Tina. She liked it. It was almost an endearment.
Holding his gaze, she did. Something passed between them. Something that went beyond the erotic sensuality of the moment, heightening every touch, every movement.
She watched the pleasure roll over his features as she gripped him tight in her hand and pumped. Slow at first, then faster as the passion built on his handsome face.
A strange sense of power surged through her, knowing that she had the ability to do this to him. To take him to such amazing heights. Surely, it meant something? Surely, this was special?
He was hot and throbbing under her palm. She could feel the blood pound and pound, until she felt a powerful pulse. He tore her hand away with a growl. A pearly drop emerged from the tip. She felt the most peculiar urge to bend down and lick it. To taste him fully.
“No more. I need to be inside you.”
His voice was tight and urgent. She’d never seen him like this. Before his passion had been fierce and hot, but always controlled. But now she sensed the control slipping, sensed him warring with something inside him. He was so close to letting go.
One more push. Then maybe the barrier between them would shatter. Boldness had worked before. Setting aside modesty, she slowly lifted her chemise over her head and tossed it to the side. Resisting the urge to cover herself with her arms, she knelt before him naked. “Then take me.”
—
Tor was fighting to hold on, but she pushed and pushed him closer to the edge with her innocent eagerness. Giving. He’d never met a woman so giving.
From behind. Hell. Even with the most experienced of bed partners it was not a base pleasure in which he usually indulged, and certainly nothing he’d dared imagine—despite their first encounter—with his sheltered bride. But she surprised him again and again.
From the first wicked request to take her from behind, to the heat of her erotic gaze on his cock, to the blessed pleasure of her milking him in her sweet little hand, he struggled for control. Struggled to stop himself from tossing her down on the bed and giving her exactly what she asked for—every bit as rough and gritty as he liked it.
But when she slid her chemise over her head, revealing every creamy inch of her naked skin, he lost it. Any pretense of control fell away, landing on the floor beside her gown.
The memories of her lush body had teased him in the darkness, but memories could not compare to seeing her in the flesh. To having every glorious inch of that baby-soft skin revealed in the warm glow of candlelight.
Stunning. Seductive. More beautiful than any woman should be. A nymph with her long dark hair tumbling around her shoulders in glorious waves as she knelt before him, her breasts full and lush, tipped with the most succulent nipples he’d ever tasted. Against the pale cream of her skin the delicate pink looked even more delectably tempting.
In the candlelight he couldn’t escape the beauty of her body, and most of all her eyes. They held him and wouldn’t let go. Dark and luminous, full of tenderness and emotion he didn’t want to see.
“Then take me.”
If she’d intended to drive him mad with lust, she had succeeded. God’s wounds, he would take her. From behind, from on top, from under, from the side—any way and every way he could have her. Now.
Circling her waist with his hands, he lifted her off the bed and brought her hard against his chest, jolting at the sharp sizzle of awareness as skin met skin and their bodies locked together. He buried his face in her hair, starved for the taste of her. His mouth and tongue devoured the honey-sweet skin of her neck, as his hands slid down her back to cup the round curve of her bottom.
He groaned as the familiar sensations washed over him. He would know her anywhere. He’d thought darkness would make her seem like anyone else, but it was just the opposite. The darkness had heightened his other senses, making him even more aware of her. The baby-soft touch of her skin, her flowery scent, the honey taste of her—they were branded deep in his consciousness.
He’d been using the dark as a cover, hiding from something he knew he couldn’t defeat. But it hadn’t worked. Their bodies slid together as if made for each other. Nothing had ever felt like this before. He was done fighting this, the passion between them—it was too strong.
Her hips circled insistently against him, rubbing her against his already rock-hard staff. Heat pounded through him. It felt so good. So right. He loved the way she moved against him—shimmying, rubbing, melting in a dark, seductive dance.
Her eager response was too much.
He turned her around against his chest, cupping a lush, round breast with one hand as the other skimmed over her stomach and dipped between her legs.
She trembled and made a little whimper of pleasure as his finger found the silky dampness of her arousal. So deliciously wet. His finger slid inside her, stoking her, stretching her. Her breath quickened, became uneven, then turned to a soft cry. He knew she was close.
“Tell me you want this,” he warned against her hair. Part of him wanted her to refuse, wanted to scare her away.
But she met him full force. Answering him with her body. She arched against him, her breast pushing deeper into his hand and her bottom pressing insistently against his turgid cock. God, he was going to explode.
No holding back. For either of them. Not anymore.
“Bend over,” he ordered, trying to control the lust surging through him. “Put your hands on the bed.”
She did as he asked without hesitation, lifting her sweet, round bottom to the perfect angle. He smoothed his hand over the flawless, creamy skin, savoring the moment of raw sensuality. So soft. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. Not with her. The innocent young maid he’d taken one look at and wanted but thought never to have.
He slid his erection between her legs, teasing her with his length, sliding back and forth along her crease until he was wet with her. Then, gripping her hips with his hands, he positioned the sensitive head and pushed inside. His mind went black. He had to close his eyes as the intensity gripped him in a fierce hold. He sank in slowly, dragging out every incredible moment, every sensation of mind-blowing pleasure.
