“Och, of course not, lass,” he exclaimed in mock horror. “I’m far more handsome than that goat.”
Lucy laughed. She couldn’t help it. And as her laughter filled the room, his expression shifted.
Intensified.
Smoldered.
Heat rolled through Lucy as she met his stormy gaze where hunger burned like a bonfire in the dark. She wasn’t just going to let it pass this time. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
He lowered his chin and gave a rueful smile. “Sorry, lass. It’s the sound of your laughter. It gets me in here.” He rubbed a hand across his chest.
The heat inside her gathered to create a gentle pulsing pressure in the apex of her thighs. “What do you mean?” she asked in a rough murmur.
He looked at her for a few moments. The wanting in his eyes made the ache more poignant.
Then he shook his head and replied. “Forgive me. I should have kept that to myself.”
He wanted her. She could see it—feel it—as a force that was equal and opposite to her own desire. Like the resistance of two magnets. If they just repositioned themselves…it’d be an inevitable joining.
She was tempted to tell him that she welcomed the pull between them. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
What if all she’d be to him was another passing fancy? A woman to warm his bed and chase away his boredom until he could return to the rest of his life?
What if that could be enough?
She wanted him. She admired him and trusted him. Would it be so bad to indulge in a love affair with such a man, even if it was fleeting?
When he finally glanced away, the ache of their inevitable parting invaded her marrow. She’d never considered herself a coward, but then, she’d never expected to yearn for a man as she did for George. If she accepted her desire for him and followed the urging inside her, would she be able to keep her heart from being damaged in the process?
It was some time later, as they each lay in their respective furs—his on the floor before the fire, hers up in the dark loft—that she wondered more at her reluctance.
Perhaps it was because she had gone all her life in opposition to such things. When her father had been alive, their existence had been about avoiding personal connections at all costs. She’d never really understood his reasons, but it was the only life she’d known.
Since she’d been on her own, her perceived vulnerability had brought out the worst in some men who thought she was available for claiming whether she wanted it or not. Fighting such things had been second nature for so long.
And now, she had a man living alongside her, sleeping in front of her fire, joining her in the daily tasks of life, reading to her from one of her own books each night.
And she found herself craving more. Something deeper, more intense. She wanted to give in to the magnetic pull she felt every day. Wasn’t it better to experience such a gift—even if it was only for a short time—than to never embrace it at all because of fear?
Lucy believed it was, and she didn’t want to waste the time she had left with him. But she was awkward and inexperienced with such things. She had no idea how to initiate a more intimate arrangement.
He did. But he resisted.
Oh, why does he have to be such a gentleman?
She didn’t realize she’d groaned out loud at the thought until George spoke up from below. “What is it?”
“Nothing. I’m sorry,” she muttered quickly.
“Do you plan on settling in anytime soon?” he asked. “It sounds like a grizzly bear rolling around up there.”
She snorted. “Have you ever heard a grizzly?”
“Of course not. Have you?” George asked, a note of shock in his voice.
Lucy was almost pleased to retort, “Many times, and I assure you I sound nothing like one.”
“What’s got you so restless, then?”
“I’m too hot,” she finally admitted.
* * *
George ground his teeth against the burst of heat her words sent raging through his blood.
Surely, she hadn’t meant for them to come out sounding so sultry and sensual. It had to be his wayward imagination creating what he wanted to hear rather than what was true.
Each day and night he’d been in her company had added fuel to a fire that had been growing inside him. It now appeared to have reached a point that it was affecting his hearing.
George sat up. “Should I take a log or two off the fire?” The last couple nights had been warmer. He’d actually been thinking the cabin was getting too warm himself and had already removed his shirt for greater comfort. He hadn’t wanted to touch the fire, thinking she might be chilled.
There was a long pause before she answered in a tone that was another half groan, half sigh. “It won’t help.”
George nearly groaned himself. To keep from thinking of her thrashing about in her bed, sweat glistening on her skin, he rolled to his back and threw an arm over his eyes, then counted to five. But still, his words came out sounding tight and unnatural. “What can I do?”
There was no answer. Just more shifting movement that had him imagining her removing layer after layer of clothing until her body slid against the furs…
He couldn’t hold back the groan any longer. It was a low, tortured sound that came from deep inside where his body craved and hungered and yearned.
“George?”
He tensed from head to toe because the sound of his name, softly spoken, was way too close. He was almost afraid to lift his arm away from his eyes, but his desire was far stronger than any fear.
She stood beside him, dressed in nothing but red cotton long johns that outlined every curve and hollow of her toned female form. Her thick, black hair rested over her shoulder in a long, loose braid. Her features—lit by the flickering orange glow of fire—were drawn into an expression of hopeful determination while her eyes burned with fierce longing.
George held his breath. The muscles across his chest and abdomen tightened as he fought to keep his attraction from revealing itself in a very obvious aspect of his anatomy.
But then her gaze swept over the exposed surface of his torso, and her lips softly parted.
