To Taste Temptation (Legend of the Four Soldiers #1)(68)

Although maybe not to her.

“Get off me,” she mumbled.

He didn’t think he’d ever heard the so-proper Lady Emeline mumble before and he was delighted. “Am I crushing you?”

“No.” She was quiet for a bit, and he thought she might’ve fallen asleep. But then she spoke again. “But you should get off me, anyway.”

“Why?” He’d placed his head on the pillow beside hers and was enjoying lying face-to-face and watching her expression.

She wrinkled her nose without opening her eyes. “Because it’s the polite thing to do.”

“Ah. But I’m very comfortable where I am, so I’m not that interested in politeness at the moment.”

Her eyes snapped open, and she scowled at him in an utterly adorable way. Not that he would ever tell her, but he found her anger arousing.

“Isn’t my comfort of any importance?” she demanded in a haughty, upper-crust accent.

“No,” he told her kindly. “None at all.”

“Humph,” was her not-very-eloquent retort, and he smiled at that as well. He loved having reduced her to monosyllables.

She’d closed her eyes again, and now she said sleepily, “You’re very sure of yourself.”

“That’s because”—he leaned close enough to kiss her cheek and then whisper in her ear—”my cock is in your cunny.”

“Self-satisfied,” she mumbled.

“Yes, and so are you.”

She grunted. “Go to sleep, you vain man.”

He smiled to himself since she could no longer see and pulled the coverlet over them both. And then, still interlocked with her, he followed her orders and let himself sleep.

EMELINE CAME FULLY awake all at once early the next morning. She immediately knew that she had stayed the night in Samuel’s room. He still lay beside her. In fact—she tried an experimental wiggle—he still lay in her. Which made a discreet exit rather awkward.

She watched him. He lay prone, his face turned toward her. His hips covered hers, but most of his upper body was off her chest, except for an arm, thrown possessively over her breasts. The lines beside his mouth had smoothed, and he looked young, his brown hair tousled like a boy’s. Had he looked this way before the war?

He opened his eyes and focused on her, and his gaze darkened with awareness. He was silent, his gaze traveling over her face. It was early morning, she’d just woken up, and she must look terribly disheveled, but she couldn’t turn away. She let him inspect her, his gaze more intimate than when he had looked at her nude body the night before. What did he see when he looked at her? She couldn’t fathom, and at any other time she’d be cross with her own uncertainty, her own exposure. But right now, with the morning light softly revealing the room, she didn’t let her own vulnerability spoil the moment.

He raised his palm to cradle the back of her head and brought his face nearer slowly so he could examine her as he approached. He only closed his eyes at the last minute. And then he was kissing her. His mouth was softer in the morning, more relaxed and lazy. He opened it over hers but made no attempt to engage her tongue. Instead he kissed her lushly, his lips moving slowly, erotically, on hers. She could feel his morning stubble, scraping her face in contrast to the softness of his lips. He seemed in no hurry, even though she could feel him, large and incredibly hard, within her.

He levered himself over her on his elbows, never breaking the kiss, his palms cradling her face, and he surrounded her, male and hard, protective and possessive. She’d never felt so cherished. Never felt so wanted. He’d widened her legs and settled his hips more fully on hers. She could feel the tickle of his chest hairs on her nipples. It was all so intimate. She wasn’t sure she could bear this, this too-close lovemaking. It exposed her, left her open to reveal things she’d rather keep hidden. But she was caught in the moment, seduced by her own yearning and by the man above her.

His hand traveled from her face to her throat, caressing over her shoulder and side. He paused at her hip, seemingly distracted by their kiss; he’d licked his way into her mouth and she was sucking him. Then his hand continued, reaching one knee and grasping it. He pulled that knee up and over his hip and left it draped there as he pressed his pelvis down into hers.

She gasped into his mouth. She was open and vulnerable in this position, and when he pressed, she could feel all of him against her mons. She wasn’t sure she liked it, this leisurely, thorough lovemaking. He was laying bare her soul, whether that was his intention or not. She didn’t even think he was aware of what he did to her. But when she would’ve pushed him away, she was beguiled all over again by the sure thrust of his hips. He broke their kiss, raising his head to watch her as he ground slowly down on her exposed flesh. She gasped at the sensation and then frowned at him. How rude to stare at her in this moment! Didn’t he know that this simply wasn’t done? That what they did was only a fleeting pleasure of the flesh, nothing more.

Nothing more...

When he shifted and pressed again, his body hard and insistent within hers, it didn’t feel like only a physical act. It was more. Much more. She panicked, the weight of him, the emotions suddenly overwhelming. She tried to turn her head, raising her arms to push him off, but he caught her quickly, effortlessly, and trapped her wrists on the pillow on either side of her head.