Chapter 19 #3
With a swiftness, his pants and braies fell to his ankles, soft as fresh fallen leaves. Bold and curious, Marigold reached
under his braies. He gasped as she found and stroked his shaft.
“Seems you’re sure as well.”
He braced himself against the bedpost. “Saints, Marigold.”
“Leave the saints out of it. They’re busy elsewhere.” She raised herself onto her toes to find his mouth, then wrapped her
free hand around his shoulder to steady herself as she worked him.
His busy hands mapped her body. The shape of her was fuller than it was in Thornwick, like she’d bloomed and was ripe for
the plucking.
And oh, how he wanted to pluck her.
He bunched the fabric at her hips in his fists, then pulled the linen over her head. The movement caused her to stop her caresses,
but that was for the best. Much more of her attention and he’d never last. Stepping out of his clothes, Bram walked her backward
until the bed bent her knees.
As she lay back, she reached for him. “Be with me, Jask.”
The name stuck like a burr. But to tell her was to ruin her, so he left it uncorrected. He was still her Bram, and she wanted
him. In that, he took comfort.
He braced his arms on either side of her head.
“You don’t know . . .” He kissed her, delighting in her sweetness. “How hard it’s been day after day, working side by side
with you.”
“Tell me,” she said with a smile.
He cupped her breast, ran his thumb over the stiff peak. “Every day I fantasize about bending you over the kitchen table and taking you before breakfast.”
He licked her tight bud, the way she’d enjoyed many a time back in Thornwick. Under his attention, she stiffened and shivered.
He switched to the other breast, lest it get jealous.
“And again, in the yard, I’ve wanted to lay you down on the trestle table more times than there are stars in the sky.” As
he teased her tender flesh, he laid a palm on her belly and skated it slowly toward the heat between her thighs.
There, he found her flesh swollen, eager, and moist.
Not that he’d use that word around her out loud.
“Where else?” she gasped as he circled the nub the way she’d taught him.
“The tree where we found the goldcaps,” he said. “Upright, like animals. The bark scouring your back as I pin you to it.”
“Yes,” she said. “Let’s do that. All of that.”
He nipped her ear. “I swear it.”
Her breath caught as he slipped a finger inside her, then two. Eagerly, she accepted him, her body softening like rain-soaked
earth. Fuck Thornwick. This was the only homecoming he wanted, and he could wait no longer.
“Wait,” she said.
His breath caught. This was where she came to her senses and told him to go. He’d respect her wishes, but blood and bones,
it would kill him.
“Let down your hair,” she said.
He found he could breathe again. With a quick yank he untied the thong. As he leaned forward, his black hair curtained over
her. “Better?” he asked.
“Yes.” She tunneled her hands into his strands and cradled his skull, pulling his face back to hers. “Now will you please love me?”
Always. He didn’t know how he would feel or how he would feel to her. But she was waiting for him, ready. This was no time
for second-guessing. This was time for overcoming.
Slowly, patiently, gloriously, he entered her.
Her delighted gasp was everything.
“Okay?” he whispered.
She smiled. “Perfect.”
He rolled his hips, mind blanking with her pressured heat. Criminal that he’d been without her for three years. That he’d
ever risked parting from her, thought anything was more important than being with the woman he’d always loved.
Would always love, from this day forward.
He bent to worship her mouth. As she moaned, she hooked her heels around his thighs. He broke the kiss, needing another look
at her. If this was the last time they were together, if she woke in the morning with regrets, he wanted this memory. Her
rolling body, swaying breasts, hooded eyes.
With her gaze on him.
He adjusted, bent his knees so they were under her thighs, opening her to him further. With one hand hooked on her hip, he
placed his palm over her heart. The beat beneath her ribs was fast and strong.
The sweet coiling tension gathered in his lower back. He refused to give in, not until she’d had her pleasure. He rolled the
tight bud between her legs, with slow, steady pressure, the way she liked.
Steady, steady, steady.
Her breath caught again, and her telltale low keen began.
Her little death was imminent.
The movement of her hips grew more insistent, and soon, the keen turned into a wail. She lost herself to pleasure, had achieved
her pinnacle. The greedy squeeze of her core undid him, and with a roar, he joined her in shared oblivion.
His thighs trembled as he rested his head against hers, determined not to press his weight onto her overmuch. She locked her legs around the small of his back, pulled him to her.
Powerless, he collapsed, then rolled to his side.
She twisted her face toward his on the pillow, pressed her palm to his cheek, then kissed him. “That was amazing.”
“Agreed, Princess.”
She traced a circle on his chest. “But we can do better.”