Page 71 of No One's Bride
While the action tore a guttural groan from him, she froze.
Guilt ripped through him. He stilled to allow her time to breathe. “You need to move. You need to ride me, love. I swear the pain will subside if you keep to a gentle rhythm.”
“’Tis nae pain I’m feeling.”
“What then?”
“It doesnae matter.”
Did she feel this strange form of possessiveness, too? Did she want to own him, lock him in her bedchamber and throw away the key? Did she fear one night of passion would not ease the crippling ache? Was an otherworldly force in control of their actions?
He might have analysed every question, but Ailsa began moving, rising up on her knees and sinking slowly back down.
The sight of her held him enthralled.
The rain fell, drenching their skin. A sudden gust of wind shook the boughs of the cherry tree, showering them in pretty white and pink petals. Never had he experienced such a wicked ravishment.
As she became accustomed to the feel of his cock pumping hot and deep into her soft flesh, desperation surfaced.
They kissed until they couldn’t breathe.
He devoured her breasts, stroked her throbbing bud, pounded into her fast and hard, impaling her with unbridled savagery.
In a tangle of wet limbs, she milked his manhood, finding her release again with a cry of sweet agony.
God, he couldn’t get enough of this woman.
Somehow, she had found a way under his skin.
He withdrew with barely a second to spare, spilling his seed over her stockings when he wanted to empty himself deep inside her. Brand her. Mark her as his. Stake his claim.
ChapterFourteen
Barefooted and dressed in a clean shirt and trousers, Sebastian returned to the hothouse carrying linen towels and a wool blanket.
Ailsa watched him approach, the heat in her chest rising to her cheeks. He had been gone for a few minutes, yet she’d missed him. She’d missed his smile, missed the glint of passion in his perfect blue eyes.
Despite their rampant lovemaking, lust still coiled low in her belly. The need to feel full with him, to remain forever entwined, brought tears to her eyes and a ripple of fear to her throat.
She had made a foolish mistake.
She had given all of herself, opened her heart, and could not take it back. Thoughts of him filled her head. Nothing mattered but the next touch, the next kiss. She wanted to devour him, consume him.
“Wouldn’t you rather dress before a warm fire?” Along with a hairbrush, he placed the towels on the rickety wooden chair, then draped the blanket around her shoulders and rubbed her arms vigorously. “We can return to the library without anyone noticing.”
“What if Cumpson appears?” Ailsa fought to stop the tears falling. She had never experienced grief, but she would feel the loss of this man keenly.
“He won’t.” He stared at her cold lips, at the tangle of wet copper curls, at the petticoat covering her modesty, and grinned. “You look like a nymph, a siren sent to lure a man from the doldrums with her passionate promises.”
“Forgive me,” she uttered despite her chattering teeth.
She’d thought having him would sate the hunger, but it writhed deep in a place a sworn spinster had no need to navigate.
His smile faded. “For what?”
“For making the coming days harder. For making it impossible to continue our friendship now we’ve been intimate.”
His stoic expression added to the tension. “We’re both adults, Ailsa. Nothing need change. The only difficult thing will be concentrating on the case.”
