Page 50 of The Winter Husband
His sack tightened at the promise. She’d handled his sex more than once before, when her courses had arrived, and they’d been forced to be more creative in their shared bed. Spurred by her teasing, he maneuvered his hand a little lower under her breeches, until his bare fingers found warm flesh.
She started. “Cold! Cold.”
He splayed his hand over her softly-furred mound, pausing. “Do you want me to stop?”
“Never.”
The word gave him a jolt. Could there be a never? Could he always have her in his bed, keep her close, please her like this? The stunning thought hung in his mind, until she wiggled her hips and the rush of his pulse brought his attention back to the task at hand.
He murmured against her chilled cheek, “Open your legs for me, Marie.”
Her thighs slackened. His fingers delved deeper. He watched her mouth part as he slipped a cold finger over the nub of her sex.
She sucked in her lower lip.
He whispered, “You’re so wet.”
He rolled his fingers and watched her eyes flutter closed. He explored her folds, his heart pounding as she made that moaning noise that had the power of a cannon blast on his senses. When he curled a now-warm finger deeper, her inner muscles clenched around it.
“Oh…Lucas.”
Her body trembled against his. Tension tightened her limbs. He could feel it even through the layers of fur and clothes. She pressed her face to his chest as, with gentle but more insistent circles, he worked her beautiful body. Guided by her moans, he increased the rhythmic, coiled pressure of his fingers. His hand grew warm against her sex, slick with her excitement, until finally she bowed off his lap in spasms of pure pleasure.
He pressed his lips against her forehead, prolonging her pleasure with the subtle working of his hand, loving how her inner muscles unclenched in measures while her body went slack in his lap.
He cupped her hot, faintly throbbing sex, not wanting to let her go, in so many ways. He laid his head back against the trunk and watched a small cloud scud against the pale blue sky. Attuned to her breathing, he stared beyond the distant hills shimmering in the cold winter light. A profound sense of peace settled over him, sitting there with her snuggled against him, his back against an ancient tree, beneath a timeless sky.
Maybe this moment could last forever.
Maybe the danger had passed.
Maybe hecouldask her to stay
“Lucas?”
She blinked an eye open, looking up at him through a tangle of dark hair that had slipped out from beneath her hat. The edge of that eye creased with a smile. The sight dove through the shadows in his heart to nestle like a spark.
“You forgot to fire your weapon,” she murmured as he felt a pull on the buttons of his breeches. “Shall I squeeze the trigger for you?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Her body buzzing with satisfaction, Marie followed Lucas as they worked their way around the thicket in search of the elusive stag. He glanced over his shoulder now and again to make sure she was keeping up, shooting her a roguish half-smile that only fed her wicked delight. How could she feel this giddy, stomping about in the nipping cold in the middle of these primitive woods? Yet she couldn’t help herself—she pulled this cloak of happiness closer. When, eventually, she shipped back to the cloistered halls of the Salpêtrière orphanage, would she ever feel as alive as she did right now, roaming the wild with her lover?
I will miss this.
I will miss you, Lucas.
The thought came over her like a shadow. She hustled it away until the darkness retreated. She didn’t want to think about the future, especially the spring, and the conversation she and Lucas would need to have then. Instead she fixed her attention on the scent of pine, the crunch of the snow beneath her snowshoes, the faint, tingling numbness of her cheeks. Most of all, set her eye on this wonderful man, striding ahead, the folds of his coat flexing across his powerful back. She would embrace this joy for exactly what it was. Never again would she confuse sexual passion for other, deeper feelings she might stupidly mistake for love.
Lucas stopped abruptly, and she followed his lead. They’d followed the tracks of the stag into a clearing. Bright, white sun glittered on the surface of the open field. Icicles hung from the boughs of the pines that rimmed it, making the edges sparkle.
Nothing moved.
She slipped up beside him. “Do you see the stag?”
He didn’t nod or shake his head or even acknowledge her question. Not even the fringe of his jacket swayed. His stillness made her wary and heightened her senses. They might not be the only creatures hunting today. Patting her waist in search of the knife tucked under her belt, she waited. But the only thing she witnessed moving across the field was snow-powder kicked up by a breeze.
Under his breath, he muttered, “Damn it.”
