With his shoulders raised up only partially, Royce was without the leverage himself to stop her, in fact aided her purpose in that position. And having no way of knowing what she intended, there had been no time to even try. He was sheathed completely before his elbows were firmly placed to support him. He was in time only to see her expression, the eyes squeezed shut, the cringe of pain that crossed her features. There was no scream, only a soft gasp.
Her features smoothed out quickly enough and she opened her eyes to look up at him. He could not control the anger that flashed over his own features.
“Will you finish too?”
“Only if you want me to.”
He groaned at such an answer, and then he laughed and fell back on her, gathering her tightly to him again, and made love to her as if his life depended on it. This was no time to question why she did the things she did. The fire that raged between them precluded all else.
Chapter Eighteen
Acooling breeze blew in the open window, the first to stir all day. It caused the candles about the room to flicker and sputter out nearly all at once.
Royce got up to fetch a candle from the hall to relight those near the bed, and Kristen shivered at the sudden loss of warmth next to her where the breeze touched her damp skin. She was ready to sleep. He obviously was not.
She turned on her side so she could watch him as he left the room, the dim shaft of moonlight that also came in through the window vaguely lighting his way. What was he thinking and feeling now? She had no way of knowing yet. But she at least had reason to doubt there was anger in his feelings, for he had been holding her close ever since they had made love the second time.
That second time had happened soon after the first, so soon Kristen had barely come back to earth from the wonder of her new experience, only to be caught up again in his passion. She smiled to herself, thinking she knew now why her parents spent so much time in their bedchamber. Brenna had tried to tell her what it was like, but there were no adequate words to describe such incredible bliss.
Royce returned, shielding a candle with the cup of his hand. The hour was late. He had made no effort to cover himself to leave the room. His nakedness apparently didn’t bother him, any more than hers unsettled her. His bothered Kristen, though—not in embarrassment, but in the realization that seeing him like this could make her want him again, this soon after her desire had been so thoroughly sated.
His body was a sculpture of firm skin and thick muscle. He was superb in physique, from the long muscular legs to the thick neck rising from those immense shoulders. The bush of dark hair that reached his neck spread out over his upper chest, but tapered to a narrow line over the hard ridges of his stomach. He was not a slim man like his cousin, but a powerful man, and Kristen knew she could never grow bored of looking at him.
The candles on the wall shelf by the bed burned again, and Royce sat down on the bed. When he didn’t lie down immediately, Kristen reached out to touch him, her fingers sliding softly up his back, then down again, teasing his hipline. She took her hand away when he turned his head to look down at her, his expression inscrutable.
“Why did you stop?”
“I do not know if you want me to touch you or not,” she admitted frankly. “I come from a family used to kissing and hugging and showing love in touching. But if you are not used to it, you will think me bold.”
“I already think you bold, wench,” he said lightly as he lay down beside her, resting his head on his palm so he could still look down at her. “God’s truth, I have never known anyone like you, who could express your love so freely, so unashamed. You make me wish it were possible to love you in return, to give you what you give me.”
Kristen closed her eyes, hoping he had not seen the regret those words caused her and, aye, pain too, that he could speak them after they had just shared hours of the most incredible loving. He didn’t have to say he couldn’t love her. He could have kept that fact to himself and let her go on hoping for a while.
She looked at him again, but her pride was stung now, prompting her to ask, “Why do you mention love?”
She saw him tense and then frown. Good. He could not hide his damaged pride as well as she had.
“I stand corrected,” he said tightly. “You have not said you love me, have you?”
“Nay, I have not. I like your body well, milord, but that is all there is between us.”
“Very well,” he sneered. “For a virgin, you do make an adequate whore.”
Kristen sucked in her breath. It was too much, this derision. And she would not accept that insult any longer, not when the reason for it no longer existed.
“Call me whore again, Saxon, and I will scratch your eyes out!” she hissed furiously.
He grinned at her anger. “’Tis a little late to be protesting what you have long admitted to.”
“Nay, I never said I was a whore. You did.”
“You never denied it.”
“You know why.”
“I do not,” he replied. “But I am most curious to know why now.”
“Then recall what you told me in this very room. You said you would rape me if I were a virgin. I wanted you, but not that way.”
