Page 62 of Ashes of Betrayal

Her hands slid up to his face too, her palms cupping his cheeks, where stubble rasped across her skin. Their lips parted, their tongues entwining. The masculine scent of him invaded her senses, and the heat of his mouth drew her in.

She linked her arms around his neck now, craving more.

Cailean answered by pressing the full length of his body against hers.

Groaning against his mouth, she parted her legs, wrapping them around his hips. The kiss was still tender, still exquisitely slow, yet desire clenched in her gut.

Ancestors, how she wanted him. She would never stop wanting him. Not until the long years of her life faded to mist and shadow.

She felt his arousal then—a thick, hard column against her belly—and ground herself against it. She did so slowly though, matching the unhurried exploration of their mouths. Bree didn’t want to rush this.

Eventually, as Cailean continued to kiss her, his hands moved down, unlacing her leather vest. He then slid it off her before drawing up the woolen tunic he’d bought her in Morae.

Murmuring an endearment, her husband bent his head. An instant later, his hot mouth drew one of her nipples in, sucking and pulling at it with languorous, sensual intent that made her whimper.

She watched then as he sucked her other breast while stroking the naked skin of her torso. Bree started to tremble. His hands, big and calloused, were so gentle tonight, so warm. And every caress of his palms against her skin felt as if he was claiming her.

Sighing, she reached for the laces of his breeches. A moment later, she drew the scalding hot length of his erection free, sliding her fingertips over the satiny skin. The crown was leaking, and she gently rubbed her palm over its slickness.

Cailean’s low groan rumbled in his throat.

Meanwhile, Bree heeled off her boots and let him undo the close-fitting leather leggings she wore. He slid them down over the swell of her hips. She then kicked them off. She now leaned against the cold wall, naked, while Cailean was still clothed.

His gaze raked over her bare skin, burning into her. He then stepped back and divested himself of his vest, breeches, and boots. Gloriously nude, the firelight playing across the bulges ofhis biceps and the sculpted muscles of his chest, he stepped into Bree once more, gathering her against him.

Their mouths found each other again, still tender, yet with more urgency now.

“Bree,” he groaned as he slid his hands over the dips and curves of her body. “Mine.”

“Aye,” she whispered against his lips. “Yours.”

He nudged her thighs apart with his knee then, a hand slipping between them. His thumb circled and stroked her slickness—the pad grazing her most sensitive spot—and suddenly, Bree was trembling. Her legs could barely support her now. Heat washed over her, sweat beading upon her skin. His touch was devastating. The pressure in her chest tightened further, for the emotion building there was too powerful to be contained.

Cailean’s eyes gleamed in the firelight, unnaturally bright. His hands traveled down the long curve of her spine then, cupping her arse possessively. He lifted her up, and she spread her legs wide to receive him. An instant later, he slid into Bree with aching slowness, filling her inch by delicious inch, until he was buried fully inside her.

Letting out a low, breathy moan, she wrapped her legs around his hips and rolled her own against him, bringing him even deeper.

He gasped—the sound thrilling her, a shudder passing through his strong body—and she repeated the move.

“Wife,” he ground out, gripping her hips as he slowly drew back, letting her feel his thick hard length. “Do that again and this will be over far too soon.”

Bree huffed a breathless laugh. However, she heeded him.

She wanted to savor this coupling, to draw the pleasure out. And Cailean clearly felt the same. Gripping her hips tightly, hewithdrew, almost to the tip, before inching back into her. And then, he repeated it, again and again.

All the while, they stared into each other’s eyes. The intensity of the moment—and what it meant to them both—made an ache rise under her breastbone.

Both their bodies were slick with sweat as Bree clung to Cailean, shudders rippling through her, aching pleasure coiling in her womb. She could feel his tension building too, the vibration of it in his arms, for she gripped his biceps, bracing herself against him as he took her. She was gloriously wet now, heat flooding her loins with every long, sensual slide.

He kept his self-control leashed, plowing her slowly, until she came apart, her hips kicking against his. She writhed on him.

Shades, it was too much. Too good.

She screamed then, intense pleasure rippling and pulsing through her. It turned her inside out, and she clutched at him.

Cursing, Cailean finally let himself go. He plunged into her now in deep, hard, claiming thrusts.

She bucked against him, savage joy blooming in her breast when he bellowed her name, the heat of his release pulsing into her.

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