Page 89 of Kiss of Wrath

“Aren’t you tired?”

“I do not require much sleep. Besides, sex energizes me.”

She groaned.

“Go back to sleep,” he said, as disappointed as one of the children when told they couldn’t stay up late for their favorite TV show. He was pathetic, he decided.

“And what will you be doing while I sleep?”

“Watching you.”

She stared at him. “Are you serious? Do you really think I want you watching me when I’m probably drooling in my sleep or some other unattractive thing?”

“I like looking at you. I like looking at your bed-mussed head, knowing that it was created by your thrashing in the heat of lovemaking. With me. I like seeing you snore softly through lips that are swollen from my kisses. I like that your nipples are still engorged and standing out, calling for more attention. I like the few freckles that bloom on your face after a day in the sun. I like the sex flush that still colors your face and neck.”

With each reason he gave for watching her, Miranda’s jaw dropped lower and lower. But what she said was “I do not snore.”

He grinned. “Whatever you say, dearling.”

“Said like a man who wants more sex.”

He shrugged. “I do.”

“Oh, all right.”

Her lack of enthusiasm deflated his . . . enthusiasm. “I will not take an unwilling woman, or one not interested in bedplay.”

“Are you kidding? I’m a modern woman. You had me with ‘I like looking at you.’ ”

He needed no more encouragement than that and rolled to his back, taking her over with him. Then he lifted her up and over to straddle him, his staff enveloped up to the hilt in her convulsing folds. He saw stars at the intense bliss that suffused all parts of his body, but especially his thankful cock.

Meanwhile, Miranda looked like a bloody queen sitting on a throne. No longer sleepy, her green eyes twinkled with mischief as she wiggled her ass from side to side, presumably to get the right fit, but probably to tease his already heightened senses.

“Witch,” he said, putting his hands on her hips to hold her in place until he got his bearings.

“Wretch,” she said, and put her hands under her small breasts, lifting them saucily.

His cock twitched inside her.

Which caused her eyes to go wide.

You give, you get, dearling.

He took her hands, guiding her on how he wanted her to explore his body. She did more than that. She whispered praise to every part of his battle-scarred body that she touched and caressed and even kissed, the whole while with him still imbedded in her depths.

“Ride me,” he directed.

And she did, bless her modern woman’s heart.

This time he let her sleep and went into the bathroom to shower again. When he came out, he hoped selfishly that she was awake and they could have another bout of sex. Yes, he was a brute demanding so much of her, but he was a long-hungry man who could not be satisfied with just one meal. His window of opportunity might be slamming shut any minute now. Once Michael discovered what he was about.

She slept peacefully, though, with a small smile on her lips that he had put there, he hoped.

He dressed quietly in the short pants he’d worn that day, and nothing more. It was only two a.m. Checking on the children, he noted that they were all asleep. He could not dwell for very long in the room where Linda slept, her arms wrapped around a stuffed woolly lamb. She reminded him too much of Kata.

He made his way barefooted down the stairs. The kitchen light was on. He couldn’t recall having left it on, but he might have. He wasn’t unduly concerned about intruders, so secure had they made Miranda’s house. Even so, he opened the hall closet and took out the sword he’d hidden there.

He wasn’t totally surprised to find, sitting around the table, drinking what had to be the last of his beer, not just Cnut and Harek, but Ivak and Trond, as well. The fierce guard dog Ruff was on his back, legs in the air, fast asleep on his rug by the sliding patio doors, dreaming doggie dreams, interspersed with drips of drool and occasional grumbles. Wet dreams, Mordr presumed.