The Recruit (15 page)

He was moving faster now, with none of the smooth finesse he’d exhibited before. His
movements were harsh and stiff, almost clumsy. He was showing none of the detached
control she’d witnessed in the barn. Could she really be doing this to him?

He loosened his tunic, fumbled with the ties of his breeches and braies, and worked
the edge of her gown up over her hips.

Breaking the kiss, he leaned over her. A slump of dark hair hung forward across his
brow, and she fought the urge to tuck it back. His eyes were dark and burning with
the same emotion she’d seen in them when he’d taken himself to release with his hand:
lust.

For me
.

“I need to be inside you.”

His hand dipped between her legs, and she gasped. The gentle brush of his finger against
the sensitive, quivering flesh sent a thousand shivers racing up her spine.

“You’re so hot,” he groaned.

Whatever embarrassment she might have felt at his words was erased when his finger
slipped inside her. She jolted at the exquisite stroke.

“I knew you’d be like this.” He groaned again. “You’re made for this, little one.”

She didn’t know what he was talking about, but the finger stroking inside her felt
too good for her to care. Something strange was happening. The needs of her body had
taken over. The quivering intensified to a pulse, and then to an insistent throbbing.
She felt as if she were climbing, reaching for something she couldn’t see.

“That’s it,” he said encouragingly. “Let it come, love. Let it come.”

The soft endearment broke through the haze of her pleasure, but she pushed it away.
It doesn’t mean anything
.

But she hadn’t expected this bold, wicked warrior to be so … tender.

His finger was plunging in and out. Her hips rose on their own to meet the heel of
his hand. He pressed against her, murmuring words in her ear. “That’s it, love. Fly.”

Looking into his eyes, she froze, startled by the intensity of sensation that gripped
her. Their eyes held for one long heartbeat before they closed as the sensation exploded
inside her in a hot, pulsing spasm. She
was
flying. Soaring in a dreamy world of sensation. The pleasure was indescribable. So
much more than she’d imagined. But she couldn’t hold on to it. All too soon it was
fading away.

She opened her eyes, seeing him leaning over her. His gaze was hot with an emotion
she couldn’t read.

“You’re beautiful,” he said fiercely.

She smothered the flare of feminine pleasure. It didn’t mean anything. He probably
said that to all the women.

Except she couldn’t recall him saying it to the woman in the barn.

He moved over her, leveraging his chest over hers. She
fought the urge to glance down, filled with very unmaidenly curiosity.

She sucked in her breath, feeling the blunt tip of his manhood probing her entrance.

She steeled herself for the pain.

“Relax,” he said. “I told you I’d be gentle.”

She blushed. How could
that
be gentle? Long sword indeed. A
steel
long sword!

But after a moment she believed him. He rubbed the tip of himself against her until
she started to relax.

The quivering started again. Her breath began to quicken. She watched his face in
the semidarkness. The aggressive masculine jaw clenched and determined, the sensual
mouth tight, the sharp blue eyes piercing, the strain that tensed his muscles.

It was killing him to go slow. But he was doing it for her.

The gentleness confused her. It wasn’t what she expected from him. It wasn’t what
she wanted from him. “Now,” she told him.

If he was surprised by her demand, his body was too eager to argue with her. Slowly,
he started to push inside, using the dampness of her body to ease his way.

Her eyes widened as her body stretched to accommodate him.

She thought it would hurt. It
should
hurt. But instead she realized it felt … amazing. He filled her in a way she’d never
been filled before. Every incredible inch was a possession. A claiming. A fist of
heat pulsing inside her.

Oh God, yes. This was it! This was what she’d been waiting for. Mary couldn’t wait
to feel him move, to feel him thrusting inside her. All that lust. All that raw passion
she’d witnessed in the barn.

Except he wasn’t doing that at all. He was holding perfectly still—achingly still—staring
at her with a look on his face that made her heart tug. It was a strange mix of
surprise and confusion. And he seemed to be looking deep into her eyes for the answer.

Something sharp and poignant passed between them. Something beautiful and impossible.
Something that had no place in a fantasy of sin.

