The Chief (Highland Guard #1)(72)

What was wrong with him? He was out of control, angry and more aroused than he’d ever been in his life. He felt ready to explode, his body straining with the pressure of the passion she’d stoked inside him. But he needed more. Damn it, he needed to look into her eyes.

He positioned himself between her legs, lifting them to wrap around his waist. Gripping her bottom, he thrust hard inside her, groaning with the relief of being back in the grip of that tight, wet heat.

She had to put her hands around his neck to steady herself from the force of his thrusts, and he could feel the erotic stab of her ni**les against his chest.

Their faces were only inches apart. In the candlelight he could see everything, every nuanced change of her pupils, every flush, every part of her lips as her breath hitched.

He couldn’t look away, mesmerized by the signs of pleasure on her face.

When she looked at him, he couldn’t breathe. His chest was too tight, too full, of … something.

This was it. This was what he’d unconsciously sought.

Color rose on her cheeks, and her gaze grew heavy as her lids fought to close.

Blood pounded inside him. He could feel the pressure gather at the base of his spine, coiling, building with each gasp from her sweetly parted lips.

His balls tightened, the pressure hot and powerful with the climax roaring inside him.

But he held it back, reached down between them, and found her sensitive spot with his finger as he held himself deep inside her. As deep as he could go.

His ass clenched.

Her body started to shudder.

“Look at me,” he demanded fiercely. She opened her eyes.

Their eyes locked and the world stopped. For one long heartbeat all he could see was her. Euphoria unlike anything he’d ever known washed over him. He felt suspended, as if he’d come out of himself and been lifted to the highest peak of happiness. Then he flew over the edge, and the world exploded in a burst of sensation and light.

They shattered together, their bodies shuddering in a flush of rolling waves.

He held her close, feeling the frantic race of her heart beating against his, burying his face in the warm silk of her hair, inhaling her soft, feminine scent.

He stayed like that long after it was over, not wanting to break the connection. Not wanting to leave. Not wanting to think.

Only when his breathing had calmed and his legs started to shake did he pull away. The warm places where they’d been joined chilled with the sudden blast of cold night air.

She made a gasp of protest and reached for him. Instinctively. With trust that humbled him. With a fierce swell of protectiveness, he gathered her in his arms, lifted her onto the bed and snuggled in beside her. Just for a moment, he told himself. Giving her the warmth of his body. But instead it was she who warmed him, giving him a sense of contentment he’d never thought possible for a man like him. The responsibilities of his clan and the bleakness of the battlefield seemed very far away.

Smoothing her hair from her face, he caressed her soft cheek with the back of his finger until she fell into a peaceful sleep.

This was different. She was different. He’d thought himself not capable of emotion, but she made him feel something. She touched a part of him that had been buried for a very long time, and the realization jarred him.

He felt like a man waging a losing war against an invisible enemy and not sure how to defend himself. But he knew one thing. He was getting too close. Closeness wasn’t for men like him. Emotion was a weakness he could not afford. Too many people were counting on him.

Get it under control. This had to stop.

Christina drifted off to a contended sleep, secure in her husband’s arms, certain that something significant had just occurred. A breakthrough, at last!

No man could look at a woman while making love like that and not feel something for her.

But it seemed as if she’d only just closed her eyes when she was pulled from her sated slumber by her husband’s shifting off the bed. Momentarily disoriented, she rolled over, opening her eyes to candlelight. Not morning.

Tor sat on the edge of the bed with his back to her. A wall of muscle and flesh, but as effective a barrier as stone. He’d already put on his leine and appeared to be tying the rawhide strings of his soft leather brogues. He was leaving. Again.

She told herself not to overreact, but disappointment curdled in her chest. “You’re leaving,” she said tonelessly.

He turned, giving her a sharp glance over his shoulder. “Go back to sleep, Christina.”

Christina. Not Tina. They were back to polite strangers. A flash of anger bubbled up from the hurt. Apparently, that was how he wanted it except for when they were in bed. But not wanting to appear the demanding bride, she buried the anger and swallowed her pride. “I hoped that you might stay.”

He went completely still for a moment, and then resumed what he was doing without a response. Her heart throbbed in the darkness. Was he that unfeeling, or merely obtuse? Did he not understand that she might wish for more than bedplay?

She wanted to bring a little softness and warmth into his life. It had been so long since he’d had someone to care for him. But he was making it impossible.

When he was done, he stood and turned around to look at her. Nothing in his ice-blue gaze hinted at the closeness they’d just shared. He was all business. Every inch the fearsome, daunting warlord and proud chief.

“I won’t be back for a few days.”