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She closed her eyes, picturing him as he was right this instant. Knew she’d remember always.
“Forget the silks I promised you. I prefer you just like this,” he murmured.
Her eyes snapped open on a smile. “That’s right. You did promise me, didn’t you? I should have known they were so many empty words.” She lifted her head to nip his chin.
He skimmed his hand down over the flat of her stomach. “I’ve warned you more than once, I’m an unreliable, selfish bastard, but I’m beginning to think you like the bad boy.” His eyes gleamed with mischief, that devilish dimple aching to be kissed.
Words were lost as sensation took over. As Brendan rose up on his knees to pull free the ribbons of her garters. As he rolled her stockings down over her calves, his hands gliding over the exposed flesh before he retraced his way up her inner thighs. To the junction of her legs. The feather-light touch there sent lightning shooting through her like a live charge. Her hips rose off the bed in an unconscious response to his seduction. Her center hot and wet and throbbing for him, every second the pressure building low within her.
And then he was gone, rolling off the bed and into the shadows. She heard the thud of boots, the shush of discarded clothing as breeches and shirt came off. And then he was back, his weight upon the bed, the fierce heat of his naked body like an inferno.
He came over her, the lean muscles of his hard-packed body perfect against hers. His right shoulder still wrapped in a thin bandage, he held himself awkwardly, but like a coiled spring still managed to radiate strength and power. He paused above her, his body between her legs, his sun-gold eyes stabbing her straight to the heart.
So close, she felt him just there. The torment of his sudden hesitation agonizing.
His gaze dimmed. “Say the word, Lissa. Say the word, and I can still leave you.” He ground his teeth. “It’ll hurt like the devil, but I’ll do it,” he moaned.
“No words. Not tonight.” Smiling, she lifted her hips, taking him into her. He entered slowly, stretching her inch by excruciating inch. Letting her adjust to the sensation of their joined bodies, the thrill of him inside her. To this mind-bending exhilaration sweeping her along now, the river in spate.
She gasped at a sudden sharp sting, Brendan hovering unmoving over her in the dark. Clearly letting her make the first move. Take the first step forward. Slowly, tentatively, she rocked forward, the only feeling now one of longing as Brendan silently exhaled on a slow, ragged breath.
An inexorable headlong weight built inside her as he withdrew. Entered her deeper. She arched into him in a slow building rhythm, digging her nails into his arms, her breath coming fast, her vision dancing with fire and light and color as waves slowly built behind this tightening quickening urge.
His kisses deepened as he drove harder, faster, her breathing becoming a pant and then a moan as every thrust sent her spinning closer to that cliff edge. And then it was there. In front of her. She felt herself tumbling. Up and up, the rush of her heart drowning out her cries. Her body alight with a pleasure-pain she never knew existed.
As he shuddered, his eyes squeezed shut, his body taut as a cocked bow, she ground once more against him, and the two found release together.
They lay spooned together, their bodies cooling in the breeze from an open window. Brendan’s arm slung over her hip, his fingers tracing a lazy path up and down her side.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“You mean I did it wrong?” she asked.
“Oh no, my dear. You did everything exactly right. Too right. I shouldn’t have allowed it to go as far as it did. We’re not married yet.”
His chest pressed against her back, his breath tickling her neck. “I know you’re only marrying me because you have to,” she said.
“Is that what you know?” he teased, tickling her side until she screamed, writhing to escape him.
“Stop. No, Brendan. Don’t—” she pleaded. “I surrender. I surrender.”
“That’ll teach you”—he dropped a kiss at the nape of her neck—“to try to tell me why I’m marrying you.”
“Well, you obviously weren’t too thrilled about it the last time. And nothing’s changed. I’m still me. And you’re still you.”
“How profound we become after sex. I’ll remember that.” He squeezed her tight.
That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She wanted to hear I love you. Fool that she was.
She rolled over, his chest hard against hers. The sleek lines of his shoulders melting into the lean, corded muscles of his arms. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
He chuckled, dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose. “That’s supposed to be my line.”
She blushed. “I meant your shoulder.”
He gave a look of sudden comprehension. “Ah, the shoulder.” He flexed his bandaged arm, windmilled it up over his head, wiggled his fingers. “That dried monkey tongue Madame Arana gave me really did the trick.”
“Monkey tong—Brendan! She gave you no such thing.”
