Page 64 of Bride of Fire
Never had she felt so awake, so alive.
But she yearned for something else. Something more. Something closer. Something that could never be.
She was his captive. He was her enemy.
She was a noble warrior maid. He was a crude Highlander.
She was a virgin. He was a widowed father.
And yet none of that mattered when her flesh felt on fire and every sense was attuned to his slightest movement.
How long she languished, listening to his deep breaths, feeling them rasp across her skin, melting beneath the searing pleasure of his touch, she didn’t know.
Eventually, fatigue overcame her. And then, the sleep she enjoyed was deep and untroubled by dreams.
Chapter 32
Before Morgan opened his eyes, he smiled in contentment. There was nothing as peaceful and satisfying as lying with a woman drawn back against his chest, enfolded in his arms. For a few moments, he enjoyed that serenity.
Her soft hair tickled his nose.
Her breast rested like a pillow in his hand.
Her buttocks cradled him where he swelled against her.
And her scent…
Nay. That wasn’t right.
Alicia always smelled like roses.
This was a spicy, musky scent.
He cracked open his eyelids a fraction of an inch.
His face was nuzzled, not in Alicia’s black braid, but in loose curls of dark golden honey.
Heartache stabbed him first. For a few precious moments, he’d been with Alicia again. But now that pleasant dream had been ripped from him.
Then the woman in his arms stirred. She made a soft, sleepy moan and snuggled closer. Her arm hugged his hand tighter to her breast. Her buttocks nestled, warm and inviting, against his cock.
He sucked in a ragged breath.
It had been months since he’d exercised the beast between his legs. While Alicia was breeding, she’d had no interest in sharing his bed. He’d been patient, knowing the birth of their child was momentous, more important than satisfying carnal hungers.
But that abstinence had served to increase his need to a fever pitch. He was as hard as a lance. And there was a dull throbbing in his ballocks that only one thing could relieve.
He knew it was wrong. Alicia had been gone but a few months. It was too soon. And he was ashamed. He’d never been a man to be commanded by such base needs.
And yet, lying here in the dawn’s pale light, their limbs entangled, their breath mingling, her scent so intoxicating, it was hard to believe that his desire for her was so unnatural, so terrible.
Alicia was dead, after all.
Nothing he did or did not do would ever change that.
He was certain he’d never love again. The loss of a wife was too painful to endure a second time. And to be honest, now that he had a healthy heir, there was no need to remarry. Despite Colban’s urging that he move on with his life and Bethac’s incessant search for a mate for him.
Swiving, on the other hand…