He exhaled in a rush, then sucked in another swift breath.
And when she lifted her hand to start releasing the buttons of her long johns, he could do nothing but stare in rapt wonder and stunned anticipation.
She was gorgeous. A goddess. A queen. A living dream in the flesh. And he was a mortal man resisting a sensual hunger unlike anything he’d ever experienced before.
He should stop her.
He should figure out how to breathe first. Then he should stop her.
She slipped the buttons free one after another until a swath of skin was exposed spanning her collarbone. Continuing down the row of buttons, she revealed her sternum and the inner curves of her breasts, providing just a narrow glimpse of her toned stomach and shadowed navel.
George’s breath expelled in a ragged, groaning sigh. He made a gallant effort. “Lucy,” he said in a tone that he meant to sound like a warning, but came out more like a plea.
She drew the red cotton off her shoulders, exposing her upper body—her full breasts and slim waist. Then she pushed the cotton down past the lovely swell of her hips. When she bent forward to tug the garment off her feet, her braid swung toward George, and he was oh-so-tempted to grasp it and wind it about his hand until she was forced down atop him.
He didn’t and was infinitely grateful for his restraint when she straightened again, fully naked, totally proud, and stunningly beautiful. Her skin glowed a warm bronze in the firelight as she bowed just her chin to look down at where he lay stiff and prone on the floor at her feet.
After a bit, he realized she was waiting.
For him.
She had so bravely offered herself, and now she waited for his response.
He blamed his desire-softened brain for not recognizing the gentle dip of inquiry in her brow.
She didn’t know if he would accept.
How could he possibly refuse? She was everything he’d ever dreamed of. Even if all they could have was this night, he’d be a fool to turn away such a gift.
And George was no fool.
His stomach tightened as he lifted his hand to her.
She slid her fingers in his almost immediately and lowered to her knees beside him as he flipped back the edge of his furs to invite her beneath them.
Stretching out on her side, she curled one arm beneath her head and rested the other on his chest. As her smooth, soft skin came in contact with his, he gave a roughened moan of pleasure. He covered them both with the fur, enclosing them in warmth. Then he turned to his side and propped his head in his hand so he could meet her tempting gaze.
Unable to keep from touching her, he brushed the backs of his fingers over the curve of her jaw, then down the slim line of her throat. “Why?” he asked.
He allowed his fingers to drift along the crest of her collarbone to her shoulder, and her lashes fluttered in response. “Because we both want this,” she answered in a husky voice, “and I knew you wouldn’t.”
“Are you certain?” He turned his hand to cover the plump curve of her breast with his broad palm before brushing his thumb over the peak. So soft. So perfectly full.
She gasped and held her breath. Her body shifted beside him—arching, seeking greater contact.
His stomach tightened. His cock hardened and throbbed with need. He was grateful he still wore his britches, or she’d discover quickly just how bad he wanted this.
She met his gaze. Her gorgeous dark eyes were soft and dreamy. The light of desire in their depths was undeniable. “Do I appear uncertain?”
George could only shake his head as he leaned forward, aching for a taste of her.
Finally.
The press of his mouth on hers was an initiation, an awakening. A swift and sudden ignition of the sparks between them.
Her lips felt like the finest satin, and she tasted like paradise. Sweet, sultry, rich.
He’d never experienced anything so perfectly decadent. He wanted more.
Sliding his hand from her breast to brace against her midback, he pulled her toward him. More warmth, smooth silkiness, softness and curves pressed to his chest and belly.
She sighed, and he groaned low in his throat. It was wonderful, but he still wanted more.
He rolled toward her, over her, laying her back on the furs as he rose above. He shifted his legs to settle between hers, pressing his hips between her thighs.
It was a helluva good thing he still had his britches on.
She slid her hands up and down the broad surface of his back. Her touch was insistent and needful as she lifted her mouth to his, claiming more of his kiss. Giving more of her own.
When her hands lowered and she gripped his buttocks to pull him more firmly to her core, he gave a guttural sound and thrust his tongue past her gasping lips. She met it immediately with her own. The velvety glide stoked the flames in them both.
She arched beneath him, pressing herself to his body, angling her head for a deeper kiss while she bent her legs to hook over his hips. A demanding hum sounded in her throat.
George adjusted to prop himself on his elbows so he could gently frame her face in between his hands. Lifting his head, he murmured roughly, “Slow down, lass. There’s no need to rush.”
“Are you sure?” she asked with a shuddering breath. “Because I feel like I need to rush.”
George chuckled, and her lashes swept open. The hunger in her eyes hit him hard in the gut, sending a stab of aching need to his groin.
He took her lips again in a hot, wet, openmouthed kiss that had her rolling her hips beneath him. Breaking from the kiss, he gave a ragged sigh. “Ah…I think I’m sure.” He sought her mouth again, unable to resist the lush sweetness there. “Maybe,” he murmured before indulging in a languorous sweep of his tongue. “No…Yes. Yes, we should slow down,” he insisted, lifting his head.
