Page 68 of One Night with a Prince
“Think what you want.” He swiftly turned her around so he could undo her laces, then strip off her corset. When she faced him once more, his eyes scoured her, hungry, needy…possessive.
“Admit it, Byrne,” she prodded. “Admit that—”
He shut her up with a kiss, probably so he could remove her chemise and drawers without her protesting. Then he shamelessly fondled her breasts and her belly, sliding his clever, seeking hand between her legs…
Wrenching her mouth from his, she caught his hand to stay it. “Say the words. ‘I was jealous.’ Three words.”
His eyes looked almost black in the dimly lit room. “I’ll say it if you promise to spend your nights with me. To do your searching only with me.”
“You know I won’t promise that.”
“Ah, but you will, my sweet,” he rasped. “I’ll make sure of it.” Taking her by surprise, he caught her naked body up in his arms and carried her to the bed.
When he tossed her down atop the coverlet and tore off his coat, she considered whether to run, to escape him while she still could. But she wasn’t ready to give up on him. Tonight she’d seen a glimmer of another Byrne, an uncontrolled one consumed by anger and jealousy. And passion. He stripped quickly, raking her with a gaze so fierce and raw that it made her nipples ache. Yet she didn’t fight the heated wine of desire flooding her senses. She lay there, relishing the sight of him baring his body in great strokes, like a painter working in a frenzy to reveal a corded thigh here, a bent elbow there.
For days, she’d worried that if they made love, he’d gain the power over her that he needed to discover—and exploit—her secrets. But might it not work both ways? If Byrne were capable of true caring, satisfying his desires might give her power as well. Power over him. The power to convince him that helping her was more noble than seeking to use her letters. A power she might already have. “Admit that you were jealous,” she pressed him. “Admit that you hated the sight of me with Lord Stokely.”
“Promise me you’ll never go off alone,” he countered gruffly. Now naked, he joined her in the bed, lying on his side so he could caress her breast. “Promise me, lass.”
“First admit you were jealous.” Turning onto her side, she ran her hand down the line of hair on his belly until she reached the heavy length of him. As she clasped his magnificent erection, she whispered, “Admit it, Byrne.”
Before she could even stroke him once, he caught her hand. “Oh, no, we’re not playingthat game again, you teasing wench.”
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlPressing her back, he used one of his hands to imprison both of hers above her head. Then he bent his mouth to her breasts and began to suck and tongue her nipples while his other hand found the yearning spot between her thighs and tormented it with silken touches and teasing caresses that were never enough to satisfy.
“Promise me,” he tore his lips from her breast to growl. And all the while he roused her to a fever pitch of need, making her squirm and writhe and beg for more with thrusts of her hips against his too-gentle hand.
Yet still she managed to gasp, “Admit it…admit it and…I’ll promise…whatever you wish.”
“Damn you,” he ground out as he hovered over her, inches from her mouth. “Damn you for being a stubborn minx.”
She stretched up to kiss him, and he seized her mouth with a groan, slaking only some of her thirst with bold thrusts of his tongue. He insinuated one knee between her thighs, and she parted her legs to accommodate him.
Still kissing her, he braced himself above her so that his erection lay on her, warm, thick, promising release as he stroked it up and down against that tender little spot that throbbed and ached for him.
“Promise me,” he rasped against her mouth. “Promise me, lass.”
She slid her freed hand down between them to grab his shaft, then gave it a long stroke she knew would drive him mad.
“Stop that,” he hissed.
“Admit it.” She matched his earlier, too-gentle strokes, caressing him as if he were as fragile as glass.
“Admit you were jealous.”
His gaze seared her even as he thrust against her hand. “No.” He tried to pull her hand free, but she had a firm grip and wasn’t letting go this time.
She rubbed her hard-tipped nipples against his chest, then arched up to his ear to whisper, “Admit it, Byrne.” Remembering what he’d done earlier, she laved his ear with her tongue. “Come on, admit it.”
When she capped her sensuous assault with a torturously slow tug on his aroused flesh, he moaned, then said hoarsely, “All right, damn you, I admit it. Now let go.”
She did, but though he probed between her legs with his shaft, she shifted her pelvis away, not quite satisfied with his answer. “Say the whole thing.”
With jaw taut and eyes ablaze, he snapped, “Promise me you won’t go anywhere here without me.”
“I promise.” She should at least give him that much.
Satisfaction filled his face. Reaching down, he found her entrance with his fingers, then drove his aroused flesh deep inside her. A groan of sheer pleasure erupted from his lips. “You’re so tight and hot, my sweet. It feels so damned good to be inside you.”
