Chapter 10
Ten
As Owen carried Finn to bed, he recalled the last time he’d done so.
He was probably foolish to allow her to seduce him again…
but if so, at least he’d be a happy fool.
Her mouth was soft beneath his, demanding yet sweetly eager.
As her sweet, tart flavor saturated his senses, he realized he’d been craving it since their last kiss.
Craving her—even if she was a vice he should stay away from.
Yet something new and genuine was unfolding between them.
While he did not trust her, he did at least understand her better.
Her remorse had been real. He’d observed the flinches she’d tried to hide, the pain that had seeped through her formidable wall of control.
She clearly didn’t like talking about the past—something they had in common—but she’d shown him her scars.
They made him burn to slay her demons.
Which was rich, considering he couldn’t even manage his own.
They were like two strange peas in a pod.
Perhaps that explained their uncanny attraction.
To him, her resilience was seductive. Despite her delicate beauty, she was a hardy bloom.
A woman strong enough to withstand the worst catastrophe—including him.
At the same time, she had thorns herself, and he had to remain vigilant.
Indulging in lust was one thing. Allowing her to bloody him, quite another.
Her thorns were hidden now. As he set her on her feet, she was soft as petals, her curves molding perfectly to him. When they weren’t busy slicing at each other with their jagged edges, they fit as if by design, and the notion made him heady with hunger.
Cupping her jaw with both hands, he feasted on her. She parted her lips, offering him her ambrosia. Her tongue twined with his. He thrust deeper into her mouth, heat sizzling through his veins as he recalled another grotto of hers he’d licked—and God willing, would get to sample again.
He murmured, “You are delectable, Finn.”
“So are you.” She blurted it, her topaz eyes beautifully dazed.
Turning her around, he pulled her against him. Her spine was supple, her dark skirts brushing against his erection. He couldn’t remember the last time a kiss made him this hard—no, actually, he could: their last kiss in the churchyard. Afterward, he’d gone home and brought himself off. Twice.
“I cannot get enough of you,” he said huskily.
He nibbled on her earlobe, teasing the plump ledge while he cupped her breasts. She moaned as he squeezed the firm mounds, which filled his palms perfectly. Her delightful squirming made his trousers uncomfortably tight.
He coasted his lips along her neck, savoring her shiver. “You have such lovely breasts.”
“Would you like to see more of them?”
The reply was so direct and playfully carnal—so Finn—that he grinned.
“I would like to see more of you.”
“I am all yours…for the evening.”
Her sultry teasing made him fumble with the fasteners at the back of her dress.
While he wasn’t a stranger to removing a female’s clothing, undressing Finn felt different.
Everything with her did. She had a way of turning his life topsy-turvy, and the oddest thing was that he didn’t mind.
He might even like the way she kept him on his toes.
He managed to unhook the black bombazine, and she stepped out of the somber shell.
Her corset and petticoats were plain and discreetly mended, yet her beauty shone through like a beacon.
She radiated vitality: she was slender, yet honed, the creamy curve of her shoulders contrasting with the lean strength of her arms. The tin heart dangling from the loop of black ribbon around her neck was battered and rusted, yet it was a symbol of her resilience.
When she reached up to unpin her hair, he saw the constellation of scars on her arm, and wrath seared his chest.
Yet he knew that she wanted his rage the way he wanted her pity.
Those emotions helped nothing. The only thing that mattered was the present—how stunning she was with her chestnut hair free and tumbling to her waist. The silky waves teased his knuckles as he untied her petticoats and sent the layers whispering to the ground.
When he unknotted the worn strings of her corset, she gave a lovely shiver.
“I feel like I am unwrapping a present,” he said.
She gave him a coy look over her shoulder. “You are certainly taking your time with it. Most fellows would just tear the paper off.”
The flash of white-hot jealousy took him aback.
He wasn’t usually possessive, but he didn’t want to think about other men touching her.
He turned her to face him, drew her chemise over her head…
and his breath stuttered at the erotic picture she made.
