Elizabet could do nothing but cling to him.
She wanted his kisses, needed his embrace more than anything she’d ever needed in her life.
He combed his fingers through her hair, his expression full of ardor. “I wish you would wear it this way always,” he entreated.
Jesu, in that instant, Elizabet would have done anything he asked if only he continued to kiss her.
Dare she hope?
Sometimes the most beautiful things came from the most hideous circumstances, her mother had once said.
Could it be true?
He gazed at her adoringly, brushing her hair with his fingers, and she melted into his arms. “It shimmers by candlelight,” he told her.
“Hush,” she demanded, and like a wanton, reached up on tiptoes, letting her head fall back in supplication. She didn’t care. She wanted his kisses. “Kiss me again,” she beseeched him.
She didn’t have to ask twice.
Broc took her mouth with a helpless groan.
It didn’t escape him that she hadn’t answered his question as yet, but it didn’t matter right now. Like a drunkard drawn to his drink, he bent to taste her once more, reveling in the sweet softness of her lips. If she would refuse his offer of marriage, so be it, but he wasn’t strong enough to walk away from whatever she was willing to give.
Before her, he was like a beggar with his hand outstretched. He wanted her heart but would settle for her body. He wanted her love but would settle for her passion. He wanted her forever but he would cherish the moment.
“Open your mouth,” he whispered.
He wanted inside.
She parted her lips, and his body shuddered in response. She had no notion what it was she was doing tohim or how fevered he was becoming. She couldn’t possibly know. Years of abstinence had left him weak for her. Her hands gripped his shoulders in supplication, and he understood better than she what it was she yearned for. He wanted it, too. His body hardened fully.
It had been far too long.
He wanted her far too much.
Thirsting for the taste of her, he thrust his tongue between her lips, savoring the silky depths of her mouth. She moaned softly, and he deepened the kiss, embracing her covetously, lest she end the kiss too soon. The scent of her was driving him mad. The taste of her mouth left him intoxicated.
Without a word, he lifted her into his arms, never breaking the kiss, and carried her to the pallet in the corner of the room. He didn’t want to give her the chance to refuse him, but he didn’t want to ravage her, either. If she would deny him, so be it, but he felt a desperation to join with her unlike anything he’d ever felt in his life.
Tomorrow might be too late.
He didn’t want to think about the consequences right now, nor the threat that hovered over them both. Nor did he want to think about what she would do when she discovered that her brother was dead. It mattered not that his death wasn’t at Broc’s hands. He was afraid she would blame him once she discovered the truth.
But he wasn’t going to think about that right now. He wanted only to feel her from the inside. He wanted to bury himself deep within her, spill his seed into her womb.
He laid her gently down, kissing her still.
Elizabet held on to him, afraid he would leave her. Her hands went about his neck, holding him fast. She was drowning in his ardor but afraid to breathe, lest themoment be lost. Never had she felt so hungry for a man’s embrace. It was as though his kiss had awakened some dormant yearning and if he dared to stop, she would be left unfulfilled.
Only after he pulled himself away from her, peering down into her face, did she become fully aware of where she lay. He hovered over her, watching her intently, his eyes glittering with some unnamed emotion.
Swallowing convulsively, her hand slid from his neck to his bare chest, her heart beating so fiercely that she thought it would burst. Like warm silk, his muscles danced beneath her palm. Reveling in the feel of his skin, her hand slid beneath the sash that fell across his chest only to discover a soft patch of fine hair that made her yearn to tangle her fingers within it.
He was a feast for her eyes... and hands... her senses...
He clasped his hand over hers and moved it to cover the sash. “Finish what you started,” he whispered.
For an instant, she didn’t understand what he meant, but then he squeezed her hand, forcing her to take a firm grasp of his dress.
