“And I am grateful you are mine, too,” she murmured.
Her lips moved, finding his neck. And then the sharp nip of her teeth tore a groan from him.
“Damn it, wife. What you do to me.”
“Tell me.” Her words were a hushed whisper of sound against his ear.
Bloody hell.Was she seducing him? Just before dawn when the morning and the day could bring any manner of hailstorm?
She kissed his ear, then his jaw, and he had his answer.
Yes. She was.
And it was working.
She tugged her wrist free of his loose grasp and smoothed her hand down his chest. Two could play at this game. He caught her hand in his once more and moved her touch lower, sending fire in its sensual wake. When she reached his cockstand, she made a soft sigh of appreciation as her fingers encircled him.
“This is what you do to me, love,” he said, releasing her as she stroked his shaft. “You make me hard.”
You make me love you.
But those were words he tucked into his heart, a confession which was not yet his to make. If he was not able to prove his innocence and he faced prison or worse, that declaration would only make the necessity of their goodbye far more painful. So instead, he closed his eyes and surrendered himself to the pleasure.
To the present.
To Elysande’s knowing hand. Her thumb traced his tip, coating his leaking seed over him. He wanted her so much, he could scarcely breathe. Yes, desire. This was what he needed to concentrate on. Not anything but her.
“I love touching you,” she whispered, kissing the corner of his lips.
He plunged his fingers into her silken hair, cupping her head and bringing her where he wanted her. Their lips met in a kiss that was hard and hungry. He had wanted to be gentle, to show her the way he felt for her in the care he took with her body. And yet, now that her lips were on his and she was stroking his cock, he was on the edge of madness.
His other hand found its way to her hip, so curved and perfectly feminine, then slid over her thigh to find the center of her where she was hot and wet. So wet. He parted her seam, discovering the plump bud of her clitoris awaiting his eager fingers. Knowing how she liked to be touched, he toyed with her, withholding the pressure he knew she craved.
She made a sound of frustration and nipped his lower lip.
She wanted him too, then. Good. He would give her himself. Give her everything he had to give. If this was to be the last time they made love, he wanted her to remember it.
To rememberhim.
Even as his heart railed against the impossibility of being torn from her, his mind acknowledged the possibility. All he had was here and now.
He slid a finger into her cunny, pleased when she moaned again and rocked her hips, bringing him deeper. Yes, this was what he could deal in. Pleasure. Raw and carnal and physical. He could only control what happened here and now, between them.
Nothing more.
The tight clench of her around his finger and the stroke of her hand on his cock became his sole concerns. Those, and the breathy mewls of need hatching from her throat. He fucked her lightly, slowly, using his thumb to work her pearl. She was slick, but he wanted her wetter. He wanted to ruin her for any other man who might follow, should he go to prison.
He was selfish and greedy and he wanted to be the only man. He would do everything in his power to make certain that was possible. But part of him remained practically cynical. He had witnessed the ugly side of human nature, the depths of evil, far too many times. Nothing was certain. Nor was it guaranteed. Not his freedom, not this woman.
Hell, not even his next breath.
Life was a gift.
Shewas a gift.
And he intended to treat her as such. Her hand constricted as she gained confidence, but he was determined to win this battle of seduction. His middle finger joined the other, and he was rewarded by another rush of dew when he crooked his fingers in the way he knew drove her wild. He simultaneously pressed his thumb against the hooded bundle of flesh.
She tightened on him, gasping as she came, flooding his fingers. Wetness dripped from her in a rush, pooling on the bedclothes. He wanted to lap it up, but she had not released her hold on him.
