Earl of Hearts(29)

He seemed to understand her concern. "Just close your eyes and feel. Don't hold back."

His big, rough hands then began to stroke along her body, starting  little fires wherever he touched. He cupped her breast and ran his thumb  across its tip, evoking a gasp from her at the sudden, pleasurable  sensation.

"So beautiful," he whispered and closed his mouth over her breast. She  gasped again. In truth, she was having trouble catching her breath as he  began to suckle and swirl his tongue in languid strokes across the tip  of it, soon followed by intensifying flicks.

"John!" Mother in heaven, she felt everything. How could she possibly  hold back when every pulse in her body was throbbing and her blood was  on fire?

In no time, he'd ignited her desire so that her skin was molten and about to burst into flames.

She clutched his shoulders.

She arched her back, desperate to quell the scorching heat within her.  But the touch of his lips upon her body intensified her wanton needs.  The sensual roughness of his day's growth of beard caused her skin to  tingle wherever he touched.

Then he moved lower.

"Open for me, Nicola," he said with a huskiness to his voice that shot more tingles through her body.

She did not know what he meant by the request until he gently nudged her  legs apart and set his shoulders under them. Then his mouth came down  upon her most intimate spot. She was shocked by the feel of his tongue  on her, but the urge to protest died in her throat. A delicious heat  began to build inside of her. How was it possible when she was already  on fire? The blood coursing through her veins was a hot, thick pool of  desire.

She was lost to him and he knew it.

He meant to claim her, to mark her as his, for he was no longer the  protector, but the hunter capturing his prey. He captured her with the  hot touch of his mouth and the gentle stroke of his fingers. She  clutched the headboard, afraid she might float into the clouds if she  did not hold fast to something solid.

His tongue swirled on her …  thrust inside her. "John. Oh …  my, heavens."  She could feel the tug and strain of his muscles against her calves.  This had to be sinful. It felt too deliciously wicked to be anything  other than a forbidden pleasure.

Why had she never read about this in her scandalous books?

Obviously, she was reading the wrong books.

Heat built within her. Her heart pounded with a roar so that she heard  nothing but its frantic beat. She felt nothing but the mounting pressure  between her legs. Just as she thought she might explode, he moved off  her to remove his breeches. She felt cool air against her most intimate  part and then felt the hard length of him as he positioned himself over  her. "Nicola … "

"Yes, I want you." Was that desperate, aching voice hers?

She held out her arms to him and felt the damp warmth of his skin as he  enveloped her in his embrace. His sinewed heat and the strength of him  surrounded her. She felt a moment's pain when he entered her, his  thrusts cautious at first. He must have wanted her body to grow used to  his before he allowed himself to lose control.

Would he lose control? She hardly dared believe that she held such power  over him. He was guarded in everything he did. But she saw his iron  control slipping, saw the wild heat in his hunter eyes, the feral strain  of his body as he fully embedded himself inside her and began their  wild mating dance.

The discomfort she'd felt now melted away.

She closed her eyes as exquisite sensations washed over her. The feel of  his chest rubbing against hers. The iron bands of his arms wrapped  around her body. The gentleness and strength of his hands guiding her  movements to match his.

She gripped his shoulders, her fingers digging in and afraid to let go,  for he was carrying her along on a magical journey and she did not want  it to end. Mother in heaven, the sensations he evoked! The slick heat of  him inside of her. The rugged, masculine scent of him. Sandalwood and  saddle leather. The salty taste of his skin.         

     



 

The arousing touch of his rough, calloused fingers along her skin. He  was making her feel him. Making her know him. Know his scent. Know the  taste of his mouth on hers. Know his touch upon her skin.

An overwhelming pressure built inside her. She tried to hold down this  unfamiliar feeling, but it was to no avail. She was caught in its  powerful grip and carried on a scorching wave crest of desire. More  waves followed, endless waves that swelled and crested, lifting her to  shuddering and explosive heights. "I'm lost to you, John. I love you."

Had John heard her whispered revelation? Her voice sounded muffled, for  her heart was pounding as loud as the roar of a lion and echoing between  her own ears.

"John. John," she whispered, kissing his face.

She loved this man with all her being.

Her heart was his.

With a deep, grunting thrust, he experienced his own release. His liquid  essence spilled inside of her. His eyes were smoldering embers. His big  shoulders were taut and his muscles straining. He was a magnificent  creature, wild and powerful, and wanting her.

She clutched his shoulders as he gave a final, shuddering thrust and  collapsed atop her, his skin warm and damp from the exquisite heat of  his pleasure.

He did not have to tell her that he loved her.

She knew it without words, for he'd spilled his seed inside of her.

He was no untried youth who could not contain himself. He knew what the  consequences of their mating might bring. A child. His child.

He could have held back. He could have withdrawn, but he hadn't. "I love  you," she whispered again, knowing he would never repeat the words to  her. But by his actions, she knew that he had given himself to her.

As their passion began to cool, their ragged breaths and gasps and moans  of pleasure dying down, John carefully pulled out of her and then sank  onto his back. After a long moment, he grinned at her, then reached out  and drew her back into his arms. "How do you feel?"

She smiled at him. "Quite starry-eyed, if you must know. I never considered …  I had no idea …  I floated to the stars."

"So did I."

"Don't tease me, John."

He growled softly, a raw, predatory growl that shot tingles through her  body. He rolled her atop him and kissed her on the nose. "I'm serious.  You are an enchantress."

She playfully swatted his shoulder and laughed. "Now I know you're teasing me."

"Cross my heart, it's the truth." He kissed her once more, this time on the lips. "Come on, brat. Time to get up."

She scampered off him and out of bed, but paused to look back at him as  he rose, splendid and naked, on the other side of the bed. He was the  enchanting one, his body as magnificent as any Greek warrior god  depicted in marble. "What is it, Nicola?"

She drew her robe on to cover herself, but she wasn't embarrassed so  much as cold now that the fire had died, leaving only a few embers  glowing in the hearth. "We're truly married."

He grunted. "Yes, for better or for worse."

She frowned lightly. "It will always be for the better. We have each  other now. You are no longer alone, John. Although I will respect your  privacy whenever you feel the need for it."

He shook his head and laughed. "Nicola, I know you too well. You will  trample all over my privacy. I shall never have a moment's peace." He  came around to her side of the bed and drew her into his arms. "But it  isn't a bad thing. You grow on a man."

"Like mold on tree bark?"

He sighed. "Your description, not mine. There is nothing moldy about you. Wash up and get dressed. It's almost sunrise."

They used the last ewer of fresh water to wash themselves, then John  helped her to dress and then dressed himself. "There are tarts left over  from last night. Have one before we go."

He reached over and grabbed one for himself, devouring it in two bites.  He checked his pouch once again to assure himself the book and rolled-up  deciphering parchment was still there, then buckled it and tossed it  over his shoulder. "We'll stop at an inn along the way and fill our  bellies with something hot and nourishing. Hopefully, Somersby's men  will be nowhere about."

She quickly finished braiding her hair and then grabbed her shawl. "I'm ready."

John opened the door, holding her back while he checked to see if anyone was stirring. "All clear."

He took her hand in his while they hurried outside to fetch Valor. John  saddled him and led him out of the stable before assisting her up and  climbing on behind her. She nestled against his chest and let the warmth  of his arms encircle her, feeling a moment of contentment.         

     



 

Did John feel the same?

She doubted it.

He was once again tense and alert, his hunter-predator instincts in full  control as he spurred Valor to a canter. Within moments, they lost  sight of the stable and were swallowed up in the gray mist that clung to  the crags and valleys.