“Trick.” His name hung in the air, not a protest this time, but an entreaty. He raised his head, measuring her and apparently liking what he saw. In the next moment, he dropped to his knees, and one hand found its way beneath her wet skirts.
He worked it up, up, and before she knew what was happening, he’d plunged a finger into a place that was wetter still.
Dear heavens. Her knees felt about as substantial as jellied fruit. Slowly, seductively, he worked his finger in and out, holding her gaze with his. It was shocking and probably wicked, but she couldn’t focus on any of that, because something was happening to her. She started tingling and shaking all over.
Just when she knew she would collapse to the floor, he drew away and rose to his feet. “Let’s get you dry.”
Her breath came out in a rush. She nodded wordlessly, the only response she could manage—but it seemed to be enough for him.
In no time at all he had her stripped, her hair wrapped in one towel while he briskly rubbed her with another. The rough strokes sent her blood coursing like a spring flood. When he was finished, her skin was dry and warm and sensitive beyond whatever she could remember. At his lightest touch, she felt pleasure spiraling through her.
He raised one of her limp hands and ran his fingers over the amber stones that circled her wrist. “You’re wearing it,” he murmured.
“I—it matched my dress.”
He glanced down to the gown on the floor. “Aye. Purple and amber—they go together so well.”
She blushed, but he only laughed, a warm sound that rippled right into her.
He started ripping his own clothes off, his gaze on hers commanding her to watch. She backed away and sat on the edge of the bed, unwrapping her hair to towel it dry. Her eyes widened at the sight of him, tall, rangy and lean, with long, ropy muscles.
When his breeches slid down, her gaze slid down along with them. He was still as big as ever. Bigger, even, she would swear. Her breath caught as a tremor of panic took her by surprise.
What if Cait were wrong? What if it worked for most people, but in this case…what if he really wouldn’t fit? She remembered the pain, and her lids slid closed.
“Kendra?”
He sounded so concerned. Trying to smile, she opened her eyes. But despite herself, she couldn’t help where her anxious gaze was fastened.
His own gaze followed. “I promise you, it won’t hurt.”
“I know. Caithren told me.”
His eyes snapped back up to meet hers. “When?”
“After you left.” She bit her lip.
“You didn’t believe her, though, did you?”
“Yes.” She nodded frantically. “Yes, I did. And I came here wanting…”
“But then…” he prompted, waiting expectantly.
When she didn’t continue, he sighed. “I knew this was too good to be true.” His eyes slid closed momentarily, then opened and burned into hers. “Listen,” he said, reaching to draw her up to stand before him. “The night before I left, you wanted me to touch you, aye?”
Like a simpleton, she stood there with her arms dangling loose by her sides. “Yes, but—”
“I wanted more than that. You know I did. I’ve thought of nothing but you since the moment I rode away.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks—and other parts of her body. She’d thought of him, too, and how he could make her feel. She wanted to feel that again. This fear was irrational, and she had to overcome it.
But that was easier said than done.
“Trick—”
“Look at me.”
When she did, he wrapped his arms around her waist. “I’ve told you I won’t take you against your will, and I meant every word. But I’m finished playing games.”
