She’d sat up in her own room for nearly an hour arguing with herself about her silly desire. She wanted a reminder, reassurance that she could survive being a wife while continuing in her own pursuits. She realized it was foolish to believe that sleeping upon a piece of stone could do that for her.
But what if she dreamed of something important about her future? Reason won in the end; after all, it was a purely scientific experiment. She would sleep one night upon the rumored prophetic stone and see if it could help her locate the rest of those bones she knew she was meant to find.
Vanessa walked alongside the bed, moving her hand gently up the mattress to avoid falling. It seemed unlikely Graeme would be so foolish as to sleep upon it himself, but she would search beneath his pillow first.
She made her way to the head of the bed and found the pillow. Her fingertips brushed across some of Graeme’s hair, and she stopped, listening for any sound that indicated she might have awakened him, but his breathing remained steady.
Slowly she slipped her hand beneath the pillow, and her fingers met cold stone. So he had decided to try it himself. She couldn’t help but smile. He did not seem to be a superstitious man, yet he too had been curious about the legend. What would he dream of? What destiny would Graeme have learned tomorrow morning when he awoke?
To remove it without waking him would take patience and skill. She tugged on the stone, and it shifted slightly beneath his pillow.
His hand clasped onto her wrist. “Looking for something?” In one quick movement, she found herself flipped onto the bed and upon her back, a large and heavy and very seductive husband atop her.
“I merely thought to—”
“To steal my treasure,” he said, his voice dark and full of sinful promise.
She shivered in response. “No, of course not. I only wanted to sleep upon it.” She laughed. “I know ’tis foolish, but I couldn’t resist.”
“Not too foolish, considering you found it beneath my pillow.” His rich voice caressed her in the darkness, shrouding them in intimacy. It occurred to her that this was the way husbands and wives spoke to one another. Quiet murmurs in bed with the inky night around them. Whispers between lovers.
She tried in vain to remove herself.
“You want to sleep on it, you sleep on it in here,” he said. He shifted their positions so that she now lay where he’d been, the hard stone beneath her pillow. His body cradled up against hers. His arm snaked around her waist, lying heavy on her far-too-sensitive, much-too-aware flesh. As if she wore nothing at all, she could feel the heat of his arm against her abdomen. Desire coursed through her, making her focus on his every breath—every inhalation, and then the slow, warm exhalation of air that fluttered over her skin.
Graeme’s arm tightened around her, pulling her into his body so that her bottom nestled snugly against his legs. They lay there in silence for several moments, and he made no other move to touch or seduce her. She tried to fall asleep, tried to will herself to forget where she was, tried to simply relax into oblivion, but it seemed impossible.
Perhaps it was merely because of the stone. She knew it was there, knew she craved sleep and dreams, and because of that desire, sleep evaded her. That was a logical explanation. But it wasn’t the accurate one.
The truth was she couldn’t sleep because of Graeme’s body pressed to hers. His fingertips gently rubbed across her abdomen. Through the veil of her shift, she could feel his subtle touch.
Desire pooled through her, shutting off all coherent thought. She wanted him. Wanted him to touch her, kiss her, make love to her. But she would not seduce him as she’d done the first time. Instead, she’d keep to her word. If he pursued her, she would comply as was her duty as his wife.
Instinctively she shifted her body, and became abruptly aware of his erection straining against the thin fabric of her shift.
His hand grew bolder, his palm flattening against her stomach. The other hand dipped lower to rest on her thigh. Her bare thigh. How had that happened? Had he moved her shift up and she hadn’t noticed? Certainly she would have felt that. More than likely, the fabric had gotten twisted when he’d pulled her into bed and now lay askew. She tried to concentrate on keeping her breathing even, slow, and steady. She could accomplish this wifely task without losing complete hold of her senses. Women did this all the time.
His hand on her thigh moved up and down her leg, coiling desire through her veins. She longed to open herself to him, to fall onto her back and part her legs and urge him to come to her. But she held her ground. If he wanted her, he would ask for what he desired and give her no choice in the matter. She would not deny him.
His warm palm against her thigh made her skin feel alive, as if her very flesh shimmered with sensation. Fingers pushed at her shift, sneaking beneath and sliding up her leg. Vanessa sucked in her breath. What was this spell he held her under? As if his very touch bewitched her mind, emptying it of any coherent thought so she could only focus on the desire he created.
Hot breath slid across her neck and down her shoulder as he leaned closer. His well-muscled chest pressed to her back. Even without the benefit of seeing it now, she knew what his chest looked like, knew every sinewy line that traced the hard muscles of his abdomen.
He kissed her neck. One hot, moist kiss that proved to be her complete undoing. She knew in that moment that she would not leave this bed tonight.
His lips and tongue laved kisses over the tender flesh at her shoulder and across her upper back. He nipped lightly, and gooseflesh shivered over her skin.
His hand found its way to the rounded part of her hip and at the moment simply rested there, warming her skin. His other hand, though, the one wrapped under her body, slid up her stomach to cup her breast. Already her nipples were hard, tight with need.
Vanessa panted, her lips parting and her eyes fluttering closed. Moisture pooled between her legs, but she lay still. She wanted this seduction, wanted to know what her husband would do and say to make her his.
His hand at her breast cupped and kneaded the tender flesh. He tweaked her nipple, rolling it between his fingers. She arched into him. He bit her shoulder, and pressed his erection against her bottom.
Oh mercy, how she wanted him.
His hand slid from her hip to the front of her body. His fingers threaded through the curls at the juncture of her thighs, one fingertip brushing across the tender nub hidden within her folds. Vanessa’s legs parted. Now, she wanted to say, but she pressed her lips together as she opened her legs. He rolled her to him, laying her flat on the bed. He loomed over her—large, handsome, and passionate. She could not see the features of his face, but knew his green eyes would have darkened a shade and that his mouth would be set in a hard line.
His lips brushed across hers. His tongue plunged between her teeth in a greedy and hot kiss. She held nothing back as she kissed him in return, cupping his face in her hands. They continued kissing, giving and taking from one another. His hands roamed all over her body, caressing and tantalizing wherever they touched.