Her breasts were round and firm, the rosy buds poking through her loose tresses.
She still wore drawers, but they revealed more than they hid.
They clung to her slender hips, the open front giving peekaboo glimpses of her dark nest. They ended in a frill below her knees, showcasing the elegant curves of her calves and her dainty, stockinged feet.
Limned by firelight, her beauty was luminous and volatile.
“By Jove,” he said in a low voice. “You could make a man lose his head.”
“Yours appears quite intact.” She dipped her gaze to the bulging placket of his trousers. “One might even call it prominent.”
He choked out a laugh. “Minx.”
He yanked her into him, enjoying her breathy gasp as her naked curves met his clothed length.
He kissed her hungrily as his hands roamed over her backside.
He felt the silky flutter of her shoulder blades, strength of her backbone, and pliant dip of her waist. Dispensing with her drawers, he gripped her sleek bottom and ground her against his rampant erection.
She moaned, and he felt her dew soaking through his trousers.
“You are ready for me,” he rasped.
“Then perhaps you should get on with it. It is not polite to keep a lady waiting.”
She rubbed herself against him like a cat, her eyes bright with pleasure.
With a growl, he tumbled her backward onto the bed.
He meant to take his time savoring her, but his appetite was ravenous—and she was as impatient as he was.
She wove her fingers into his hair as he licked a path between her breasts, nuzzling the tender valley to inhale her scent.
He sampled the curve of her tit, spiraling toward the quivering tip, where he paused.
“Don’t stop, Owen. Please.”
He obliged her, sucking her pretty nipple into his mouth.
She was so responsive—so wonderfully wanton.
While she was a woman of secrets, when it came to carnal matters she was refreshingly candid.
Her moans and breathless praise told him exactly what she liked.
He craved intensity, needed the escape it offered.
With Finn, he didn’t have to worry whether it was too much for her—because she would tell him.
“More,” Finn panted. “Do it harder.”
And because she liked intensity too.
He suckled her harder, lashing the rosy tip with his tongue.
When she began squirming, he gave her the edge of his teeth.
She gasped, shuddering. He went back and forth until her nipples were red and glistening.
When he pinched one swollen bud between finger and thumb while sucking hard on the other, she let out a wail that he felt in his balls.
He tended to her through her shivers, then took in the telltale flush on her cheeks and her soft, sated eyes.
“That was bloody magnificent,” he said. “I didn’t know a woman could peak that way.”
“Neither did I.”
Her blurted confession, accompanied by a wide-eyed look, made him bark out a laugh. It also caused his chest—and his cock—to swell with pride. Truth be told, his prick felt hard enough to pound nails.
And that was before she wound her arms around his neck, whispering in his ear, “I wonder what we will discover next?”
Finn had had a few brushes with death. Being a Hawk, this was inevitable.
Yet she’d never experienced what people termed “the little death” with a partner until Owen.
If their first time together had given her a lesson in passion, now she was getting a full education.
As ecstasy surged through her once more, she feared she might burst from the intensity of this latest wave.
She gripped his hair as he continued devouring her pussy through the spasms.
“You are delectable,” he growled.
She was stunned that he found her so. During her involvement with Jimmy, he’d wanted her to perform this act on him but had never returned the favor.
Owen not only seemed to enjoy kissing her there—and everywhere else—but he was also exceedingly skilled at it.
Her tendency was to close her eyes during coupling, but his magnetic grey eyes held hers as he explored her with his mouth.
It made the act hotter and more intimate; she was sure she was blushing like a virgin.
Yet she couldn’t look away from him—her fierce and tender soldier whose closet was as full of skeletons as her own.
He is not yours, Finn. Remember that. You can have this night—nothing more.
Her inner voice was drowned out by the roar in her ears as he eased a finger inside her. She began to tense…but told herself to relax. She trusted that he would honor his promise to her.
“You are so tight.” His voice was ragged. “Like a vise of silk.”
Crikey, he has the body of a warrior and the soul of a poet.
She arched her hips, seeking more of his touch. “That feels so fine. Give me more—please.”