“Della,” Brant turned to her and grabbed her wrist lightly. He massaged the wet, sudsy pulse he found there. “Della?”
“Please.” A tear slipped over her cheek. His caress became bolder, working in slow circles to glide farther up her arm beneath her dress, testing to see her reaction. “Please, may we call a truce? Just for now. I’m too tired to fight with you.”
“Yea, Della.” Brant wondered at her sadness as he gently wiped at the tear. The moisture slid across her cheek under his thumb. “Are you still ill?”
“Nay, yea,” she mumbled with a dainty shrug. Suddenly, she leaned forward and her lips pressed firmly against his. His hand trembled as it was forced into the warmth of her hair. His palm cupped her cheek and he felt her hand glide onto his shoulder, her fingers wrapped around his neck keeping him to her. Della moaned as she traced her tongue between his lips.
Brant gasped in surprise at the bold move and she took advantage by kissing him more fiercely. A low groan escaped him. Her mouth slanted eagerly against his, delving her tongue into the warm depths. His body lurched to full attention, his muscles tightening, his arousal hard and full. She kissed him like a woman starved of his affections. Mayhap she felt as desperate as he did.
Brant moaned, finding her arms to pull her back. Della’s eyes widened, as if panicking at his withdrawal. But he only broke the kiss to quickly rinse the soap from his hair. Before she could move, he hurriedly rose from the tub. Water trailed his flesh, tiny caresses against his sensitive body. Della stood to join him. Without words, he scooped her into his arms and carried her with a gentle urgency to the bed. The moisture from his body soaked into her gown, but she didn’t seem to care as she clung to him. Afraid she’d change her mind and push him away, his movements became frantic.
He set her down on the bed, gentle despite his passion, and went to her. He touched her hair, the golden cord at her waist, the ties of her gown. She returned the kisses as fervently as she received them. She touched his wet back, her hands gliding easily over him.
Brant groaned as the familiar sensations of her caress overwhelmed him. This is where he wanted to be. Here, with her, touching her, kissing her. Nothing else mattered.
Della moaned, unable to stop herself as Brant touched her. She wanted him so badly, had waited for him to make the first move as she washed his hair, but in the end, she couldn’t hold herself back. She needed him like she needed to breathe.
His beard tickled as their mouths moved in a steady, powerful rhythm. She hadn’t realized how much she missed him and in the instant their lips met, none of the other things mattered—not the rumors of other women, not the fighting, not his heritage. She could not refuse him. She could not refuse herself.
Brant’s mouth took over the tempo of their kiss, slowing her mouth so he could explore inside. Restless and needy, her legs moved against him. Her skirt slowly edged up to expose the long line of her calves. The first rub of his naked, warm skin along her legs made her groan. He maneuvered himself between her thighs, his stiff erection pressing hard into the folds of her gown as it blocked him from her hips. She thrust against him, rubbing through her clothing.
Brant pulled at her gown, freeing a breast. Instantly, his warm hand was on the flesh, massaging it as he moved his hips in slow, agonizingly perfect circles. Her sex was wet and tingling and she needed more.
“Look at me, Della,” Brant commanded, staring down at her. Her eyes remained closed as she rubbed sensually along his frame. In a gentler tone, he urged, “Look.”
“Brant,” she moaned as she opened her eyes. His gaze shone brightly with an emotion she could not understand. He was so beautiful it made her heart ache with bittersweet joy. So many questions floated between them. None of them were answered as they silently drank in the comfort of the other’s presence.
“I want you to be sure this is what you want,” he said.
Della didn’t know what she would do if he were to try to deny her. She wasn’t sure her body would let her stop. She ached for him too badly.
Brant’s hips pulled back. Della breathed hard, panting as she reached for her skirt. Grabbing it, she urged the material up to expose her upper thighs. He looked down between their bodies and made a weak noise. Her dress rode even higher, showing him how ready she was, how wet and willing. Unable to say the words in her heart, she said the only thing she could, “Make love to me, Brant. I want you to.”
Brant’s eyes shone passionately at her. His lips curled with the familiar sultry smile. He touched her shoulder, slowly drawing his fingers over the tender flesh there. Della moaned and arched a breast toward his lips. He grinned, kissing her collarbone instead.