Page 17 of Blood Tribute

He stretched out on the bed, half reclining against the pillows. Her mouth watered, as if she too were a bloodthirsty heretic.

There was no husband in her future. This was the only time she would ever share this bed with anyone. She had this one opportunity to discover what it felt like. And no one would ever know what had happened in this room.

As long as she kept her maidenhead, she wouldn’t betray the promise she’d made to herself.

She drew her skirts up, careful to gather plenty of fabric to cushion the scabbard. What a dangerous game she was playing. A rush coursed through her limbs as she climbed onto the bed with him.

She slid her leg over him, straddling his lap. His thighs were hard under hers. She rested her hands on his bare chest for balance, positioning herself. He would not feel the smooth leather strap on the inside of her thigh through this much clothing.

“You may not touch my thighs,” she informed him. “I will offer you other places for your hands.”

“Will you, now? I cannot wait to find out where.”

She reached up and began to remove her veil. His heated gaze tracked each pin she plucked out. No one had ever looked at her like this, as if her every move mesmerized him. She had him in her thrall.

“I’m offering you my hair.” She tossed her veil aside and shook out her curls. As she leaned down over him, he reached up to bury both hands in her mane. The feeling of his fingers on her scalp sent a tingle through the rest of her.

“Unlace my gown,” she invited.

He didn’t tease her like the night before. He tugged open her bodice with demanding hands. “No undergarments tonight? That is clearly an offer.”

“Leave my sleeves on,” she reminded him.

“Of course.” He held his hands out to her. And waited.

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. No one would ever find out. And she needed to make sure he was thoroughly distracted before she made her move.

She took his hand in hers and pressed it to her belly. She slid his palm down her skin, past the vee of her open gown. When his fingers touched her nether curls, she sucked in a breath.

“When you offered me your hair,” he said, “I had no idea you would be so generous.”

“Touch me here,” she said. “Any way you like.”

“Oh, Nora, are you sure you can withstand the temptation if I show you this?”

“Yes,” she snarled.

He gave her that presumptuous smile of his. “Has anyone touched you here before?”

“Of course not.”

“Have you ever touched yourself?”

That bastard. She didn’t answer, but she felt her cheeks flaming, and his smile widened.

“Show me how you like to be touched,” he said.

She guided his hand between her legs. A frisson traveled through her at the feeling of his big, strong hand cupping her. Together, they pressed their fingers into her folds.

“You’re already wet,” he purred. “It was a good kiss, wasn’t it? But it left you wanting more.”

She dipped his finger into her core, then slicked her most sensitive place. He followed her lead, letting her move his finger in a circle around the bud of nerves.

She bit down hard on her lip. His hand felt so different…so good…

“Is this how you like it?” he asked.

She nodded, her hair falling in her eyes. She kept her hand on his for a moment longer, but he soon had the rhythm. When her grip went slack, he took over. He didn’t need her to show him anything. He knew exactly how to touch her.

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