Page 80 of The Last Warrior

He said, “Ah,” and in his haste to remove his shirt, he practically tore the thing off him, throwing it to the side.

Immediately her gaze was caught by the view of a very male, very muscular chest. How would his skin feel against her fingertips? As she reached out to touch him, she noticed at once the differences in their skin texture and tones.

Hers was light against his. Too light, she thought. Indeed, at this moment, she believed his skin was the handsomer of the two by far.

His muscles were hard as she spread her fingertips over him, and she yearned to feel the texture of his chest against her own. Immediately, she sat up, and intent on making this a reality, she hugged him, nestling her head in the crook of his neck.

But it still wasn’t as close as she had hoped, perhaps because she was fully clothed.

At once, she applied herself to the task of taking off her own clothes, and though she was daintier and slower at the act of stripping than he had been, the buttons on her jacket came undone easily, and she shrugged out of it. However, there were layers of other clothing beneath.

He was frowning at them. “Why do you wear so many garments?”

“’Tis the style, I fear. But the clothes do keep a body warm.”

“Perhaps. Yet so many of them hinder free movement.”

“And are a bother to remove as well.” She smiled up at him.

He grinned back at her. “It is true, I think.”

Together they set to work over the buttons of her blouse, and she thought she had never seen a more delighted look come to a man’s face when he discovered she had set out on this trip without a corset.

“It was just too much of a bother,” she explained.

“I am glad of the bother.” He slid the straps of her chemise down over her arms and off. At once, the undergarment dropped to her waist, revealing her femininity to his hungry gaze.

And he did admire her.

After a moment, he said, “You realize that if we go farther than this, neither one of us will be able to stop, until…”

She didn’t comment.

He continued, “I say this as a warning, so if you object to what we do, you should tell me while I still have the will to stop.”

“I appreciate your saying this to me. And I should stop, but…”

He lifted an eyebrow. “But?”

“I…want you.”

His reaction to her simple statement was a groan—a sound much too sensuous for her peace of mind. He laid her back against their fragrant pine mat and set to work kneading her soft and exposed feminine mounds, his lips following where his hands led. First he adored one breast with kiss upon kiss, then the other. Then, while his lips paid tribute to her, his fingers were already working over the buttons on her trousers.

At last it was done, and he came up over her to press another hot, wet kiss on her lips. She gloried in his fresh taste, musky and masculine, and in response she surged upward, determined to feel as much of his skin against her as she could. He acquiesced with no protest, and as soon as his flesh met hers, her pulse kicked into double time. So stirred was she by him, she forgot to think.

Back and forth, up and down, chest to chest, they reveled against each other, dancing to a rhythm of their own. He growled softly in her ear, “It feels so good.”

“Hmm,” she mumbled, unable to utter anything intelligently.

“Are you ready for more?”

“Please,” she begged.

Coming up onto his knees at her side, he reached down to urge her trousers and pantalettes over her thighs, her calves, her feet. While the cooler air assailed the lower part of her body, she was dismayed to see he still wore breechcloth and leggings.

“You are almost fully clothed,” she commented.

“Hau, it is true. Soon, I will lay naked with you, but for now, I would admire you.”