Page 12 of Which Witch is Willing?
“Like I don’t know that.” Hard to forget with the beach ball where her flat stomach used to be and the constant kicking from the little tyke. He or she had a promising career as a soccer player.
“Not to mention crankier than a pig in a bacon factory,” Moira muttered.
Yes, she was cranky. She was in France and hadn’t seen any of it outside of the granite medieval fortress Julian called Le Châteaux Morte.
Suddenly her world tilted as Killian swung her up into his arms. “You will take a break even if I have to force you to.”
“Put me down,” she demanded.
“No.” He quit the room with her secure in his hold.
She wanted to wail at him, struggle in his arms, but didn’t relish the idea of tumbling to the floor. Plus, if she were to be honest, taking a nap sounded like heaven. She’d been pushing herself, hoping they would come across something,anything,that would help them stop the progression of the Apocalypse.
Killian carried her through the grand foyer off the library and up the sweeping staircase to her bedroom as though she weighed nothing. She tried to stifle the feeling of being cherished, but wasn't successful.
Once they reached the room she’d been given, with its tapestry-covered walls, massive four-poster canopy and velvet bed clothes, he gently laid her on the soft mattress. “Stay.”
She wanted to disobey his order—had felt compelled to argue with his every edict since they had returned from the vibrant garden he’d abducted her to—but she was too tired and sore to go against what her body craved. A yawn, large enough to crack her jaw, settled it. She needed a nap.
Killian lifted her feet and disposed of her shoes and socks. The Châteaux had been constructed eons ago and didn’t have central heating. Just the oversized fireplaces in every room tall enough to stand completely upright in and wide enough to house three or four people easily. She wondered vaguely where Julian procured the firewood to heat each room. She hadn’t noticed him feeding the flames either, they just continued to burn unattended. More magic that she wasn’t privy to, she figured.
Once Killian tossed her shoes aside, he crawled onto the bed and settled next to her.
She stiffened when he pulled her into the curve of his body and felt his erection, hard and thick at her backside.
“Hey,thatisn’t resting.” She was not up to making love with him again. She’d done a fine job of keeping him at bay with her sharp tongue. Who knew she had such a vicious side? But then Killian did seem to bring out the worst in her.
“Sleep. I’ll not bother you…for now.” He tossed a fur blanket over them, and she couldn’t help snuggling into the pelt. No fake fur for the Horsemen, though she didn’t want to consider the animal who’d been sacrificed for such a divine blanket.
With the warmth of the blanket tucked around her and the heat of Killian at her back, she instantly dropped off the planet into a deep sleep.
* * *
Killian smoothed backthe burgundy-black of Tierra’s hair, watching her slumber. The frown constantly marring her forehead relaxed and she looked peaceful and younger than her twenty-six years.
His heart swelled with emotion for his woman. She might not be ready to admit it yet, but she was his. He’d taken her virginity, impregnated her, and then bonded her to him. Eventually, she’d realize that she was good and stuck. While she’d offered her virginity to him, she hadn’t been on board with the others.
What would she do when she found out—
No reason to think about that now. He figured he had time still to reveal what else he’d done to her without her permission. For now, he’d enjoy just holding her in his arms, sharing this moment and this space in time with her.
He couldn’t remember when he’d ever just held a woman. Not to mention, actuallysleptbeside one.
Laying his hand over her swollen belly, he marveled at the answering flutter.
My child.
The wonder of existing as long as he had and never being able to procreate until he’d met this enchanting earth witch, continued to cloud his thoughts and tangle his emotions.
Somehow, he had to heal this rift between them, but the damned woman bewildered him.
After an hour of watching over her sleep, she stirred in his arms, pressing her backside against his rigid cock. He’d been so hard for so long that he’d started to worry his condition might remain permanent.
His arms tightened around her, and he couldn’t help from grinding his throbbing erection against her sweet ass.
She gasped, and he wrapped his hand around her long mane of hair, forcing her head to look at him over her shoulder. Her eyes were wide open, the emerald fire hardening to jade. Before she could utter a word, he sealed his mouth over hers, his tongue breaching the tight seam of her lips, glorifying in the heat that welcomed him back.
Gods, how he wanted to be inside her, lose himself in her softness, ease this tension between them with a dozen or more orgasms.