Instinctively she wanted to turn from it. But she couldn’t seem to break the connection.

Finally, when she thought she couldn’t bear the intensity another moment, he started
to move. The first thrust sent a shock wave of sensation exploding up her spine. She
gasped at the wonder of it. At the all-encompassing pleasure that swept over her with
each exquisite stroke.

He groaned, closing his eyes and tipping back his head as if the pleasure had overwhelmed
him as well. “God, you feel good,” he said with another groan, as his hips lifted
and sank again, the slow, circular motion reverberating through her.

She gripped him harder, fighting to hold on as wave after powerful wave of sensation
threatened to drag her under. She wanted to close her eyes and give over to the pleasure.

But he wouldn’t let her. His gaze held hers in its intimate embrace, not letting go.
The intensity of it stole her breath. She felt her heart squeezing.

No! This wasn’t what she wanted. This was all wrong. She didn’t want emotion. Her
chest wasn’t supposed to squeeze. It was too intimate. Too gentle. Too sweet.

He was supposed to be a fantasy, but this felt too real, tapping emotions she’d buried
long ago.

If only he would stop looking at her.

She had to do something. Focus on something else. She almost wished she was on her
hands and knees like the woman in the barn. She wasn’t that bold, but she had another
thought and blurted, “Will you take off your tunic?”

Kenneth felt as if he’d entered another world. A world that was entirely new. A world
where all his previous experience
counted for shite. He was sailing blind and without an anchor. It was unsettling and
exhilarating at the same time.

He liked swiving. Liked it a lot. Hell, even when it wasn’t great it was still damned
good. And when it was good there was nothing like it.

But this …

This was unlike anything he’d experienced. Something about it resonated. Hell,
everything
about it resonated. From the moment he’d entered her it had felt different. The pleasure
had been acute. The pure mind-numbing bliss of sinking into all that warm, soft flesh
and feeling her body grip him like a glove. A very wet, very tight, very hot glove.
He’d felt a powerful bolt of sensation right to the tip of his cock.

That he understood. What he didn’t understand was the rest. The fierce, primal wave
of possessiveness that made every instinct in his body scream “mine,” followed by
the strange feeling of rightness, and an equally fierce wave of protectiveness.

He’d promised her he’d be gentle, and he wanted to be. He wanted to make it good for
her.

He’d watched her face as he entered her, saw her cheeks flush, heard the sharp intake
of breath as he forged deeper and deeper, filling her.

And when it had happened, when they’d been joined completely …

A fierce wave of emotion had reached up and grabbed him by the throat. He’d never
felt lust like that before. Lust that settled in his chest and squeezed.

He should be going fast. The king was waiting for him. But it felt so damned good,
he didn’t want it to end. Buried deep inside her, the tight, wet fist of her body
gripping him, he thought he just might be content to stay here forever.

He took it slow. Dragging out every last inch of his thrusts,
sliding nearly all the way out before sinking into her again. But still it wasn’t
deep enough. Wasn’t close enough.

It was bloody strange. He couldn’t seem to stop looking at her. Hell, he couldn’t
ever recall holding a woman’s gaze for so long. But with her hair tumbling around
her face, her cheeks pink, her lips swollen, her eyes hazy with passion, he couldn’t
look away. The lass had come alive in his arms.

Christ
, he realized.
She’s beautiful
.

He seemed to stop breathing. Something hot and tight was lodged in his chest. It made
him want to hold her gaze. To cup her cheek in his hand and bring his lips to hers
in a soft kiss.

The oddity of his reaction made her request all the more jarring.

He stilled. “What?”

She dropped her gaze from his, biting her lip. A blush rose to her cheeks. “I-I …”
She stammered, peeking up at him from under her lashes. “I was just remembering, and
thought it would be nice …”

She couldn’t seem to finish.

“You thought it would be nice if I took off my tunic?” he said blandly.

She nodded, clearly mortified. “Aye.”

