Page 82 of Desire's Ransom
Chapter 22
The water was still up to Temair’s knees when she stopped. Ryland was looking at her strangely. No one had ever looked at her like that before. His glance flickered down over her body and then back up. When his eyes returned to hers, they reflected a solemn, intense hunger, like that of a starving wolf about to devour her.
She should have been frightened. She was alone. Weaponless. With a man who could easily overpower her. A man who saw her as his captor.
Worse, it suddenly occurred to her that she’d led him to a place where he could escape and easily find his way back to the tower house. She’d been weak and foolish.
Yet that was not how his gaze made her feel. It made her feel desirable, powerful, irresistible.
Her eyes lingered on his mouth. She remembered the flavor of him. She wanted that again—to taste the water on his lips, to thaw at the heat of his tongue, to feel the pressure of his hips and the urging of his fingers.
In her mind, she came to him.
In truth, it was Ryland who crossed the space between them. Throwing caution aside, he walked boldly into the water, caught her head between his hands, and sealed the desire burning between them with a kiss that singed her senses and melted her into a helpless puddle.
Enraptured, she plunged her fingers into his wet hair. She gasped against his mouth as his tongue touched hers, and it seemed a flame licked at her soul, branding her.
His fingers drifted down, sweeping her face, grazing her chin, wrapping around her throat. She gulped. His hands were large enough to strangle her or snap her neck.
But he didn’t. He let his thumbs slide down past the racing pulse of her throat to delve into the shallow crevice between her breasts. She sighed, arching her back in invitation.
Flattening his palms, he moved his hands with eager tenderness over her breasts, rasping against the sensitive crests. She groaned at the lovely sensation. His answering groan incited her to more erotic heights.
Breaking from the kiss, she let her head fall back, offering her bosom to him. He leaned forward, lowering his lips to her throat, licking the droplets from her skin.
Slowly he worked his way down, bestowing kisses on her bosom, gently peeling back the edges of herléineas she begged wordlessly to be bared for his touch.
His thumb at last slipped beneath herléineto brush across her breast, to the peak where her desire was centered. Her gasp turned into a moan as he lowered his head to envelop her between his warm, searching lips.
The tips of her fingers dug into the tense muscles of his upper arms as he moved to give the same sweet attention to her other breast.
When his mouth returned to hers, she clawed his wet shirt from his shoulders, wanting,needingto feel his hot flesh against hers.
With frantic fingers, she pushed down the top of herléine, freeing her breasts. Then she surged forward in a lusty collision with his muscled chest.
The sensation was more divine than she’d imagined. Though he was strong and solid, his flesh was warm and yielding. A sensual comfort surrounded her, as if she were bathing in rich, heavy cream.
Yet within that comfort throbbed a new longing. An itch betwixt her thighs. A yearning deep in her womb.
As if he sensed her pain, he grunted and moved his hand down her stomach toward the source of her distress. Even through the linen, his fingers found and pressed that aching part of her with unerring precision.
Resting her brow on his shoulder, she squeezed her eyes shut and buried a sob of delight against his chest.
He growled and hefted her up by her waist.
She instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips. But even as she rejoiced at his bold advance and the intimate contact, she cursed the hindrance of her skirts. To her dismay, she found that simultaneously clinging to him, kissing him, and moving her sopping garments out of the way proved impossible. She writhed in passionate frustration…and accidentally threw him off-balance.
He staggered on the rocks. At that same instant, she heard the unmistakable sounds of someone coming through the forest. She stiffened and tried to scramble down.
Burdened by her extra weight and thrown off-kilter by her movement, Ryland lost his footing a second time. This time, he couldn’t regain his balance. Together, they tumbled into the water with a loud splash.
It was probably for the best. The intruder was Aife, returning from the tower house. Spotting Ryland and Temair as soon as she started across the log bridge, she stopped with a gasp. As the two of them scrambled up to the shallow streambed, struggling to put their clothes back in order, Aife looked from one to the other, unsure what to say.
Ryland made a valiant attempt to put things to rights. Unfortunately, so did Temair. And they spoke at the same time.
“I feared she was drowning,” he said.
“I’ve been teachin’ him how to swim,” she said.
