know he'd revealed anything damning. "Max, Max, you're having a bad dream," she whispered fiercely.
Once again, he was sitting up, his hand holding the imaginary pistol. The bedsheet lay tangled around his hips, more off than on his body. In the moonlight streaming through the window, she could see the contrast between his darkly tanned face and neck and the pale skin of his hard chest and flat belly. Gingerly, she perched on the edge of his bed and reached for his hand, lowering it and murmuring in his ear, trying to soothe him out of the nightmare. If only she could get him to lie back and go to sleep without awakening him!
Sky pressed her palm against his bare, hot chest. The feel of his hard male flesh, the swift hammering of his heartbeat, the crisp texture of his chest hair sent a jolt of sexual awareness racing through her body. Now it was she who cried out. But she quickly bit her lip and leaned over him, willing him to lie down.
Slowly, he dropped backward onto the pillows. Still, she could not seem to remove her hands from his chest. Instead, she laid her head over his heart and listened as the frantic thudding began to slow to a regular rhythm. It had been over a year since she'd felt the steady soothing beat of a man's heart close beside her.
I could lie this way forever. What was she thinking? Comparing her calm, loving Will with this cold, dangerous mercenary? Sky straightened up and started to slip from the bed, but suddenly his long, elegant fingers encircled her wrist tightly. She tumbled back onto his chest, her hair spread like spilled ink over his shoulders.
"Smelled your perfume," he murmured against her ear. The tip of his tongue darted inside the small shell, sending a shiver of delight coursing through her. "I must be dreaming, Sky Eyes." His warm breath caressed her face as he tangled his hands in her hair, moving her head so her lips met his.
He brushed his mouth ever so softly over hers. Then, with a guttural oath, he deepened the kiss, his tongue plundering. Sky had never imagined this searing bliss—that something could frighten her and at the same time awaken her to such passion. No, this was wrong, a violation of their agreement! It would mean heartbreak when he left her, as she knew he would.
He was a killer. He was the infamous Limey! She tried to hold that disquieting thought in her mind...but it would not stick. Sky pressed her palms against his chest, trying to break free, but he rose up and cupped her head in one hand, holding her fast while he continued the breath-stealing kiss.
"I've wanted to do this since the first day we met," he whispered harshly as his mouth moved from hers to her jaw, then down her throat to find a tiny pulse that had leaped to life at her collarbone.
"Let me go, Max," she said softly, too softly for him to hear above their rough breathing. Sky could not seem to catch her breath to speak louder, nor to push harder. In fact, her fingers seemed to dig into the muscles of his shoulders, holding on to him. His arm wrapped around her waist in an iron grip while his other hand left her hair and slid around, entering the sheer lawn of her night rail, sending buttons flying as his callused fingers grazed one nipple, then the other.
"Nooo," she murmured, then gasped at the sharp tingle of intense pleasure from the delicate caress.
"Yes, oh, my lord, yes," he crooned, cupping one pert breast and suckling the rose brown nipple until it puckered even more tightly. Then he turned his attention to the second breast, like a piece of ripe fruit, his for the taking. Sky was his for the taking. His wife. For the rest of his life...if he continued. Max could not have stopped if Queen Victoria herself stood at the foot of his bed and cleared her royal throat in disapproval.
No, the only thing that would stop him was Sky's protest. But rather than pushing him away, she now clung tightly to him, digging her nails into his body, thrusting those luscious breasts toward his
Once again, he was sitting up, his hand holding the imaginary pistol. The bedsheet lay tangled around his hips, more off than on his body. In the moonlight streaming through the window, she could see the contrast between his darkly tanned face and neck and the pale skin of his hard chest and flat belly. Gingerly, she perched on the edge of his bed and reached for his hand, lowering it and murmuring in his ear, trying to soothe him out of the nightmare. If only she could get him to lie back and go to sleep without awakening him!
Sky pressed her palm against his bare, hot chest. The feel of his hard male flesh, the swift hammering of his heartbeat, the crisp texture of his chest hair sent a jolt of sexual awareness racing through her body. Now it was she who cried out. But she quickly bit her lip and leaned over him, willing him to lie down.
Slowly, he dropped backward onto the pillows. Still, she could not seem to remove her hands from his chest. Instead, she laid her head over his heart and listened as the frantic thudding began to slow to a regular rhythm. It had been over a year since she'd felt the steady soothing beat of a man's heart close beside her.
I could lie this way forever. What was she thinking? Comparing her calm, loving Will with this cold, dangerous mercenary? Sky straightened up and started to slip from the bed, but suddenly his long, elegant fingers encircled her wrist tightly. She tumbled back onto his chest, her hair spread like spilled ink over his shoulders.
"Smelled your perfume," he murmured against her ear. The tip of his tongue darted inside the small shell, sending a shiver of delight coursing through her. "I must be dreaming, Sky Eyes." His warm breath caressed her face as he tangled his hands in her hair, moving her head so her lips met his.
He brushed his mouth ever so softly over hers. Then, with a guttural oath, he deepened the kiss, his tongue plundering. Sky had never imagined this searing bliss—that something could frighten her and at the same time awaken her to such passion. No, this was wrong, a violation of their agreement! It would mean heartbreak when he left her, as she knew he would.
He was a killer. He was the infamous Limey! She tried to hold that disquieting thought in her mind...but it would not stick. Sky pressed her palms against his chest, trying to break free, but he rose up and cupped her head in one hand, holding her fast while he continued the breath-stealing kiss.
"I've wanted to do this since the first day we met," he whispered harshly as his mouth moved from hers to her jaw, then down her throat to find a tiny pulse that had leaped to life at her collarbone.
"Let me go, Max," she said softly, too softly for him to hear above their rough breathing. Sky could not seem to catch her breath to speak louder, nor to push harder. In fact, her fingers seemed to dig into the muscles of his shoulders, holding on to him. His arm wrapped around her waist in an iron grip while his other hand left her hair and slid around, entering the sheer lawn of her night rail, sending buttons flying as his callused fingers grazed one nipple, then the other.
"Nooo," she murmured, then gasped at the sharp tingle of intense pleasure from the delicate caress.
"Yes, oh, my lord, yes," he crooned, cupping one pert breast and suckling the rose brown nipple until it puckered even more tightly. Then he turned his attention to the second breast, like a piece of ripe fruit, his for the taking. Sky was his for the taking. His wife. For the rest of his life...if he continued. Max could not have stopped if Queen Victoria herself stood at the foot of his bed and cleared her royal throat in disapproval.
No, the only thing that would stop him was Sky's protest. But rather than pushing him away, she now clung tightly to him, digging her nails into his body, thrusting those luscious breasts toward his
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