There was no reason he should be bothered by the request. Perhaps he should even be
pleased. Obviously, she’d admired what she’d seen in the barn and wanted to see it
again. A woman admiring his body was nothing new. Hell, he wanted her admiration.
But something about the request made him feel like a stallion at market, and given
his oddly tender feelings of a few moments ago, it stung.

Bloody hell, what was wrong with him? He sounded like a woman, overly sensitive and
overanalyzing every little nuance. Why should he care if she wanted to admire his
body? Hadn’t he told her the same thing? He wanted
to see her naked, and if it wasn’t for the difficulty in redressing her, he would
have torn that bloody gown right off her shoulders.

A tunic, however, was easy enough to put back on. And it would be nice to have her
hands on him.

With that thought in his mind, he grabbed the hem off his tunic that was already bunched
at his waist and jerked it over his head, tossing it to the side. “As you wish, my
lady,” he said with a cocky grin.

She gasped, her eyes wide with concern. “You’re hurt!” She reached out as if to touch
him, but then pulled back as if she were afraid to cause him pain.

He glanced down at the mottled skin, having forgotten about his injury. The pleasure
she was giving him was far better medicine than the vile-tasting brew his sister had
made him consume, or the long drink of whisky he’d had a few moments ago.

“It’s nothing.”

She started to argue, but he forced her mind back on what was happening with a little
push.

She startled, unthinkingly grabbing for him. Which was exactly what he’d intended.
The warm softness of her palms on his skin sent a fresh wave of heat pulsing to his
groin. Very nice.

He thrust again. Harder this time. And deeper.

She gripped him harder, her tiny fingers digging into the muscles flaring off the
back of his arms.

Aye, that was good. He held himself there, strangely content to just savor the moment
of connection. “Any more requests, my lady?” he said huskily, teasingly.

She lifted her gaze from his chest long enough to look into his eyes. He’d meant it
as a joke, but she looked oddly serious—worried even. “Faster, please. Just make it
faster.”

He frowned. Obviously, the lady wasn’t as content as he was to make it last. He felt
a flicker of temper.

His jaw clenched, tightening his mouth. Well, never let it be said he didn’t give
the ladies what they wanted.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he instructed. Giving her a long, hot look, he added,
“And hold on tight.”

She was in for the ride of her life.

He surged inside her, and she cried out at the possessive force of it. Her eyes shot
to his. “Like that, do you?” he taunted.

She nodded dazedly.

A surge of satisfaction shot through his veins. Holding her gaze, he surged again.
Over and over. Faster and faster. Giving her exactly what she wanted, the soft echoes
of her gasps egging him on.

He groaned as the familiar pressure started to build in his loins and gather at the
back of his spine.

Damn, it felt good.

He could feel her heels digging into his buttocks, her hands sliding from his arms
to roam wildly over his hot, slickening back. He was working hard and his body was
beginning to show it. His muscles were straining, his arms were sore from propping
himself up, and his breath was coming fast from the exertion of thrusting and pounding.

It was hot and hard, lust in its most raw and primal form. But it was also something
more. Something deeper. Something that stirred him in the darkest reaches of his soul
every time he looked into the fathomless blue of her eyes.

Beautiful
.

He could feel it coming. Sensation was building to a frantic beat. His body clenched
tighter in anticipation. He gritted his teeth against the urge to come, fighting for
control.

He didn’t want to do this alone.

He had no reason to hold back. He’d made her come. He’d done his duty. Kept his side
of the unspoken bargain in liaisons such as this. He’d give her pleasure and she’d
give him pleasure in return.

But nothing about this felt like a duty. Nothing about this felt like his usual liaisons.
Something about this felt important, and he knew it wasn’t going to feel right unless
they came together.

He didn’t know why—hell, he didn’t even want to think about it—he just knew it was
the way it was.

But God, he wanted to come. His arse clenched against the pull of sensation as her
body gripped him, milking, fighting to hang on to each hard stroke.

He wasn’t going to have long to wait. Her breath was coming faster now. Harder and
more insistent. She was undulating beneath him, arching her back and lifting her hips
to meet the frantic rhythm of his thrusts. Her eyes were half-lidded, her lips parted,
her head rolling back—