“One of us has to keep a level head.” His grip on her hips tightened. She stepped a little closer. Or did he pull her?
“Why? We might both die tomorrow.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”
“I’m asking you to forget everything and everyone and make love to me.”
His breath hitched but still he fought. “You aren’t just some woman to be tumbled, Daniella.”
Finally she leaned right into him, her soft belly against his hard hips, her heavy, aching breasts against his wide, strong chest. “I want this.” She snaked her arms around his neck, her fingers in his hair, and tugged gently until his shallow breath puffed hard against her lips. “Let us have this one night before we face tomorrow.”
His control weakened and when she nipped his lower lip he ceased to move altogether. She pressed her lips to his but he didn’t return the kiss.
“If we do this…” He pulled back but didn’t put space between their bodies. “If we do this and we live beyond tomorrow, I want you to promise me something.”
“Anything,” she said, pressing her lips to his again.
His fingers drifted from her hips to her backside and before she could even moan with the intense pleasure such a touch evoked, he lifted her against him, his erection cradled between her thighs. He walked her back until her shoulders were flush to the wall and then ground his hardness into her. Sweat beads formed on his forehead as he placed it against hers. “I’ll give you this.” He finally kissed her, hard, fast, frenzied. “If you agree to become my wife.”
Through the haze of passion, of anticipation and longing, Daniella heard the words but didn’t believe them. “What?”
“If we are still alive tomorrow at nightfall, you will marry me.”
“You can’t trick me into saying I do—”
He cut her off with his mouth and kissed her again and a pulsing started deep within her body.
“No tricks,” he said, placing soft, feathery kisses down her jaw, his whiskers scraping so erotically she thought she might combust on the spot. “You’ll take my name and my protection and everyone will know you are mine.”
Which way was up? He didn’t stop kissing her, his hands kneading, his hips rolling. He worked her up and up and she craved release. She wanted him inside of her and be damned the consequences. Everything be damned.
“Yes,” she groaned as he hitched her up higher and closed his mouth over her nipple through her shirt. Through two fine layers of lawn and cotton, his wet heat played havoc with her senses.
“Your word,” he said, his voice muffled.
“You have—” She gasped when he used his teeth as well as his tongue. “You have my word. Tomorrow, if we still live…”
“We will get through this, Daniella.” He slid her body back down the wall, gentleness and calm restoring the frenzy. “I’ll make sure of it.”
*
His sense of honour howled to the wind but his conscience pricked. He smothered the edges of its knifepoint and kissed her again. His hands were everywhere all at once but he wanted her naked. There were too many barriers. He wanted to rip them all down one by one until it was just the two of them, skin to skin, vulnerable and open and raw. He would have her no other way.
He started with the ties of her shirt and loosened the strings.
“Wait,” she said, her fingers squeezing until he had to stop.
“It’s too late, Daniella.”
She rolled her hips against his. “I have one condition.”
Picking her up in his arms, he carried her to the bed and placed her on it, following her down until he hovered above her. “No conditions.” He placed his lips to hers, kissed her, drank of her. “No more talking.” Slowly, gently, without taking his eyes from hers, he slid his hand under the hem of her shirt, up her ribs, to cup her breast, his thumb firmly flicking her nipple until her back arched off the bed. “No more excuses.”
Lowering himself down her body, he lifted her shirt and her chemise to her armpits and then over her head, baring her chest to his hungry gaze. He licked his lips. Then he licked her. First one side, and then the other, cupping her weight and kneading, learning the feel of her so if they did die he would go to hell with this memory seared into his very being. When he closed his mouth over a dusky peak, she threaded her hands into his hair and pulled him back up to her face, taking his mouth in a kiss so fierce it was a wonder he didn’t explode right then and there.
Reaching down, he felt for the hem of her gown…but was frustrated by her tight breeches. “This is why ladies wear skirts,” he said with a curse.
She laughed. “I didn’t know that.”
Rolling off her, he opened the fastening at her waist in hurried motions, his fingers tangling in the laces, trying not to once again rip the only clothing she had.
She tried to help, taking the laces and undoing them, but he was impatient now. He slid a hand beneath the fabric, his fingers finding soft hair and slick heat. She cried out when he found the nub between her wet folds. “Take your pants off, Daniella.”
“I’m trying. You’re distracting me.”
He withdrew a fraction and stilled, half rolling onto his back. “I can stop?”
She clawed the breeches off, using her feet when the fabric caught on her ankles. He would have laughed but at the sight of her, all woman, all wanton, he bit his tongue and held back. His erection strained and his blood sang.
“As you were,” she said, taking his hand and leading it back to her mound.
This time a chuckle escaped and he rolled back towards her as if pulled by an invisible string. “Perhaps I should be grateful
