Page 50 of Captive Bride

Isobel

His touch sends fire racing through my skin.

Sparks burn through me in a manic blaze.

Every touch of his fingers, every flick of his tongue, and I’m burning up and I can’t find it in me to mind.

I never knew that anything could be as intense as the pleasure racing through me now.

One moment I’m unthinking, lost in it completely. The next I’m so overwhelmed, I feel the need to run away.

How much can I possibly take?

No one’s ever touched me the way Tristan is now.

No one has ever looked at me with the fire presently burning through his green eyes.

I feel ready to collapse under that gaze.

This man is more than I ever thought a person capable of being.

With every movement, with every touch, he’s showing me that I am as well.

I scream his name as another orgasm rips through me, my legs shaking frantically around his head.

“God, Tristan!” I moan in equal parts shock and amazement.

His tongue only moves faster as I come, knocking the wind from my lungs in a rush.

I’m left breathless in its wake, floating mindlessly in nirvana.

“Yes, say my name again,” he says, his tone edging on an order.

I feel his teeth nip at my inner thigh, stinging the flesh where they come in contact.

I do as he says, his name leaving my lips in a breathless cry.

He stands, looking down at me with hunger in his eyes.

The murky green of his gaze washes over me, seeming to take in every inch, and his lips pull back into a lustful smile.

“Put your head on the pillow,” he says, his voice husky with lust.

My body quivers at the thought of what’s to come, but I book no argument.

I turn from him, slowly crawling the length of the oversized bed.

I feel his eyes on me the entire time, the knowledge of his gaze causing me to move slower. I love that he’s watching me; chills race through my skin at the thought.

I reach the head of the bed and rise to my knees, head turning to find him.

“Lie down,” he tells me.

My obedience comes easily at his command; I don’t even think of questioning him.

Some far-removed part of my mind is screaming that it’s insanity to trust a man you’ve just met. One more glance at Tristan sends it scampering into silence.

Insanity or not, I do trust him.

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