So warm. So tight. So damned good.
When he couldn’t take it anymore, he thrust all the way. She cried out in startled pleasure. “Do you like that, sweet Tina?” he asked, grinding against her. “Is this what you wanted?”
He thrust again, bringing her hips back against him to sink in even deeper—as deep as he could go.
“Yes,” she moaned, tipping her hips back against him. “Please. I want everything.”
Beneath the haze of lust, her words resonated with something deeper. He felt it in his chest, tight and coiled.
He let go. Unleashing his passion from its fettered restraints, giving her everything he had. Letting her see exactly how much he wanted her in all its primitive fierceness.
She braced herself against the bed as he slammed into her again and again, his hard grunts mixing with her soft cries in a cacophony of lust and pleasure.
Sensation fired through his body, gathering at the back of his spine in a hot, tingly mass. Every muscle strained toward finding his release.
His jaw clenched as he concentrated on the sensations, on the wickedness of what they were doing. His eyes feasted on the sensual display spread out before him. Her dark hair spilling over the pale skin of her slim back. The shine of her dampness on him as he slid in and out. Her bottom lifting to meet each stroke.
He watched the way her full, heavy breasts moved with each thrust, the pale pink tips hard as two pearls. God, was there anything more erotic?
His fantasies had become real. This was the height of passion for him…wasn’t it?
Then why did he feel as if something was missing? He quickened his rhythm, trying to find it.
He heard her sharp intake of breath and then the soft cries of her release as she shuddered and clenched around him.
He stilled. An unreasonable flash of anger flared inside him.
He felt as if he’d been cheated. Denied the pleasure he wanted most.
To see her face.
He pulled out of her. Ignoring the shock of cold air on his wet cock, he flipped her over and leaned her back until her bottom rested on the edge of the bed.
The sight of her flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes enraged him, taunting him with what he’d missed.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, sensing the change in him.
“Nothing,” he said through clenched teeth. He was a man on a mission. Intent on making her come again. And this time he would watch her.
What was wrong with him? He was out of control, angry and more aroused than he’d ever been in his life. He felt ready to explode, his body straining with the pressure of the passion she’d stoked inside him. But he needed more. Damn it, he needed to look into her eyes.
He positioned himself between her legs, lifting them to wrap around his waist. Gripping her bottom, he thrust hard inside her, groaning with the relief of being back in the grip of that tight, wet heat.
She had to put her hands around his neck to steady herself from the force of his thrusts, and he could feel the erotic stab of her nipples against his chest.
Their faces were only inches apart. In the candlelight he could see everything, every nuanced change of her pupils, every flush, every part of her lips as her breath hitched.
He couldn’t look away, mesmerized by the signs of pleasure on her face.
When she looked at him, he couldn’t breathe. His chest was too tight, too full, of…something.
This was it. This was what he’d unconsciously sought.
Color rose on her cheeks, and her gaze grew heavy as her lids fought to close.
Blood pounded inside him. He could feel the pressure gather at the base of his spine, coiling, building with each gasp from her sweetly parted lips.
His balls tightened, the pressure hot and powerful with the climax roaring inside him.
But he held it back, reached down between them, and found her sensitive spot with his finger as he held himself deep inside her. As deep as he could go.
His ass clenched.
Her body started to shudder.
“Look at me,” he demanded fiercely. She opened her eyes.
Their eyes locked and the world stopped. For one long heartbeat all he could see was her. Euphoria unlike anything he’d ever known washed over him. He felt suspended, as if he’d come out of himself and been lifted to the highest peak of happiness. Then he flew over the edge, and the world exploded in a burst of sensation and light.
They shattered together, their bodies shuddering in a flush of rolling waves.
He held her close, feeling the frantic race of her heart beating against his, burying his face in the warm silk of her hair, inhaling her soft, feminine scent.
He stayed like that long after it was over, not wanting to break the connection. Not wanting to leave. Not wanting to think.
Only when his breathing had calmed and his legs started to shake did he pull away. The warm places where they’d been joined chilled with the sudden blast of cold night air.
She made a gasp of protest and reached for him. Instinctively. With trust that humbled him. With a fierce swell of protectiveness, he gathered her in his arms, lifted her onto the bed and snuggled in beside her. Just for a moment, he told himself. Giving her the warmth of his body. But instead it was she who warmed him, giving him a sense of contentment he’d never thought possible for a man like him. The responsibilities of his clan and the bleakness of the battlefield seemed very far away.
Smoothing her hair from her face, he caressed her soft cheek with the back of his finger until she fell into a peaceful sleep.
This was different. She was different. He’d thought himself not capable of emotion, but she made him feel something. She touched a part of him that had been buried for a very long time, and the realization jarred him.
He felt like a man waging a losing war against an invisible enemy and not sure how to defend himself. But he knew one thing. He was getting too close. Closeness wasn’t for men like him. Emotion was a weakness he could not afford. Too many people were counting on him.
Get it under control. This had to stop.