She chuckled softly as she slid her hands down his sides to rest on the waistband of his britches.
“We’ve got all night.” He flashed a grin. “Let’s make it last a while.”
She gave a nod and tipped her lips back up to meet his, but this time it was a soft, sweet kiss.
He was astounded by how perfect a single, ordinary kiss could be. The simplicity. The heat and comfort. The veil of serenity over fiercely banked fire. His heart thundered in his chest, and pangs of deep sexual hunger speared through his blood.
He wanted the moment to last forever.
He wanted a thousand—a million—more moments just like this one.
With this woman.
He loved the way she challenged him.
She filled the spaces inside him he hadn’t even realized were empty. The spaces that longed for peace and warmth and companionship. When he looked into her eyes and saw her smile, he could see a future filled with things he’d left behind long ago. He hadn’t dreamed of such things in ages. But in the last several days it had become astoundingly easy.
And although the kiss—or the silky feel of her body beneath his—didn’t promise forever, he couldn’t help but believe this was only the beginning.
Eight
Lucy had never felt anything more wonderful than George’s kiss. The touch of his mouth, the glide of his tongue, the taste of his intoxicating desire. It was everything.
Then he lightly brushed his lips back and forth across hers, and it was somehow more.
Tingling chills danced over her skin with every touch of his lips. From her jaw to her shoulder. From the pulse at the base of her throat to the center of her sternum. Light, teasing kisses. A direct contrast to the pressure and heat and hardness of his body where it pressed between her thighs.
She was about to ask him to remove the last of his clothes so she could feel his bare skin against hers…but at that moment, he brought his lips to the peak of her breast in another teasing brush of his mouth.
Lucy had had enough teasing. She slid her hands up his back to hook over his shoulders as she arched her back and lifted her breasts, seeking a deeper caress.
The sound he made reverberated straight to the sensitive flesh of her sex.
He took her breast deep into his mouth.
It was hot and wet. The twirl of his tongue was a pleasure she never could have imagined existed, and she told him so.
His laugh was a rich rumble. Turning his head to flick his tongue against the nipple of her other breast, he said, “If you think this is a pleasure beyond imagining, I can’t wait to hear what you think about the rest.”
“You’re assuming I’ll like the rest,” she challenged.
“Oh, you’ll like it,” he replied with a growl. “I’d wager on you loving it.”
Lucy gasped as he flicked and circled his tongue, but she still managed a quick retort, “Your arrogance is astounding.”
“With good reason, lass,” he replied, rising up to kiss her in a deep and fiery joining of mouths and tongues and breath. When he lifted his head again, it was to offer her a wicked wink before he slid down the length of her body beneath the furs to lift her legs over his shoulders, putting his face right in line with—
“What are you doing?” she gasped, reaching down to grasp at his arms in an attempt to pull him back up.
His breath fanned over her belly, making her insides quiver. “I promised unimaginable pleasure,” he answered in a voice that had gone rough and thick. “It’s time to pay up.”
The heat of his breath slid against her inner thighs, and she possessed just enough mindfulness to gasp a breath before she f
elt his tongue glide in a long and languid stroke along her sex. She thought she’d die from the pleasure of it.
Then he used his fingers to gently part her flesh and gave another melting stroke of his tongue.
The breath she took escaped on a heavy moan. Her fingers curled into the muscles of his arms like talons.
He continued to torment her with twirls and flicks of his tongue followed by tugging nips of his lips and the delicious draw of his mouth as he suckled her sensitive flesh. His efforts slowly increased in intensity, the pleasure tumbling over itself until she was at a loss for words, for thought, for anything at all except the sensation spiraling from where he made love to her with his mouth.
And he didn’t seem to have any intention of stopping.
The pleasure continued to crest without breaking, creating a growing sense of anticipation she didn’t quite understand. Carrying her higher and higher until she felt certain she would not survive another minute. She writhed beneath him, gasping for breath and moaning as her hands fisted and released in the furs.
While his mouth continued its magic, he pressed a long, blunt finger inside her. It was a slow, insistent possession. Beautiful in how it seemed to complete the circle of sensations her body was riding. First the liquid attention of his tongue, then the firm thrust and withdrawal of his finger.
When he added a second finger, her legs tensed involuntarily, and she wasn’t sure if it was to halt his progress or urge him on to more. The additional width and steady rhythm finally pushed her over the edge.
Pleasure burst inside her, expanding to every nerve in her body. Glittering, gasping, astounding pleasure that left her trembling.
While she slowly recovered from the stunning experience, she noted George’s attentive kisses on her inner thighs and the steady pressure of his fingers in her body. It was comforting and disconcerting as her awareness slowly returned.
Before she could start to feel awkward, he removed his fingers and pressed another kiss to her still-pulsing flesh. Then he crawled up the length of her body until his sweat-glistened shoulders loomed over her. His hips settled between hers with his hard, thick erection pressing intimately to her sex, and his stormy gray gaze met hers.
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