Page 49 of Wolf's Keep
Having taken care of the discomfort in her bladder, she returned to the water’s edge, pulling up the hem of her dress, and rinsing off her legs in the cool water. He stood behind her, silent, watching. She didn’t need to look to know his gaze was on her. Awareness fluttered over her skin. She wanted him. Oh Lord, how she wanted him, but… She needed to find a way home. Getting involved wouldn’t be a smart thing to do.
Standing, she turned to face him. “Gaharet, I—”
“Shh.” He lifted a finger to her lips. Planting a kiss on her forehead, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. Held in his arms, staring into the dark, swirling depths of his eyes, her words stalled in her throat and slipped away. He leaned in, his warm breath fanning across her cheek, his beard brushing against her skin, stirring nerve endings into a frenzy.
“Are you ready to admit you want this,ma petite pouliche? That you crave it as much as I?” he whispered into her ear.
Her eyelids fluttered closed, her body no longer a solid mass, but liquid heat coalescing before him and in danger of pooling at his feet.
No, I can’t, I shouldn’t.
“Yes.”
“Truly?” He placed soft, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, nipping, tasting. Erin tipped her head back, giving him greater access, and he abandoned her jaw to press a kiss on the sensitive patch of skin below her ear. Her knees went weak, and she clung to him. “You will let me take you? Here, in this meadow?”
All hope of intelligent thought vanished, moving her beyond resistance and well into the territory of mindless desire.
“I will have your answer,ma petite pouliche.” He sucked on her earlobe, a gentle nibbling at tender flesh with his teeth.
She moaned. She should stop him now, push him away. “Yes.”
“Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need.”
His voice was a husky whisper against her throat, his mouth trailing kisses down to its hollow, his tongue flicking against her heated flesh. He was ice to her sunburn, cold water to her burning thirst. Her whole body strained to get closer, to feel every inch of him, to slake this fire that burned. She’d beg if she had to.
“Kiss me. Take me, Gaharet. Please.”
With a growl, his hand slipped beneath her veil, grasping a fist full of her hair, angling her head, taking her mouth in his with a deep open-mouthed kiss that possessed, that spoke of a hunger unleashed.
Ohyes.
He picked her up as her knees buckled under his onslaught, carrying her to a grassy spot on the bank and laying her down. He knelt beside her, devouring every inch of her, staring at her from under hooded lids. His dark gaze lingered first on her lips, her breasts and the vee at her thighs, his breathing heavy and ragged. Erin extended her arms and reached for him. She’d have him before she changed her damn mind.
He needed no more encouragement, and he cast aside his sword, shucked his surcoat, armor and gambeson and placed his hands on her, sliding them up across her stomach. Erin arched her body into his caress, her need to have him pressed against her an imperative.
He groaned and, supporting his weight on his elbows, he positioned himself over her, his knee nudging apart her thighs. Her desperate fingers sought skin, pushing under his tunic, running up his back, hips arching against him. The evidence of his arousal pressed against her, rock-hard and large. She shivered, a soft moan escaping. He caught the sound with his mouth, allowing her no reprieve. His tongue plundered, tangling with hers, demanding she respond in kind. With his large hand, he cupped her breast, teasing her pert nipple through the layers of fabric with his thumb and forefinger. It wasn’t enough. She wanted more. Nothing less than skin on skin would satisfy her now.
Touch me, Gaharet.
As if hearing her unspoken request, his hand skimmed down her side, past her hip, pulling at the material of her dress, the slide of his fingers featherlight on her trembling thigh. Cool air replaced body heat, his fingers leaving her thigh as he pulled away from her. Erin’s eyes flickered open. He closed his eyes, his breathing heavy and his face a mask of rigid control.
No. Don’t hold back, Gaharet.
She yearned for him to lose control, craved the tenth-century warrior, his aggressive dominance. It’s what had drawn her to him in the first place, no matter how much she’d denied it. She let out a murmur of discontent, thrusting her hips against his hard cock, reaching up to run her hands under his shirt. His stomach quivered beneath her touch.
“Stop,” he growled, barely above a whisper, nostrils flaring, a strong, musky scent filling the air. “Close your eyes.”
She mewled in protest.
He leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. “Close your eyes. Please.”
Dark eyes stared into hers, the shadows shifting within their depths more pronounced than she’d ever seen before. She reached up to touch his face, and he flinched.
“Please.”
“Okay.” Her eyelids fluttered closed. The gentle touch of his lips pressed first on one eyelid, then the other.
“Thank you,” he murmured against her cheek.
