Page 66 of The Beast of Beswick
She didn’t care about terms. She didn’t care about tomorrow. The only thing that mattered was this moment. And the two of theminthis moment.
Astrid traced her fingers over his firm lips and licked hers. The gold in his eyes darkened to the color of whiskey. “Thane?”
“Yes, my queen?”
“Kiss me.”
…
Thane didn’t know what he would have done if she hadn’t asked. Dropped to his knees and begged, perhaps. “Are you certain?”
Because once we do this, there’s no going back.
His wife nodded, her slender throat working. “Yes.”
Thane stared down at the silver dust coating her eyelashes, making her eyes look like pools of starlight. She was ethereal and lovely, and she was his. He removed his gloves and tucked them into his pocket—when he touched her, he only wanted bare skin between them. And then he gathered her close, softly, softly. Allowing her time to pull away if she chose to. But she didn’t. Thane lifted a knuckle and traced the skin of her cheekbone.
“So smooth,” he murmured. “I’ve never felt skin like yours.”
She leaned into his caress as his hand drifted down her cheek to the straight slope of her jaw and her stubborn chin. He traced the lush bottom curve of her lip and the arched bow of the top. Her lips parted on a hushed sigh, but he continued his exploration up her slim nose to her smooth brow. Silvery light glistened on her hair, the thick mass of curls cascading over porcelain shoulders. He drank her in, her beauty transcendent in the moonlight. She was something else—truly a fairy queen come to steal the hearts of mere mortals.
“You dazzle me,” he said.
“Is that such a bad thing?”
“Yes. I should stay away from you.”
She swallowed. “Why?”
“Because you deserve more.”
Cradling her jaw in two hands, he ended the conversation when he leaned down and drew his mouth over hers, back and forth, savoring the shape and texture of her. She tasted of brandy and magic, of beauty and secrets, and he wanted to know them all. Unable to help himself, Thane’s tongue flicked along the crease, coaxing her lips to part, and then he licked deep.
With a soft cry, Astrid wrapped her arms around his neck, plastering her entire body to his. And the kiss ignited. Her mouth was hot and wet and open on his, her tongue circling, teasing, and retreating. Thane groaned and sank his fingers into her hair. She was passion embodied, meeting him thrust for thrust and lick for lick. Astrid threw herself wholly into the kiss, holding back nothing. And neither did he.
It was the single most erotic kiss of his life.
As evidenced by the ax handle in his trousers. He canted his hips backward, not wanting to scare her, but she would have none of it, her hips following his until she was arched like a bow in his arms, her body glued to his. He tore his mouth from hers to kiss the long length of her throat, nuzzling into the hollow of her collarbone. She smelled like fresh grass with a hint of rosewater. Essence of a summer thunderstorm in a wildflower garden.
“Christ, you are delicious,” he murmured, his tongue darting out to sample her hot skin.
With another breathy sigh, her knees buckled slightly, her fingers clutching at his coat. Thane lifted her easily, sweeping one hand beneath her knees, without breaking the kiss and walked them to the stone bench of the folly. He settled her in his lap. Her plump lips were deliciously swollen, her ice-blue irises nearly swallowed up by the black of her pupils.
“Shall we stop?” he asked huskily, a finger tracing the edge of her bodice.
“God, no.”
Thane laughed at her enthusiastic denial. “Good, because I’ve wanted to do this for days. That first time has been imprinted on my brain.”
He pulled her bodice low, exposing her breasts to the moonlight and his ravenous gaze. He full-body shuddered, rocked by a bolt of lust so sharp that it dazed him. That teasing glimpse in the bath hadn’t done her justice. The pale, creamy globes spilled into his hand, their peach-tipped dusky peaks tightening into mouth-watering knots. She sucked in a ragged breath as his thumb brushed over her nipple, her back arching into his supporting arm. God, she was magnificent. His pulse thrummed with want.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
Like a cat finding a bowl of cream, Thane lowered his head.
“Wait, what are you doing?” she mumbled, eyes wide and dilated with desire.
“Kissing you,” he said. “I’m only fulfilling my wife’s demands.”
