The Bride (The Wedding Series) - By Christine Dorsey Page 0,14

Eleanor Fiske was stronger than she looked. And a hell of a lot better swimmer than he would have ever suspected. Though her skirts were heavy and constantly dragging her down, she stayed with him, only needing his aid when they neared the tree-lined shore.

With one arm around her waist John helped her stagger onto the rocky beach. “Over there,” he yelled above the roar of the wind and surf.

At first Eleanor didn’t know what he was saying, or what he meant as he pulled on her arm. She was tired. More tired than she’d ever been in her life and she’d just escaped a sea that seemed eager to swallow up her existence. Her breath was coming in gasps. She needed to rest. To drop to the ground and give in to exhaustion.

But he wouldn’t let her be, and finally she twisted toward him, ready to strike out if she must and see what he was coaxing her toward.

A shack of some description. Fishing or something. Eleanor was in no condition to care. But she yanked on her skirts and struggled across the wind and rain swept beach. She’d lost her shoes to the ocean and catching her toe on an exposed root, tripped.

But before she could fall, John scooped her into his arms. She nestled her face into his neck and he rushed on toward the shelter.

The door was open, hanging from its hinges, and pounding back and forth with each gust. As soon as John stumbled inside he dropped to his knees. “Are you all right?” His voice sounded raspy as he bent over where he’d settled her on the rough-hewn wood floor.

Eleanor nodded. Then after taking a deep breath she opened her eyes. “Are you?” He was very close to her and despite the dim light she could see the droplets of water on his long dark lashes. She reached up to touch his cheek, her breath catching on a sob when he covered her hand with his own. “I thought I was going to die.”

His eyes closed and he turned his mouth into her palm. The warmth of his breath seemed to force the chill from her bones.

“Then I saw you.” Her other hand reached out to brush aside the wet hair plastered to his face. “And I was so frightened.” She paused as his lashes lifted and his eyes met hers. “For you,” she finished, curving her fingers around his neck.

Eleanor didn’t know if she urged him down or if he came of his own volition, but she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and opened her mouth to him when his lips met hers. He tasted of salt and fear and the victory they’d both won over the storm and the sea. And she savored the flavor.

Outside, the fierce squall raged, sending the waves crashing against the shore. And inside, soaked and battered, a storm of another kind exploded between Eleanor and John.

Six

There had been other women, other needs burning brightly through the years. But none so strong, so urgent as the one consuming him now. John drank of her kisses like a man possessed. His breathing rasped, nearly as loud as when he first staggered from the water.

The hem of her sodden gown lifted beneath his eager hands and he skimmed the moist warmth of her flesh. Her legs were long and slender. His fingers inched aggressively up the smooth skin, pressing higher with each ragged moan she uttered.

John quickly discarded her drawers, pulling them down, and tossing them aside. She gasped when he tangled his fingers in the curls at the apex of her thighs, but he swallowed the sound into his own mouth, and continued his quest.

Eleanor bucked, pushing herself more firmly into his palm when his finger entered her. Somewhere in the back of her mind rang a warning that she should stop him. He was touching her, caressing her, in places she’d been warned never to even think about. But it felt so wonderful. The heat, the passion engulfed her completely. And she banished any thoughts of bringing this magic to an end.

Clutching his broad shoulders, digging her fingers into the wet fabric of his coat, Eleanor answered him kiss for kiss. His tongue demanded, and she answered the call, spearing her own into his mouth. Sending her heart on a mad thundering ride.

And then something sent Eleanor’s head spinning. She cried out, unaware of what was happening, knowing only that she soared above the ramshackle cabin. Wave