“I told you we wouldn’t do this.”
“And I told you we would.” She came to a stop a foot from him and raised her arms out from her body as if to give him a better look.
He didn’t need a better look. He could see everything quite clearly. The way her nipples tightened in the cold, offering a temptation for his tongue. The way her hips flared out at the perfect angle for his hands to grip. And the dark curls covering her sex. He could feel the way he’d slide inside her, the way her sex would resist with delicious tightness before giving way to the full width of him.
His cock, already half hard from the interrupted dream, pulsed to brilliant life at the thought.
“Go back to your room,” he ordered in desperation.
Cynthia arched an eyebrow and took the one last step that brought her flush with his bed.
Lancaster scrambled back, but despite his best intentions, he couldn’t stop himself from watching when she raised one knee onto the mattress. “Oh, Lord,” he groaned at the brief glimpse of pink sex. “Cyn…”
Though he had enough restraint left to resist reaching for her, Lancaster couldn’t make himself back farther away. He could only freeze like a cornered hare.
“Do what you did this morning,” she said, her voice low and soft, like the finest kid leather on his skin.
He shook his head. “We must wait.” But his eyes wandered from her face to her breasts as she knelt before him like a supplicant.
“Take me, Nick.”
On her knees. Begging.
A tremor took over his muscles. And then she reached for him as if she meant to spread her fingers through his hair. He grabbed her wrists to stop her, and his fight was finished.
His fingers curled tight around her bones. He felt her tendons press against his grip as she strained against him. His heart pounded harder, and the world and his worries disappeared.
He wanted this. He wanted it now, with Cynthia, good intentions be damned. They’d find that blasted treasure, and he’d marry her and all would be well, because he would make it so.
When he pushed her to her back, Cynthia gasped. He slid between her legs, and pressed his naked weight into her, watching her eyes widen.
“Oh,” she breathed. A nice enough sound, but he suddenly needed her moaning, sobbing, screaming.
“Open your legs,” he growled.
Cynthia blinked up at him. Her lips parted as she breathed harder, and her knees inched higher on his thighs.
“More. Wrap them around my hips.”
She didn’t obey him at first. He waited to see if she would trust him, or if she’d push him off and demand to know what was wrong with him. She should push away. He knew that. But when her knees rose up to his hips and her ankles slid over his thighs, Lancaster’s blood surged in triumph.
Now his cock was snug against the cradle of her body, held by the heat of her. He rocked his hips and her eyelashes fluttered. So did his heart.
Ah, God, she felt sweet and warm and soft against him. He kept rocking his hips in a slow rhythm, rubbing against her until he felt her wetness begin to ease his way. He slid easier, faster against her.
“Nick,” she groaned as her hips tilted up, pressing her softness into his hard shaft. “Oh, God, yes. Oh, yes.”
“Does that feel good, love? Is that what you wanted?”
“Yes.” Her hands curled into fists under his hold. “Keep doing that. It’s…It feels so…”
A bead of sweat trickled down his neck. “Tell me.”
She shook her head. “It’s so good. Please don’t stop. Please.”
He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t stop. He’d keep her like this forever.
Her thighs began to tremble around him. She threw her head back. Though Lancaster was desperate to shift his hips and slide deep inside her body, he clenched his teeth and maintained the exact rhythm, the exact pressure that was making her jaw quiver.