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“All. Yours.” Teeth gritted. Stomach clenching. Mina’s small hand wrapped around his cock was the most arousing thing he’d ever seen.
He watched her face as she stared down, concentrating on her task, just as she’d focused on the bookshelves when she knew there was a secret room to find.
It wouldn’t take her nearly as long to unlock him.
He gripped the sides of the copper tub, his hips jerking.
“I saw you touch yourself,” she said. “You like it strong and fast.”
Her pace increased and he groaned. “Mina. That’s so good.” He lifted his head and found her lips, craving the feeling of being inside her with his tongue.
His stomach tensed and dots danced in front of his eyelids. His orgasm crept up his thighs, and down from his belly, gathering in his bollocks.
He’d have to let go soon.
He lifted his hips and thrust into her hand, using the copper tub to support his weight.
“I want to be inside you, Mina,” he growled.
“I want that too,” she whispered. “I’m thinking about it right now.”
He came hard, shooting his seed over her fingers, into the bathwater. Ribbons of pleasure tied in silken knots and then unfurled inside him, filling his senses and rushing his heart with warmth.
“So that’s what the finishing looks like,” she said.
He opened his eyes.
She was still holding him, lightly stroking, and staring down in fascination.
“I was wondering what it looked like. You moved away from the window before I could see.”
He sighed, pleasure still coursing through his veins. “I really need that towel now.”
Drew was drying himself by the fire. He hadn’t put his shirt on yet. He stood there in thin undergarments and bare chest, looking so delectable that Mina wanted to lick him dry with her tongue.
Damn his moonlit eyes, he was handsome.
All that long, lean male. She’d had him in her grip. The power of it had gone to her head. Made her feel drunk—languid and languorous—but with a greedy desire for more power. More pleasure.
His... and hers.
She knew this was a dangerous game, but she wanted more. She wanted to dance right on the edge of disaster, so she sat on the edge of his bed. There were chairs available but she was sleepy and dreamy and a bed seemed like the right choice.
The sharp edges of life had been filed away, softened, and now really what was there to do but find a way to kiss Drew again?
“Corbyn also gave me that jug of brandy on the table,” she pointed out.
“That was to take the edge of tension away from all that traveling. I’m feeling much more relaxed now.”
“Less tense?”
“Minx. You know what you did.”
“I’m feeling a little tense myself.” She lay back on the pillows.
“Here, have some brandy.” He held out a glass.
When she didn’t move, he scooped his arm under her neck and brought her to a seated position. “Brandy, Mina. Not beds.”
