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All those reasons which had prevented them from marrying before, came to life in the darkened corners of their small room. Nothing had changed for him. Not really. She’d caught him in a moment of weakness, and desire.
Shelene went to her knees, then boldly straddled him, allowing some instinct to guide her.I can do this, she thought,because I have changed.
She could be the wife that exceeded his expectations, that provided for him physically and intellectually. To provide a welcoming home and fine children. She’d been taught duty and honor and she would fulfill every requirement demanded of a Spanish wife.
More so, she would find the secrets that would entice Roman to bond with her and conclude his fealty to an unappreciative and cruel mistress.
When his hands slid up her thighs, she knew she was doing something right.
She squirmed a little and felt the unfamiliar hardness between her legs.
“Tell me if I’m doing it wrong. Help me,” she whispered.
“It’s impossible to do wrong.” He laughed, then let out a deep breath. He cupped her face. “You know why we shouldn’t do this. It is for your benefit I resist.”
“No. This will bind us together. Forever, as we swore in our vows.”
“Shelene, we were bound together before we ever said those vows in front of the priest. Long, long before.”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “Show me.”
His eyes, seductive and dark on an average afternoon, looked positively wicked in the light of one candle. Long lashes swept low as he squinted up at her. Black brows creased, his examination thorough.
He soothed one hand over her covered breast and eased the material down her arm, then plied the same treatment to her other arm, divesting her of what little protection she had. Then he lifted the remaining light rail and tossed it aside.
She wanted to hide her breasts; instead she braced her hands against his wide, hard chest. The tickle of hair between her fingers was as sexual as the firmness between her legs. He stroked her legs again, up the inside of her thigh and then around to her bum. He squeezed.
For a moment, she wanted to hide.
His hands explored, up her back, down her arms, then…
He slipped his fingers between her legs and caressed the soft, wet folds. She gasped and clenched her thighs. Air escaped in a harsh, unnerving gust. She stared at the bed canopy overhead, gasping for breath. All the while, he kept at the steady stroking. She shivered with the chill of the illicit touch.
Whatever was happening to her, she wanted more. Rocking against his manhood alleviated some of the devastating need but prevented him from playing with the sensitive nub.
There was more and she wanted it.
Roman grasped her about the waist, rolled her and was on top once again. Something had changed in him. Desire burned in his gaze. His skin blazed with heat. There was no further hesitation. He was past his denials.
With one quick, unexpected thrust, he’d entered her.
She gasped but felt no pain, only the pressure of fullness.
He lowered his head, took a breath, then stared into her eyes. “There’s no going back now.”
“Never,” she said, always knowing this was how it should be.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, this time gritting his teeth.
She shook her head. Cupping one hand against the side of his face, she smiled.
Roman moved his hips, a slow in-and-out that caused Shelene to realize one thing: she knew nothing.
She slipped her fingers into his silky hair and pulled hard. Her breath came in burning gasps. Roman’s face was buried in that hollow between her shoulder and neck. He groaned with each push, losing himself. Finally forgetting about those things that demanded his time and attention and devotion.
The change was palpable, and she reveled in his manly nature.
She surged against Roman, hip to hip, meeting his thrusts, relaxing as he pulled out.
