She made a purring noise and released one hand to tug at the neck of her chemise. “Take it off,” she whispered between kisses.“Off.”Her movements were ineffectual, hands flopping, fingers stubbing. The chemise was a tangle between them. Luke allowed her to struggle. Just because he wanted her naked didn’t mean it should happen.
He would, he thought, reserve one section of his brain for rational thought. Their embrace was ongoing, obviously, but he couldn’t hold her for long—he couldn’t hold her all night. It couldn’t happen all the way to the end. He would kiss her, he would imprint the taste and feel of her on his memory, a beautiful fern preserved in hard rock. Then he would deliver her to the baroness’s suite and lock himself on the other side of the door. The annulment hinged on her chastity. They could not consummate the marriage, even in a fit of passion, even one time. He must not allow himself to be carried away.
“Bannock,” she cried, her voice a soft plea.
“M’étoile,”he replied. It was careless to speak to her in terms of endearment. He should not think of her in relation to the stars or the heavens or his guiding light. He should not think of her in the way he truly wanted to think of her, ashis wife.
“Don’t think,” she sang softly.
“Hmmm?” He’d never struggled more for a coherent thought.
“The nightmares are a result of your brain working too much. It is possible to overthink, Bannock. Even in your sleep, your brain spins memories into nightmares. Can you pause for a night and simply feel the...?”
He kissed her deeper and she didn’t finish. He couldn’t allow himself to be beguiled. His survival—even more important, the survival of Linus Welty—hinged on knowledge and planning. Her future hinged on him leaving her unclaimed. Thinking less hobbled him; it made it so they couldn’t go back.
“Your brain is churning,” she whispered between kisses. “I can feel it.”
“You want to feel something?” he challenged, crowding her against the bed. He let go of her—simply dropped her—expecting her to tumble downward. But she didn’t understand—damn her innocence—she held tight, clinging to him, a bear cub in a tree.
Luke tried again, more gently this time, leaning over the bed, going down with her. When she lay prone, he aligned his hardness between her legs. He pressed against her.
“Do you feelthat?”
“Oh.”She sucked in a desperate breath and cinched her ankles around his waist, locking herself to him. It was the most exquisite torture.
“What do you feel?” he hissed.
“I feel... I feel so good.”
“Good in what way?”
“Like a burn—but pleasurable. Like enough but also not enough. Like... like...”
He was trying to make a point, but she was so bloody honest, and earnest, and innocent.
“If I don’tthink, Princess,” he panted, “if I’m not incredibly controlled, that burn will carry us away.”
“Do you not feel it, too?”
He was gutted by all she did not know, and it made him want to vanquish her innocence, to claim it. Without thinking, he pressed again. She broke the kiss and tossed her head, pressing her cheek into the coverlet, breathing hard.
“Oh yes, I feel it,” he growled. “I feel too much.”
“How can you feeltoo much?”
It should not have been a challenge—itwasn’ta challenge—but he wanted to show her just how much she could feel. To bring her to the brink. To tease, and torture, and play—
Suddenly he had an idea. Miraculous, considering the fog of lust in his brain. Maybe it was less of an idea, and more of a need disguised as an idea. But it would mean they didn’t have to stop—not now, at least, not this second. Later, they would stop; but not immediately. He could give her pleasure; he would give her so much bloody pleasure, she would never forget him. It could be done. If he was careful. If he kept control. Her body would be an instrument and he would play it—but he would not abscond with it. She was not his to take.
“Give me your leg,” he growled, reaching back. He swept his hand up her leg to the ticklish spot beneath her knee. Wiggling his fingers, he teased the sensitive skin. Danielle giggled and clamped down on his hand, trapping his fingers between her calf and thigh. Now her leg was bent like a frog, and he pressed it to the side, opening her. She had one leg open to him, the other around his hip, and he rocked against her. He was rewarded with a rapturous little keening noise. She rose her hips to meet him.
Luke chuckled and made a tsking sound and released her bent leg, dropping it down the side of the bed.
Now he reached behind him for the other leg, still wrapped around his hip. He massaged her leg until he found her knee, then he tickled her again. He was rewarded again with laughter, and she clamped her leg to trap his hand. He bent her leg, doubling it, kissing her all the while. He pressed the bent leg to the bed, splaying her open to him. When her center was exposed, he thrust against her.
“Bannock...”she moaned.
“Hmmm?” he asked playfully, dropping the second leg down the side of the bed.
