Page 55 of Irish Rebel
“Why don’t I just show you what I have in mind? Right here.”
She had his shirt unbuttoned before he realized they were standing in an empty stall, freshly bedded with hay. “Here?” He laughed, taking both her hands to tug her out again. “I don’t think so.”
“Here.” She countered his move by ramming his back against the side wall. “I know so.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” His lungs were clogged, and his mind insisted on following suit. “Anyone could come along.”
“Live dangerously.” She pulled the stall door shut behind them.
“I have been, since I first set eyes on you.”
The thrum of her heart in her throat turned her voice husky. “Why stop now? Seduce me, Brian. I dare you.”
“I’ve always found it hard to turn aside a dare.” He reached out, tugged the band from her hair. “You cloud my senses, Keeley, like perfume. Before I know it, there’s nothing there but you.” He slid his hand around to cup the back of her neck, to draw her toward him. “And nothing that needs to be.”
His mouth covered hers, soft, smooth in a kiss silky enough to have her gliding down on that alone. She’d asked for seduction knowing seduction wasn’t needed.
“I want you, Brian. I wake up wanting you. Kiss me again.”
And the way her body simply melted into his, the way her lips warmed and parted, inviting him in had every pulse in his body throbbing like a wound.
“I don’t want to be gentle this time.” He reversed their position until her back was against the wall, and his eyes, so suddenly dark, burned into hers. “I don’t want to be so careful, just this once.”
The thrill of it was a bolt through the heart. “Then don’t. I’m not fragile like your horses, Brian. Don’t be fooled.”
“I’ll frighten you.” He couldn’t have said if it was a threat or warning, but her answer was just another dare.
“Try it.”
He tore her shirt open, sending buttons flying. He watched her eyes widen in shock even as he crushed his mouth to hers to swallow her gasp. Then his hands were on her, a rough scrape of callus over sensitive skin. Part of him expected her to object, to struggle away, but she only moaned against his savaging mouth, and held on.
When her knees gave like heated butter, he dragged her down to the mound of hay.
He used his mouth on her, his teeth, his tongue. A kind of wild fury. His hands raced over her, rough and possessive in their impatience to have more. To take all.
Her choked cries had the horses moving restlessly in their boxes. As he propelled her over that first breathless edge, she fisted her hands in his hair as if to anchor herself. Or to drag him with her.
He’d given her tenderness, shown her the beauty of lovemaking with patience and care. Now he showed her the dark glory of it with reckless demands and bruising hands.
Still she gave. Even with the whirlwind rushing inside him, he felt her give. Flesh dampened until it was slick, hearts pounded until the beat of them seemed to slap the air, but she rolled with him, accepting. Offering.
Even when her eyes were blind, the blue of them blurred as dark as midnight, she stayed with him. The sound of his name rushing through her lips seemed to sing in his blood.
She cried out, arching against his busy mouth when her world shattered into shards bright as glass. There was nothing to cling to, no thread to tie her to sanity, and still he drove her harder until the breath tearing from her lungs turned to harsh, primitive pants.
“It’s me who has you.” Wild to mate, he gripped her hips, jerked them high. “It’s me who’s in you.” And plunged into her as if his life depended on it.
She heard a scream, high, thin, helpless. But it wasn’t helplessness she felt. She felt power, outrageous power that pumped through her blood like a drug. Drunk on it, she reared up, her eyes locked on his as she fisted her hands in his hair once more.
She fixed her mouth on his, savaging it as he rode her, hard and fast. And she held on, held on, matching him beat for beat though she thought her body would burst, until she felt him fall.
“It’s me,” she said on a sob, “who has you.” And still holding fast, let herself leap after him.
Chapter Ten
As far as Keeley was concerned it was perfect. She’d fallen in love with a man who suited her. They had a strong foundation of common interests, enjoyed each other’s company, respected each other’s opinions.
He wasn’t without flaws, of course. He tended to be moody and his confidence very often crossed the line into arrogance. But those qualities made him who he was.
