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She didn’t think he’d answer. He sat, stiff and silent, for what seemed like hours while she watched him. Studied him, really. The curve of his ribs. The sculpted line of each perfect muscle. The arrogant line of his jaw. What he lacked in bulk and breadth, he made up for in lean, corded strength. Gods. He was beautiful. A quicksilver slash of form and grace.
“Cam,” she said slowly, “dreams lose their power if they’re spoken aloud. As do memories.”
He ran a shaky hand down his face. Remained head-down, not meeting her gaze. “She hated me.” His voice flat. Emotionless. “Not at first. But soon enough. She didn’t understand. And I couldn’t make her enjoy it. After a while, she shut me out, and I simply stopped trying.”
Morgan closed her eyes. Wished she could close her ears. Now that she’d begun it, she couldn’t tell him to stop. Secrets of the marriage bed were best left there. She didn’t even want to imagine Cam with Charlotte. An emotion far too much like jealousy knotted her insides.
Cam kept on. “Countless marriages have weathered worse. But I was hurt. Angry. I fled to war.” His words drawn out. Long pauses between. “I don’t think she expected me to return. Perhaps in small part, hoped I wouldn’t. But when I did, and she saw how I’d changed, she grew truly terrified. Got a notion I planned on putting her aside. Or worse. I don’t know, mayhap she’d grown a little mad. Mayhap she’d heard rumors of the brigade and felt threatened by me, though God knows by that time, I wanted nothing to do with her.” He inhaled a deep, shuddering breath. “I’ll never truly know. But in the end, she decided to attack was her best defense.”
The pieces fell into place. Hideous, twisted pieces. “The scar on your back…your leg…you said you got them in the war…. Your own wife did that to you?”
He turned to face her, his eyes diamond-hard yet containing a vulnerability that set her pulse racing. “She was never a wife to me. It was a sham of a marriage from start to finish.” He dropped his head. “Do we have to talk about it? About her?”
“No, I didn’t…”
“I’ll ask you once more, Morgan. Leave, or I won’t be able to let you go.”
An unwelcome excitement surged through her. “You don’t mean it. Not really. It’s only because I’m here and you’ve been dreaming and…”
Her voice faltered and fell away. If she wanted, she could have him. Now. Tonight. Her body thrummed with anticipation. She knew what would happen if she stayed. And all of a sudden, she didn’t care. She ached with unfulfilled need.
Torn between what she should do and what she wanted to do, she waited a moment too long. His hand came up, pushed the loose braid of hair off her shoulders. Caressed the long column of her throat. She shivered
under his touch, her breath caught in her lungs. Her body flushed at the swift flash of desire in his gaze.
“I understand if you don’t trust me.” His thumb brushed away a tear she never felt fall. “I don’t trust myself right now.”
The strength of his touch. The savage vitality chained beneath an elegant facade. Held in check by only the thinnest of restraints. She struggled against the heady combination. Told herself to turn and flee. Escape before it was too late. But the blood roaring in her ears, the prickly tingle of her skin where he touched her drowned everything else out.
“We shouldn’t,” was all she could manage, and that came as a breathy whisper.
“You’re right,” he murmured. His hands were in her hair. His lips upon her throat.
Each second set her more firmly on the wrong path. Straight toward a cliff edge. Gods help her, but this was what she’d wanted for weeks. Now that she had it, she couldn’t bear to let it go.
He pulled at the ribbons of her dressing gown, but she covered his hand with her own. “Wait…Susan…”
Laughter gleamed in his eyes. “We’re married. Remember?”
Words failed her as did every good intention. Here it was, she and Cam. The solid feel of his chest. His heart beating strong and steady beneath her hand. She skimmed the sculpted strength of his body. Traced the hard-packed ridges of his abdomen. The brush of golden hair at his groin. Loving the way he jumped at her touch. The power that came with every slide of her fingers across his skin.
He covered her breasts with his hands. Caressed her through the thin fabric of her shift. Hot. Delicious. A leaping of senses. She arched into him. Greedy for more. “This doesn’t mean anything.” Her words came rushed. “It’s not a declaration. Not a promise. It’s a night. Just a night.”
“Anything,” he repeated, brushing his lips lightly across her mouth, down her cheek, into the hollow of her neck. “Doesn’t mean anything.” He pushed her back onto the bed. Came over her, the leaping pulse in his throat matching her own heart beat for beat.
She tilted her face to his. Fell into the gleaming flicker of his firelit eyes. She’d take what she could while she could. Tomorrow she’d gather up the mantles of duty and responsibility. But not tonight. Tonight she would revel in her wickedness. Drown in the intoxicating, sinful pleasure.
He found the hem of her shift, gathered it to her thighs, slid it over her hips and then up over her head. She lay naked beneath him, excitement shivering through her. Settling deep in her center until she was ready for anything he offered.
His mouth found her breasts. Tongued and sucked the ripe flesh until she moaned. Flames devoured her. A spark touched off by his mouth and the rough stubble of his jaw until it grew to a desperate blaze.
He dropped lower, his teeth skimming her stomach, her thighs. Grazing her sensitive flesh. Setting her stomach tumbling. He pushed her legs wide, dipping to tease the soft folds there, lapping the hot, wet center of her. She moaned, arching into him. Wanting him to end the sweet torture.
He chuckled, lifting his head. Filling her with his fingers. Pushing deep into her before withdrawing. Filling her again and again until she bucked against the spasms that spiraled through her. But he refused to give in, toying with her, holding her captive beneath him as he brought her ever closer to the edge. Sliding out of her, he allowed her space to gather her thoughts. Rolled her up and on top. Let her straddle him, the erect bulge of his cock nestled between her legs.
It was her turn to taste his masculine, sweat and sex-scented skin. To fall into his fathomless, azure blue eyes. She melted into him. Lowering herself onto his shaft. Watching his eyes blacken with need, the shudder ripple through his body as she closed around him. Already she felt the first tremors of climax twisting their way through her. Originating at the junction of their bodies. Racing through her at lightning speed.
She moved, let the slow steady friction build. Let her desire and his hunger grow and tighten like silken cords around both of them. The tempo of each thrust increased. The rhythm of their bodies growing like a rising tide until, crying out, the pleasure-pain ecstasy of joining crashed over her. Pulled her under with the same whirlpool force of a scrying.
