Then she looks up. “We’ve been through so much. I want to do this properly. I want us to learn about each other without the pressure of rings and vows.”
“That may be so, but I know what I want,” I tell her. “I knew the moment I saw you standing at the entrance to those caves, looking at me like you couldn’t decide whether to hug me or hit me, that I was going to ask you to be my wife, and I’m going to ask you every day until you say yes.” I take the ring from her fingers and slide it onto her hand anyway, not the marriage finger, but the one next to it. “Wear it as a promise. Wear it so you know that I’m not going anywhere. That every morning when you wake up, I’ll be there.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I’m stubborn,” I agree. “Pigheaded, too. I won’t take no for an answer. You’re going to have to get used to that.”
She laughs, and the ring glitters on her finger as she reaches up to cup my face. “I love you, Sebastian. Even when you’re being impossible.”
“I love you too.”
I kiss her back, gently at first. Her hands slide into my hair, pulling me closer, and I respond in kind. My arms wrap around her waist, crushing her against me. The taste of her fills my senses. She’s sweet, wild, and intoxicating, all rolled into one. I drink her in like a man dying of thirst.
Isla makes a soft sound against my mouth, and the last threads of my restraint begin to fray.
“We should stop,” I murmur against her lips. “Anyone could come looking for us.”
“We’re far enough from the settlement.” Her fingers are working at the laces of my shirt. “And I don’t want to stop.”
Neither do I. Gods help me, neither do I.
I pull her onto my lap. Isla straddles me, her pretty dress bunching up around her thighs, and the sight of her like this, flushed and wanting – her hair coming loose from its braid – makes my blood burn.
I find the ties at the back of her bodice, pulling them loose.
She reaches down and loosens the ties on my breeches.
I sit up a little, and she pulls them down, freeing my cock.
She presses a kiss to my jaw, my throat, the place where my pulse hammers beneath my skin.
I finish with her laces and ease the bodice open. Her breasts spill free, and I groan at the sight of them. I cup their fullness in my hands, feeling their weight, and she leans into my touch.
She gasps, and her hips rock, and her core rubs against my engorged shaft.
I’m on fire for her.
My hand slides beneath her bunched skirt, up her thigh to the heat between her legs. I find her center with my fingers and begin to stroke. Isla throws her head back, groaning deeply. She’s already wet for me, slick and ready, and the sound she makes when I touch her there is the most beautiful thing I’veever heard. I circle and press until she’s gripping my shoulders and moving against my hand.
“More,” she demands. “I need—”
“I know what you need.”
I grab her hips and lift her. Isla grips my shaft and sinks down onto me. I groan. She’s tight and so damned hot.
Then she starts to move.
Isla rides me with an abandon that steals my breath. Her hips roll and lift, finding a rhythm that has us both gasping. Her breasts bounce with each movement, and I watch, transfixed.
Her body sucks me in, holding me, making these wet noises as she bounces so sweetly.
The sounds of our bodies coming together fill the clearing, flesh meeting flesh in a primitive beat. She’s keening and groaning each time she comes down on me; her back is arched, her mouth slack.
“Look at me,” I manage.
She opens her eyes and meets my gaze.
I grip her hips and thrust up to meet her, changing the angle just enough to make her cry out. She moves faster now, chasing her release, and I chase it with her. Her breasts jerk up and down. Her mouth rounds as her channel starts to flutter around me.
