Page 74 of Out of the Cold

He skimmed a finger along her jaw where her skin looked red from his beard. Everywhere else shone pale gold in the light of the lantern. “Exquisite.”

“You already know what I think of your body. You’ve caught me staring.”

“I might have guessed that you liked my legs.”

“And your chest, your arms, your beautiful eyes....”

He smiled. “I’m the only man for miles around. You can’t afford to be choosy.”

“I could say the same.”

She smiled as she said it, but he couldn’t help thinking there was a question buried in there.

“I wasn’t the slightest bit tempted by anyone until you came along,” he told her.

He kissed her neck, trailed kisses along her delicate collarbone, then down to the silky skin beneath. In the dim light, he barely made out a thin scar, about two inches long.

“How’d you get this?” he asked, gently tracing it.

She tensed underneath him. “That’s where my port was,” she said, her gaze directed over his shoulder.

“For your treatments?”

She nodded, her eyes focusing back on him. “That way, they don’t have to stick you over and over for an IV.”

He kissed her there, wanting to banish any painful thoughts, and worked his way back across her collarbone and up the smooth skin of her throat. She was already moving restlessly against him. When he finally took her mouth, he kissed her soft and slow, taking all the time he couldn’t manage the first time around.

Then she gave a little shiver.

“We ought to move closer to the fire. It’s too cold in here.”

She stretched her arms above her head, distracting him all over again. He cupped his hand over one of her breasts, teasing the nipple until it was tight and hard. “I can’t seem to stay away from these,” he murmured.

She was breathing fast, her eyelids growing heavy. “They’re so small.”

“They’re perfect.” He’d spent hours thinking about her teacup breasts with their delicate curves. He dipped his head and showed her what they did to him.

Soon she was writhing and panting his name, and his control was slipping. He wanted her again, as fiercely as he had the first time.

Before he could make his own move, she was pushing him back on the bed, her eyes fierce. She swung a leg over his hips until she was straddling him and then slowly, slowly lowered herself onto him.

The breath hissed out of his lungs and he grabbed her hips, needing more, but she only shook her head and rose up on her knees.

“My turn,” she said, coming down once again. She rose and lowered, gasping as she took him completely.

He was breathing like a bellows, and despite his recent climax, his need was so great he raised his hips, hoping to take control of the rhythm.

“Oh no, you don’t.” Grabbing his hands, she pressed them back to the bed. “Let me feel you,” she said, and opened her mouth over his.

Her hair spilled over her shoulders onto his chest, her scent—musk and flowers and green tea—engulfed him. He gave himself over. She was the earth, the air, everything he needed. She kissed his neck, bit his shoulder, riding him until he thought his head would explode.

Soon her movements turned more urgent. She let go of his wrists and raked her hands down his chest.

“Gabriel,” she said, her voice cracking.

He grazed his thumb into her folds and felt her clench around him. She was sopping wet and so gorgeous, he had to close his eyes. He was holding on for dear life, but no way in hell was he going before her.

He didn’t have long to wait.

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