I shut him up with a kiss. Every sensation amplifies – the roar of the fire warm on my back, the coolness of his body as he presses himself against me, the taste of winter spices and haunted places in the rough, breathless kiss that has us both panting, the hard length of him pressing against my thigh.
Is he … um …thatbig?
“You are tough to resist,” he murmurs, his hands gripping my arms.
“So don’t resist.”
His lips crush against me, breaking through every last bit of willpower that I possess. My hands slide into his hair,tangling my fingers in those long curls. A low groan slips from his lips. He wraps his hands around me, pressing us together so I can feel his chest press against mine with every ragged breath, and spins me around so I’m the one with my back against the door, his weight against me, caging me in. As if there was any chance I’d run from him.
His lips trail down my neck as he laughs, sending goosebumps down my body. “If I’d known that plotting against my mother was the way to get you into bed, I’d have introduced you on the first day.”
A laugh bubbles up inside me, bursting warm against his lips. “That’s a lie. You didn’t want me when we first met. You thought I was an annoyance sent by Reginald to colour-code your teddy bears and throw away your swords.”
“Winnie, from the moment I smelt you in the pub, you have possessed me utterly. I am already yours.”
His voice is so serious, it makes my heart hum in the back of my throat. “Next thing you know, you’ll tell me that you’ve organised all your paintbrushes by size, and you’ll have my panties on the floor.”
“Are you telling me that if I talk about the benefits of clear storage containers over opaque, I will finally see what you’ve been hiding under your blouse?” His hands skim the hem of my shirt.
“Lord Valerian, you don’t need to talkthatdirty to me.” I place my hand on the toned plane of his chest, pushing him back so I have enough space to peel off my dress and toss it to the floor.
I can’t believe I did that.
I’ve never stripped in front of a guy before, never made such a bold move. And now I’m standing here in my purple lace bra and knickers, fighting the urge to cover my lumpy bits, second-guessing my boldness.
Alaric’s eyesfeaston my body, as if he’s been alone in this castle forcenturiesand has forgotten what tits look like. I stop feeling nervous and self-conscious, and start wanting him to look at me some more.
“Winifred.” He whispers my name with reverence as he reaches for me. I gasp a little at his cool touch as he runs his fingers delicately, slowly over the lace of my bra, across my stomach, over the curve of my breast. Softly, gently, trembling as he holdsbacksomething.
I shiver at his touch, wanting more than slow and light. I want him to devour me.
I grab the back of his head and pull his lips to mine, tasting his spicy winter scent as he pushes me against the door with such force that the wood creaks. The sumptuous fabric of his old-fashioned coat does little to hide the hard lines of his body or his arousal.
That’s more like it.
There are way too many clothes on both of us.
Keeping my lips on his, my fingers make their way down his chest and to his belt, trying to undo the leather contraption.
What the heck? Is this thing from the seventeenth century? Why so many clasps and things?
Alaric laughs into my mouth before pressing his forehead to mine. “Let me help you with that, wife.”
“I thought I was your fake-fiancée?”
“You are. But since we’re pretending, it pleases me to pretend you’re my wife.”
As soon as the dreaded belt falls to the floor, I meet his gaze, falling into those dark, fathomless eyes. My chest fills with helium as I make quick work of unbuttoning his pants and unsheathing his cock.
Um, excuse me, how is this thingreal?
I try to wrap my fingers around the shaft, but barely get around it. I pump my fist, slowly, stroking his length, feeling the raised vein and beautifully-shaped head, already wet with his desire for me.
“Winnie …” Alaric moans, his eyes drifting shut.
“Lord Valerian, it is an injustice that you’ve been hiding this away in a draughty old castle,” I scold him as I stroke him again. “The women of Argleton should have been worshippingthis.”
“There’s only one woman I want,” he growls, his lips crushing mine. His hand cups me behind my head, fingers winding in my hair as I stroke him and try not to worry about how he’s going to fit inside me.
