Page 34 of Princess Bride Swap

He turned on a heel. “We best head back.” And he set a quick pace. Perhaps unfairly so. She kept up, but when they returned to the chalet with the afternoon sun beating down on them despite the cold air, she was huffing and puffing. Cheeks and nose red. Eyes watering.

But she didn’t seem the least bit put out as he opened the door and gestured her inside.

“I know we have to leave tomorrow, but perhaps we could do a shorter hike before we do in the morning,” she said, shrugging out of her first layer of coats. “What a wonderful way to start the day.”

He did the same. “If we get up early enough.”

“Then I suppose you shouldn’t keep me up all night.” She smiled at him, a glint of mischief in her eyes that lent themselves toward brown now. But there were hints of green and gold. Hints of other worlds entirely.

Especially when she moved closer, reached out and helped him with his first layer of jackets. Not that he needed her help. But he took it all the same. Particularly when she lifted on her toes and fitted her mouth to his.

Her nose was cold, her mouth was hot. She wrapped herself around him like a vine. Surely it was some kind of spell she put over him, because he did not set her back. He kissed her. Sucked under by the taste of her, thethrillof her.

She met every nip with one of her own. She arched against him. Moaned against him. Until there was only the beat of desire. Only the need formore.

But there were so many layers between them, and the attempt to start getting through them was enough of a reality check to bring him back to himself. To his control.

They would not do this here. There had to belines. Of respectability. Of correct action.

He wrenched himself away from her. Managed to untangle her arms and put some small but necessary space of air between them. It felt like more of a triumph than he should allow himself to feel. He had still kissed her here. Maybe there was no staff, but there were windows. Maybe there was no public here, but he had to be better. Tomorrow they would be in a crowded castle, and he could perhaps excuse some inappropriate kisses with anewlywedphase, but he didn’t want to give anyone a reason to look at him and think he couldn’t control himself.

To look at him and know how little handle he had on his desires for his wife. Because where would that lead? Thanks to the princes that came before, everyone would wonder.

Beau stood there, panting. Looking at him with a hazy desire mixed heavily with confusion. He wanted his hands on her more than his next breath, but he would not give in. He would not be weak.

Divio was his touchstone. Nother. Notthis.

Then she kneeled before him.

CHAPTER TEN

BEAUTHOUGHTHEmight stop her, but he only looked down at her with arrested desire. Nerves battled in her chest, but she wanted... She wanted.

For the first time in her life she was getting things she wanted. So she would take until it was all gone. Was she pushing too hard? Maybe. But she had never been good at stepping back when she should.

Why start now?

She reached out and put her palms on his thighs, watching his reaction to her every move. His nostrils flared, his jaw clenched, and those dark, dreamy eyes flashed.

“I also understandthisin theory,” she said, her heart hammering against her chest. Not nerves. Just want. “But I’d like to know in practice.” Because even if he’d ended the kiss, even if he was worried aboutrespectability, she could see the thick, hard line of his erection against his pants.

He wanted her. She wanted him. And she couldn’t understand why he didn’t want to indulge. She just had to get through to him, that nothing they did together felt wrong.Waswrong. She would take that shame away from him. Bit by bit.

Because it sounded like everyone held him to too high standards. She wouldn’t do the same. She wouldn’t heap unfair responsibility on him. Not when they were alone. Not when they were newly married and had every reason and right to explore this explosive desire between them.

So she pulled his pants down, freeing the hard, heavy length of him. She used one hand against his thigh for balance, then used the other to touch. Explore. Grasp and stroke.

She leaned forward, her eyes on his. And then she used her mouth. Slow, steady. Watching his face. His gaze hard and hot on where she tasted him. Tension wound through his body, and into his clenched fists. Each gentle glide of her tongue made it harder for him to catch a breath, and it spurred her own.

She was throbbing everywhere. No longer cold at all. Just heat. Just need. And a pulsing, skittering feeling of power, when she’d never had any power before. When every act she’d ever engaged in had been hidden.

But this wasn’t. Her need for him. His for her. It was theirs and it was everything. Surely he’d see that. Surely—

With no warning, he jerked her back, and then up to her feet. She did not know if he was angry. She did not know what this was, as he held her there, his eyes a series of dark storms. She wanted to find a way to calm them, to ease them.

“Lyon.”

“Go into the bedroom,” he said, his voice a rough growl that sent a shower of sparks over her body. “Then and only then, you will remove every last article of clothing.”

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