Page 91 of Desire's Ransom
“Are you sure?”
“Aye.”
“Because I can—”
“Aye!” She groaned in relief when he replaced his hand.
“Shh,” he said on a laugh. “They’ll all come running in, thinking I’ve molested you.”
“Yearemolestin’ me.”
“Aye, that I am.”
As he continued to rub across her—sometimes in long, fluid motions, sometimes in flurries that made her tighten and swell as if she might burst—she felt an increasing ache deep inside, a yearning for something more.
Still, a tiny voice of reason spoke to her in the haze of passion. She knew she should pay heed to it.
“I should tell ye,” she gasped out. “I’m a virgin.”
“I should tell you,” he replied. “I’m not.” Then he smiled, kissed her tenderly on the brow, and promised, “On my honor as a knight, I vow I’ll be gentle.”
She shuddered as a particularly strong wave of desire surged inside her. “I can’t make ye the same promise.”
He must have sensed something then, for he slipped his hand away and murmured against her hair, “Let’s find a softer place.”
There was a stack of straw-stuffed pallets beside the cave wall. He quickly pulled one down and threw one of the winter coverlets over it to form a makeshift bed. He helped her onto the mattress.
For a moment, she felt too vulnerable, too exposed. Without her armor, on her back, she was at his mercy. He loomed over her—a massive, rutting beast that could smother her with the coverlet or throttle her with one hand.
But in the next instant, her fears were put to rest. With exquisite tenderness, he cradled the back of her head in one hand, brushing the hair from her brow with the other. By the faint firelight flickering through the vines, she could see him gazing down at her with such adoration that it took her breath away.
He bestowed upon her a sweet kiss, not of lust, but of cherishing…a kiss so full of love and wonder that it made her feel like a precious jewel in his hands.
Slowly, he reached beneath his long linen shirt to untie hischausses, removing them and hisbraies, and freeing his staff. Then he stretched out beside her, propped on one forearm.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.
His words moved her.
“May I?” he asked, lifting the hem of herléine.
Amused by his polite request, she took theléineoff over her head herself.
To her satisfaction, his gaze turned smoky. He used his free hand to trace her contours, leaving ripples of desire everywhere his fingertips touched, until she was quivering with need.
“May I?” she asked him, snagging the hem of his shirt.
His smile twisted, and he bent down to let her do the deed.
She was unprepared for the effect the sight of his broad shoulders and naked chest would have upon her. While it was true he possessed nothing that not every man possessed, somehow he was different—more powerful, more magnificent, more commanding.
And the quick glimpse she’d had that night of what nestled in his black curls hadn’t prepared her for the bold manifestation of his hunger for her.
Her eyes widened. Her heart throbbed. Her breath quickened.
“Are you afraid, m’lady?” he whispered.
She shook her head. She wasn’t afraid. She was aroused.