—
Christina drifted off to a contended sleep, secure in her husband’s arms, certain that something significant had just occurred. A breakthrough, at last!
No man could look at a woman while making love like that and not feel something for her.
But it seemed as if she’d only just closed her eyes when she was pulled from her sated slumber by her husband’s shifting off the bed. Momentarily disoriented, she rolled over, opening her eyes to candlelight. Not morning.
Tor sat on the edge of the bed with his back to her. A wall of muscle and flesh, but as effective a barrier as stone. He’d already put on his leine and appeared to be tying the rawhide strings of his soft leather brogues. He was leaving. Again.
She told herself not to overreact, but disappointment curdled in her chest. “You’re leaving,” she said tonelessly.
He turned, giving her a sharp glance over his shoulder. “Go back to sleep, Christina.”
Christina. Not Tina. They were back to polite strangers. A flash of anger bubbled up from the hurt. Apparently, that was how he wanted it except for when they were in bed. But not wanting to appear the demanding bride, she buried the anger and swallowed her pride. “I hoped that you might stay.”
He went completely still for a moment, and then resumed what he was doing without a response. Her heart throbbed in the darkness. Was he that unfeeling, or merely obtuse? Did he not understand that she might wish for more than bedplay?
She wanted to bring a little softness and warmth into his life. It had been so long since he’d had someone to care for him. But he was making it impossible.
When he was done, he stood and turned around to look at her. Nothing in his ice-blue gaze hinted at the closeness they’d just shared. He was all business. Every inch the fearsome, daunting warlord and proud chief.
“I won’t be back for a few days.”
The bottom fell out of her stomach. The coldness of his tone bit into her. Don’t, she told herself, but hot, choking tears sprang to her eyes. Why did he have to act like this? Would it be too hard to give her one little tender look? One nice word to hold on to? Why must he always hold himself apart? The great chief, the great warrior, but what of the man? “Where are you going?”
His jaw clamped down and his mouth tightened. “I do not like being questioned, Christina. As I’ve told you before, I’m attending to clan business. It’s nothing to concern you.”
That was it? That was all the explanation he intended to give her? She knew he didn’t like to be pushed, but she was tired of his secretiveness. She sat up, dragging the sheet up to cover her nakedness. His eyes dipped anyway, lingering for a moment on the round rise of flesh visible above the sheet. But right now the flare of lust only angered her. She wanted more. Her fists balled in the sheets. “You won’t even tell me where you are going? Does a wife not have a right to know where her husband goes when he leaves her for days on end without explanation?”
“Nay, she does not,” he said harshly.
Her eyes widened in shock, getting her first personal glimpse of the cold ruthlessness that made him a vaunted chief and feared warrior.
“You are making something out of nothing,” he assuaged, as if he were speaking to a child. “There is nothing to tell.”
The condescension in his tone stung. She was a plaything, not worthy of his confidences. Apparently, deciding he was done with her, he turned to leave, his back hard and unyielding. Hurt, angry, and confused, she couldn’t stop herself from blurting shrilly, “Is Lady Janet going?”
He stopped in his tracks and then turned toward her slowly, his eyes pinning her. “Why would you ask that?”
Cheeks burning, feeling like muck under his heel, she fought to hold his stare and not to crumple into a ball. “I kno
w who she is,” she said boldly, lifting her chin and daring him to deny it. “I couldn’t help but notice how she is often gone as well.”
His eyes narrowed. Not muck, she thought, a bug under a rock. A silly, foolish, inconsequential bug. “What are you accusing me of, Christina?” His voice was low and even, but she was not fooled. He was furious. This was not a subject a wife should bring up. She was supposed to ignore such arrangements. Pretend they didn’t exist. Pretend she didn’t care. But she did, and the thought of him being with another woman ripped her in two.
“It’s not an accusation,” she said, her voice quivering with the tight ball of emotion in her throat. “Merely an observation.”
“Rest assured,” he said, with a long drag of his gaze down her body. The heat in his eyes incinerated the thin linen sheet that covered her nakedness. Her traitorous skin flushed with awareness, her nipples hardening to a taut peak. “Seeking another woman’s bed has not yet crossed my mind.” Yet. Her heart tumbled, skewered by a fiery arrow of pain. “Thus far, I’ve been well satisfied in that arena.”
“Is that supposed to reassure me?”
His mouth tightened. “Reassuring you is not required.”
Christina sucked in her breath. He’d put her firmly in her place. She should have known better. She could not force the declaration from him that she wanted. A wife had no claim on her husband’s fidelity. If he wanted to have a leman, he would, and there was nothing that she could do about it. She could not force him to do anything. His will was implacable. The more she pushed, the colder and harder he resisted. But if she didn’t push, how else was she going to break through?
“But—”
“Janet is none of your concern. None of this is any of your concern.” The cold steel in his voice cut her off as decisively as the blade of the sword he wielded with such brute force. “Stay out of it, Christina. I mean it.” His gaze softened just a little. “I have no wish to hurt you, but I will not tolerate interference. Attend to your duties, leave me to mine, and all will be well. Interfere and you will only bring trouble down on both our heads.”
The Chief Page 22