He groaned as Cristina’s body molded against his. God in heaven, their earlier kiss had but hinted at the breadth of the woman within, of her desire. She was a woman crafted by the fantasies of many a man.
With his blood pounding hot, he drew on her tongue, savored her taste. Would even this night be enough? Aye, he would make it so.
He took the kiss deeper, wanting her whimpers of need, her mews of pleasure as he slowly made love to her.
The force of his need left his fingers trembling as he slid his hand down the silk of her throat. With slow enjoyment, he unbound the first tie, and then cupped the curve of her breast.
At her gasp of pleasure, desire ripped through him. He ignored the urge to strip her, to take what his body demanded. He’d wanted to make love to her, but their joining would be more than finding release. More than he’d ever expected.
As if life ever gave you what you expected?
Now, he’d been given the gift of this woman, a woman he must let go on the morrow.
With infinite care, he teased her bud, skimmed his fingers over the taut flesh as he claimed her lips. He savored the softness of her mouth, amazed at how she gave back, more than he could have ever believed.
Her body trembled, shifted restlessly against his.
He hardened, painfully so. Patrik cupped the back of her neck, turned with her until his back pressed against the wall. He caught her hand and laid it over his hard length to show her how she pleased him.
Cristina stiffened, jerked her hand free.
Stunned, Patrik broke their kiss. Within her passion, he caught a hint of fear. “You are safe with me.” He kept his words soft, gentle so as not to alarm her further.
Her mouth swollen with his kisses, she stared at him, her nerves easy to read. “I-I thought you wanted to make love to me?”
Damn him, he’d pushed her too fast. “I want you, never doubt that. But what we share this night is your decision. We are both tired, our desires tangled with fatigue.” She wet her lips; his body trembled with wanting her. “Neither can I forget the attack of two days past, nor the loss of your husband, a man you loved. As much as I want you in my bed, never have I taken advantage of a woman, neither will I begin now.”
“I . . .” Cristina looked away.
With his entire body aching, he released her. “I will retrieve the blankets to make a pallet.”
“Patrik—”
He stopped, did not face her. “Say naught unless you mean it. I am but a man.”
Shaking with what she’d almost allowed, aching with needs unfulfilled, Emma struggled to admit what her body desired, what her heart yearned to feel. How did she explain that the shock of an intimate touch ignited flashes of the rape during her youth? And of the endless hours afterward, when she’d lain abandoned, bleeding in the shadows upon the cold, filthy stone.
At her silence, Patrik nodded. “So be it.” He strode to a shield of rocks, withdrew blankets hidden behind them. In the clearing, he spread them out.
He was upset, how could he not be? She’d believed herself strong enough to be with a man and was wrong. “I am sorry.”
Storm-filled eyes met hers. “Do not be. My wanting you does not make the time right.”
“As if there will ever be a time right for either of us?” The words spilled out before she could stop them. “Forgive me. I should not have spoken.”
“Why? On the morrow we will part, never again to see each other. I should not have pushed you to choices you are not ready for.” He nodded. “For that I am sorry.”
He referred to her supposed rape by the English knights. Guilt swept through her.
Patrik walked over, placed a gentle kiss upon her lips. “Go to sleep, Cristina. If you should want to talk, I have been known to be a good listener.” He walked to the fire and sat before the flames, his back toward her.
Damn him and his honorable ways! “I want you as well.”
He tensed.
“Never has a man kissed me like you.” At his silence, anger trampled over caution. “I want you to make love with me, but I know not if I can.”
Patrik shoved to his feet. With quiet steps he walked over. Dark eyes assessed her, softened. “Tell me.”
