Page 38 of Raven in Midwinter

He was, without question, the most incredible man. From the beginning he’d had faith in me, accepted my magic, and been practical in the face of absolute craziness that would have sent a lesser man to therapy. I was blessed to have him as my mate.

“What are you wearing?” I squinted at Lorne, changing the subject, needing to, not wanting to break down crying.

He shivered, then huffed out a breath.

“Are those breeches?”

He shook his head. “Shall I start from the bottom and work my way up?”

“Yes, please,” I husked, catching my breath as I stared my fill of him. He was, and had always been, a beautiful man, but now, eyes glinting as he held my gaze, I was overwhelmed being close to him.

He lifted his foot. “These are Hessian boots.”

I nodded as a slow, sexy grin curled his lush lips.

“And no, these are not breeches but in fact simply trousers that have straps underneath so they don’t ride up my legs. That’s never good.”

“No, of course not,” I agreed, stepping closer, needing to be closer.

“I have a linen shirt on under my silk waistcoat, and on top is my double-breasted frockcoat that you can plainly see.”

“All the navy-blue suits you.”

“Giles has a companion, a friend he brought through the veil with him, who is very interested in what I wear,” he informed me with an arch of his brow as he took Argos from me and placed him gently on the floor. The cat sprinted to a massive four-poster bed, leaped up onto it, then lay down at the end.

I stepped in against him, my hands on his hips as I stared up into his inky-blue eyes. “This woman dresses you?”

“It’s either her choice or I go naked. So I wear them now that she knows she can’t enchant them, and she understands I won’t eat anything I don’t prepare myself.”

“She tried to poison you?”

“I think her intention was to coerce me, bend me, but I knew better than to eat what was served to me. I live with you, and I watch you add ingredients to your bread and muffins, and sprinkle herbs in my soup. I feel your love in the things you make for me, so wouldn’t the reverse be true? Couldn’t I be made pliable if she fed me?”

“You’re very clever,” I praised him.

“Oh, I know.”

I smiled. “I love you very much.”

“I know that too.” He took my face gently in his hands.

“I was so scared.”

He made a noise in the back of his throat, like a growl or a rumble, before kissing me.

My whine was loud. I couldn’t help it. I was desperate to taste him, to have him, to remind him whom he belonged to.

He wrapped me in his arms, and I pressed against him tight, my hands clawing at his back, wanting everything off, nothing between us, just his skin on mine.

I bit him, and he chuckled into my mouth, breaking the kiss to gulp air before recapturing my lips, the kiss becoming devouring, mauling, his teeth bumping my lips.

I was writhing in his arms, against him, and then I was off my feet and crushed against his hard, muscular chest, my legs wrapped around his hips before we fell down onto the bed and I was pinned under him. Only then, with the weight of him, his heat, his smell, did I break the kiss and tell him I was filthy.

“Not yet, but you’re gonna be.”

It took my brain a moment to process that cheesy line—he had all my senses clouded with passion, after all. When I did, I gasped loudly.

“No, that was supposed to be sexy,” he muttered irritably, rolling off me so we were lying side by side.