Did his hands tremble as he drew her night rail over her head and sent it sailing away like so much spider webbing? He leaned over her, gazing at her with something akin to reverence.
“Ye be so beautiful.” He touched her carefully, shoulder, breast, thigh. She began to quiver, not with fear but need.
“Alan, please.”
“Say my name again.”
“Alan.Husband.”
He came down upon her, his weight one of the most glorious things she’d ever felt. Though she’d expected the act to be quick and brusque—like that of farm stock—he began kissing her instead, wooing her all over again with lavish desire.
Only moans ensued, with their mouths fused. Demand on her part. Agreement on his.
When he nudged her knees apart and positioned himself between them, she flushed with heat, so great was her need. She felt half mad for want of him.
She felt it, though, when a pertinent part of him nudged for admittance. She would have gasped for air, but his tongue was in her mouth, deep. And then another part of him was inside her also.
Oh.
Oh!
Nothing like what she’d imagined. Not violent, nay, but so, so powerful as he pierced her and they began rocking together, the motion sending him ever deeper with no more than a pinch of pain. And then rightness so complete it engulfed her and swallowed her whole.
Her body, strong, and alive, and certain, rose on the wings of pleasure so intense, her mind fair exploded with it. Her mind and her body.
Changed, she was, never to be the same woman again.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Regret never hit Alan till after, once the overmastering impulses had been satisfied and a measure of sense returned to his mind. After he’d acted upon the demands of his body—and, let it be admitted, hers—and emptied himself inside her. And thoughts of the possible consequences filtered in.
Och, what had he done?
Given in to his most basic impulses. The way Evan always did.
Ah, but she was warm and welcoming and smelled like heaven, every part of her an invitation if not, aye, a demand. Her mouth, hot and sweet. Her breasts soft. And down below…
Damn it, his thoughts had him growing hard again. Already.
He’d meant to withdraw before spilling his seed. The last thing they wanted was the tangible connection of a child between them. And yet—was she not his wife?
She lay very still beneath him, only her breasts rising and falling as she sought to catch her breath. Glorious breasts, with nipples that peaked against his tongue.
Ah, God.
What would she say to him now? What could he say? Would she claim that was not what she had wanted?
He shifted onto his side, to ease his weight from her and relieve the pull of his wound which, till this very moment, he had not even felt. She sighed and spoke, her first words proving their minds, if not their bodies, still moved in tandem.
“Did ye harm yoursel’ wi’ all that? Let me see.” She ran the palm of her hand down his chest to the bandaging. Squinting down at it, he saw it was tinged red.
“Ye’re bleeding. Does it hurt?”
“Nay. To tell ye the truth, I forgot all about it.”
He had to touch her. He brushed the thick brown hair back from her cheek. Their gazes met and held.
She whispered, “I should no’ ha’ asked—not injured as ye are.”
