time, and I ached until the ache nearly destroyed me.”
“I touched you in my dreams.” She touched his lips, caressed his beard. “I kissed you, I held you.”
“You saved me.” His head lowered and the kiss he gave her was more than lust this time, it was more than hunger. It was a homecoming, and her breath caught at the sweet heat of it.
His lips loved hers, made love to them. They stroked and caressed as his tongue licked and slid over hers, tasting her, sinking into her, until Sabella felt lost in the wonder of it.
This was her husband. He hadn’t died. He had been wounded. Perhaps hiding. But the man who loved Sabella Malone was still there, and he was still living proud.
“Bella, if I don’t do you soon, my brain is going to explode.”
His hands were clenched at her waist, his expression tight, honed with the lust he did nothing to hide now.
Well, the dirty talk was new, but she liked that. And she had a feeling that like the naked lust that slipped out of control, the vocalization of it had just been hidden before as well.
Her hand slid down his chest until she could curve her fingers over the thick, iron-hard shaft.
“Hmm. How are you going to do me?” She looked up at him from beneath lowered lashes. “All those threats you’ve made over the past weeks, maybe I should be wary?”
His gaze flared, blue back lit by a fiery blue flame.
“I don’t make threats. I make promises,” he warned her, watching her now with a sensual intent that had her body humming.
He shut off the water before reaching outside the shower and dragging one of the large bath sheets from the towel rack.
“I think you’re all talk,” she breathed out before rasping her teeth over her lower lip and giving him a look that promised she belonged to him. As long as he belonged to her.
He didn’t say a word. He dried them both off. The look in his eyes warned her though. Warned her that the promises that had slipped past his lips over the past weeks were going to be kept.
Her rear clenched at the thought, her juices spilled from between her thighs, creating a hot, sensual, sexy feeling that she couldn’t escape. Didn’t want to escape.
Her husband had always made her feel this way. Like a woman, desirable, earthy, willing to be pleasured. Waiting to be pleasured. But so eager to pleasure in return.
She watched as he dried her. Watched as he knelt in front of her. For just a second, the barest second, his fingers splayed over her lower stomach and his lashes flickered over his eyes.
She wished she could see his eyes. Wished she could see the same hopes and the wellspring of paternal pride she knew he would be feeling. They had always wanted children. But they had always wanted to wait until he would be home more to see their baby grow.
Those thoughts became swamped then. Pleasure whipped through her like lightning gone wild. It sizzled over her nerve endings, attacked her fingertips, her toes, her hard nipples, and the burgeoning knot of her clit.
And he was just kissing her. Kissing the rise of her mound, just above her clit, feathering his breath over her clit and sending erratic, ecstatic impulses of pleasure racing over her flesh.
Her fingers dug into his wet hair as his hands pressed against the inside of her thighs, parting them. Callused hands caressed the flesh there, tested the muscles, came so close to the weeping center of her body that her breath caught. Though he didn’t actually touch her with his hands.
“You’re teasing me to death,” she breathed out roughly.
His only response was a muttered “mmm” as he kissed her clit and nearly threw her into climax. And oh, she needed her climax.
“I love your bare little pussy.” He lifted his head and stared up at her with wicked dark blue eyes. “It gets so wet, your flesh so silky.”
She shivered at the sound of his rough voice.
“I could come real easy too,” she panted, parting her legs further and flushing furiously as he parted the folds of her pussy and just looked at her.
His gaze was almost a physical caress as he stared at her pussy then licked his lips hungrily.
“I’m gonna eat you first,” he growled. “Eat you like candy, Bella. Lick all that sweet, wet sugar and listen to your cries fill my head.”
She was going to melt all over him just like hot, wet sugar if he wasn’t careful. His voice, so rough, so ruined, but that hint of lyrical Irish lurked just beneath the surface.
