The rain had died down around them, falling in staccato bursts from the branches of the towering pine.
Lightning crackled in the distance, thunder following as it always does. The storm around them had moved on, but the storm within Eva was only beginning.
As Finn’s fingers toyed with her most intimate places, Eva ran her hand down his hard length, eliciting a groan that emboldened her further. With several tugs she managed to get his trews off.
The more attention he gave her, however, the more difficulty she had focusing. He caught her moan with a kiss as he lowered himself toward her, positioning his manhood where his fingers had been mere moments earlier.
Slowly, he entered her.
Eva needed more. “Finn,” she begged, lifting her hips to bring him deeper inside her.
Every muscle in his body tightened against her. He moved in deeper in one swift thrust, surprising her with the pain of it.
Even as she thought to tell him, the discomfort ebbed.
He brought his hand between them, his finger circling her most sensitive area while he held perfectly still inside her. She felt him throbbing, heard his strained breathing—this man who was one of the fittest in the kingdom—as he used all his will to wait for her comfort. Desire swelled in her again, an ache that began in her stomach and pooled where his finger worked. She lifted her hips again, and this time Finn caught them in his hands.
He moved inside her faster, faster, each thrust as electric as a strike of lightning. Eva cried out as the storm within her broke, reaching for Finn. He thrust deep inside her one final time before collapsing into her outstretched arms.
He lifted his head enough to touch his forehead to her own, his hand playing with her hair.
She smiled at him, kissing his nose. She felt as though she could take on the whole world, as though no problem would be too much as long as she had Finn.
Finn sat up, pulling her into his lap and wrapping his arms about her. With a sigh, he lowered his chin on her head.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, suddenly rather self-conscious. She’d never done that before, and though she’d thoroughly enjoyed it, perhaps he hadn’t. “Did I do it wrong?”
He chuckled and she felt his head shaking above hers. “That was incredible,” he told her. “You did it exactly right.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“I just realized that your brother is probably going to kill me.”
Eva choked back a laugh. “Don’t tell him yet,” she replied. “I will ask Brian if he would consider allowing us to marry first. And I can tell my brother we are to be wed so he has no opportunity for murder.”
“We should tell him together,” Finn’s tone told her of the import of the statement. “If it were my sister, I’d want to hear it from him, too.”
Eva nodded. She understood that. Finn and Dallan had grown close over the past months, and Finn’s loyalty to her brother was something that had endeared him to her from the beginning.
But asking permission from Brian and Dallan was a problem for tomorrow.
Tonight belonged to Finn, and Eva planned to spend all of it with him.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Finn swore againas yet another thorn pierced tender flesh on the bottom of his foot. He heard Dallan do the same just behind him as they raced through the forest surrounding Cenn Cora. Summer had reached its height, surpassed it, even, and the whole world glowed a bright, sun-drenched green. The midday sun shone hot, high overhead in a clear blue sky. A series of late season storms had ushered in a layer of new growth, promising a challenging run through the wooded hillside.
The thought of a rainstorm, and the delicious memories that accompanied it, distracted Finn. He stepped on a second thorn, gritting his teeth and keeping his pace. Stepping on a thorn was only the first part of the upcoming trial. After stepping upon the thorn, he had to remove it without slowing down. A simple task, but not an easy one as it turned out.
Finn broke through the tree line at the top of the hill moments before Dallan.
“Did you do it?” Conan asked, walking over to Dallan.
Of the four of them, Dallan struggled the greatest with this particular trial.
Diarmid strode confidently across the field, joining them near the forest’s shadowy edge. He stretched out his arms in a dramatic gesture. “Well?” he pressed.
Dallan grimaced, shaking his head of dark curls. “This trial will be the death of me,” he uttered angrily.
