Chapter 9 #2
His hand fisted in the rough homespun cloth of her kirtle in an effort to keep his wits about him.
He wanted nothing more than to flex his hips against hers so their pelvises could meet in a grinding intensity that would further stoke the flames of their lust. Except he didn’t.
With every thread of willpower, he managed to maintain his control.
Greer arched against him, moaning softly into his mouth. Each whimpered sound crumbled his resolve a little more. If she continued thus, he might not be able to hold back any longer.
He caught her hips, intending to stop her, but instead, his hands followed the undulation of her hips, guiding her directly to the throbbing pulse of his arousal. She sucked in a breath at the contact and kissed him more deeply, her excitement evident in every lick, every little affectionate nip.
She grabbed his hand and put it over her breast before he realized what she was doing. “Touch me.” Her breath was hot and sweet where she panted against his ear.
He should have withdrawn his touch, but the fullness of her breast filling his palm made doing the right thing impossible. She pushed herself against him, encouraging him with the way she ground their bodies together and with every breathless gasp of pleasure.
Her nipple pebbled beneath his touch, coaxing the teasing of his fingers. God, how he wanted it to be his tongue instead.
With a growl of resignation, he gently tugged at the neckline of her kirtle, freeing her breast for his hand to touch skin to skin and his mouth to close over. Her nipple was rose pink against her alabaster skin, its center drawn tight with anticipation.
He cupped the silken weight of her in his palm as he bent over and flicked his tongue over the nub.
Greer cried out, and her fingers raked up into his hair, keeping his head where he was at her bosom. As he loved her one breast with his mouth, he fondled the other before bestowing upon it the same attention.
His cock was hard as stone, shoving against his trews, desperate for the release he denied himself so often.
His was a life of control. Not of whims.
Her hand traveled down his abdomen and curled around the column of his arousal. The shock of it made his body lock up as his cock lurched in appreciation, straining toward the heat of her palm as she began to caress up and down over his hard length.
“Greer,” he ground out. He meant to tell her to stop, but the words would not emerge.
“Touch me the way I’m touching ye,” she whispered hoarsely.
He hesitated, aware that if he did as she asked, there might be no way to stop for either of them.
“Please,” she whimpered.
His blood was too inflamed, his mind too far away from his grasp to deny her. He ran his hand up her leg, dragging her skirt with it until the whisper of petal-soft flesh teased at his fingertips. She trembled under his touch and mouthed the word “please” once more.
It was a request that was impossible to refuse. He continued up her leg to the sweet juncture between her thighs, where he gently swept a caress against her sex. She cried out in pleasure as his fingers came away damp with her arousal.
A low, rumbling groan rose in his chest, the sound desperate.
He was a man who prided himself on his control, of his body and his mind. Now both were being pushed to their limits, and he found his hold over them wavering.
Greer’s hand on his arousal became more insistent as she rubbed the outline of his thick cock with her cupped palm, her breath coming in frantic gasps as his fingers glided over her ready sex.
It was all Drake could do to keep himself from snatching her into his arms, tossing her on the bed and sinking into the tight, wet heat of her.
His heart thudded in wild beats that threatened to pound out of his chest. He pulled her more snugly against him, his fingers moving over her sex, finding her bud and caressing her with a quick, circular motion.
Her knees buckled, but he held onto her firmly as he loved her with his hand.
He reveled in every gasp, every moan as he watched the bliss play out over her face.
It didn’t take long for her brows to flinch together and her cries to pitch with her climax as her sheath spasmed against him. He kissed her to quiet the sounds of her pleasure and did not remove his hand from her until her eyes opened.
She grasped the ties of his trews and tugged at them, but he stepped away with a shake of his head. “Drake,” she gasped.
He clenched his teeth to regain his resolve. It would be so easy to allow her to free his arousal, to draw him into the tightness of her body, primed for coupling, to take her fully.
But no. He was not that man.
“Nay,” he said, his determination firmly in place. “I’m no’ like those other men, Greer.”
“That’s why I want ye. Because ye look at me with respect, because rather than hurt me, ye want to protect me.” She reached for him, her slender, chapped hand palm up in an invitation that was more tempting than he cared to admit.
“I canna,” he said gruffly and left her room. Before his will could splinter.
In the hall, light streamed up from the staircase leading to the tavern below. He remained outside her door for a moment, breathing in a deep, calming breath. Even then, his hands fisted on either side of him.
He took swift, quiet strides back to his own bedchamber, where he basked in the dark silence that greeted him. His emotions had controlled him once before in his life.
Anice.
Golden hair. Lovely blue eyes. A keen intelligence that people failed to notice when blinded by her beauty
His heart had beat its rhythm to the sound of her name for his time as Captain of the Guard at Werrick Castle on the English side of the border. Even after he had stood as the best swordsman for her marriage to another man. Even after he watched her slowly fall in love with her husband.
He had learned to wrest the power of his sentiments into submission then. If he had not, the ache of losing her might have been too great.
There had not been another woman who plucked at his resolve after Anice. At least, not until Greer.
Her feisty spirit, her sharp mind, the woman he knew her to be when her facade fell away, as exemplified by the way she gave to a child when she had nothing. It was in these ways that she chipped away at his fortitude.
And though he was tempted to embrace the whisper of those emotions, so too was he afraid.
He could not allow himself to suffer a broken heart again. Not when it could be so easily avoided.