Page 97 of Hexbound
He watched, lips parting as if he wanted to say something, but still restraining himself. Still clenching every muscle in his body, as though he fought some kind of internal war. "I haven't tested the manacles yet."
"Then consider me your willing test subject." One last pin dropped to the ground with a tinny clang. Verity's hands dropped to the silk night-robe she wore, and with a little shimmy of her shoulders, she let it slide to the floor.
Bishop inhaled sharply. Though she still wore her cotton nightgown, she knew that the fire backlit her—indeed, she'd deliberately placed herself in front of it. Cotton draped over her bottom and wisped between her thighs. Every nerve in her body was suddenly alight, her nipples pebbling behind the thin material.
"Verity." He took a step toward her. "Move away from the grate."
And she realized that he was not entirely overcome with lust, but assaulted by dark memories from the past.
She'd planned a slow seduction, a delicate unveiling, button by button. But now she wouldn't have that chance, for his gaze had turned to the treacherous grate, the crackle of the logs there. Bending over, Verity caught the bottom of her nightgown and whipped it over her head.
Then she tossed it at his chest.
The fabric slapped against his shirt, and Bishop caught her nightgown, but she was fairly certain that reaction was thanks to pure instinct. He slammed to a halt, his jaw dropping as she stood there in all of her naked glory.
With but a single action, she, Verity Hawkins, had reduced him to a statue. One with at least something in common with Priapus.
She smiled.
The heavy pendant she'd stolen three years ago hung between her naked breasts, firelight warming her skin. Verity turned so that he could see all of her, a proud pirouette, glancing over her shoulder to absorb his reaction as she flaunted herself. His gaze roved over her skin, a heated flush darkening his cheeks, and his cock hard and proud behind the restraining tent of his trousers.
Bishop barely dared breathe. "You look.... You—" He cleared his throat. "I'm...."
Entirely satisfactory. The man had lost all of his wits. Verity crooked a finger at him. "Now it's your turn, my lord," she all but purred.
He clutched her nightgown to his chest.
Swallowed.
"Don’t be shy,” Verity teased. Bishop’s gaze dropped. To her breasts, then the small thatch of hair between her thighs. There was no doubt on his face anymore.
“I’m not shy.” He tossed her nightgown aside and caught her wrist, dragging her into his arms.
Hot hands slid down her body, pressing her against his firm frame. Verity plucked at his shirt as he kissed her, tugging the buttons open impatiently. She’d caught glimpses of his magnificent body on display in that ice bath, but she’d never gotten a chance to explore it in detail.
Shoving his shirt off his shoulders, she moaned into his mouth. “You’re getting very good at this kissing,” she whispered, and then squealed as he lifted her up into his arms and laid her on the fur in front of the fire.
Verity laughed as he curled over her, kissing her again.
Bishop lifted his head, breathing hard. Muscle strained in his biceps. She could spend all day looking at him. Touching him.
"What's wrong?" she whispered.
Bishop closed his eyes. "I think I'm dreaming."
"Not yet, you're not." She plucked at the buttons on his pants, tugging them down his lean hips. Shoving a hand to his shoulder, she sent him sprawling flat on his back, and then cast his pants aside.
"Tell me, if this were your dream, what would you want me to do?" Verity asked, sliding her hands up the flat planes of his abdomen.
“I would tell you not to stop. Never to stop.” Capturing her body in his arms, he hauled her atop him until she straddled his thighs. “Ver.” His expression turned serious as he brushed a strand of hair off her shoulder, revealing the smooth slope of her breast. “I’m glad it’s you.”
One tasteof her would never be enough.
It was that one truth that consumed him as Verity laid waste to every inch of control he owned.
Just one night. That was all he allowed himself to focus on.
So he kissed her in the way he'd always wanted to, tasting the salt of his body on her lips and feeling the slick skin of her sweet curves pressed against his flesh. He was drowning in his need for her, his cock hardening even as the sweet wetness between her thighs pressed against him.
