“Barely.” She glanced over her shoulder to find him grinning at her.
Then she realized something. “Did Masakage stay out all night?”
His grin widened.
“What did you do?”
“Masakage isn’t the only one who can spell a door and keep others out.”
“Impressive, but isn’t he likely to be upset?”
His warm hand cupped her breast. “Do you think I care?”
Obviously not. “Don’t we have to get going this morning?”
“It can wait.”
Biting her lip, she groaned as he moved his hand lower to tease her. “Can it?” she breathed.
He laughed in her ear. “Do you really want me to stop?”
No. Even though she knew how important their mission was, would an hour make that much difference?
Or two?
“Is that a no, princess?”
She ground herself against his fingers as they teased her. “Don’t you dare stop.”
Laughing, he laved the nape of her neck.
Chills ran the length of her entire body. Last night had been miraculous, but this was even more so.
His breathing turned ragged in her ear and then, he was filling her from behind.
Gisela gasped at the fullness of him inside her, especially when he began to thrust. Reaching over her head, she burrowed her hand in his soft, wavy dark locks. Her heart pounded as he quickened his strokes while his hand continued to tease and torment her with pleasure.
Xaydin growled in her ear at the incredible sensation of her in his arms. She was right, they did need to be on their way. But…
How could he resist her? She was exquisite. Delectable. And her taste, feel and scent had branded him hers. He’d never felt like this before.
And when she came in his arms with a fierce cry, he felt a satisfaction that was indescribable. No one else had ever made her feel this way, and he took pride in the fact that he was able to give her something no one else had. That she trusted him when she, like him, never trusted anyone.
This was special, and he treasured it as such.
Burying his face against her neck, he growled as he found his own release.
Gisela smiled as he tightened his hold on her. She felt enveloped by his body. Every inch of her was pressed against him. It was both overwhelming and yet thrilling.
Running her hand down his forearm, she closed her eyes and sighed. She should feel trapped or even oppressed by a hold like this. In the past, she’d hated being constricted in any way. But there was something comforting in his embrace.
She didn’t feel trapped, she felt…
Loved. Wanted.
It was so intimate that she wasn’t quite sure what to think or make of this. Did it mean he cared about her?
Don’t be ridiculous.
