to hurt ye,” he gritted through his teeth.
Suddenly, she swept her leg over him, and he found himself flopped onto his back with her straddled atop him. “You won’t hurt me,” she assured him. Then she held him by the root, so his erection jutted straight up, aimed at her center, and penetrated herself with him.
Her eyes went wide, and her mouth opened in a startled gasp.
They both froze, him in a mix of horror and at the exquisite grip of her tight sheath. Her, most likely in surprise at the pain.
She shifted atop him. The slight wriggle of her hips against his made a fresh wave of bliss wash over him.
She drew a shaky breath. “I don’t know what to do.”
He put his hands to her hips and rocked her forward as he flexed his pelvis up. Her brows furrowed. He repeated this move several more times, slow and careful until the intense concentration on her face changed with the flutter of her lashes. Her brow smoothed, and her lips parted.
She followed the rhythm without having his hands guide her, rolling against his body. Her discomfort had impeded his enjoyment. Now, however, knowing she took pleasure in their union, he was free to revel in the mating of their bodies.
“Put yer hands on my chest,” he instructed.
She did as he instructed and leaned forward, shifting her hips over him. He thrust into her, matching his pace with hers as her sex gripped him and squeezed with each meeting. Her breasts bounced in time with their rhythm, her small pink nipples hard and tempting him to suck them into his mouth. He cupped his hands around her bosom, thumbing the little buds as the weight of her bosom jiggled in his palms.
Isolde moved faster, and he matched her pace, both of them in a desperate frenzy of pushing, squeezing, thrusting, gripping, everything growing hotter and tighter until she threw her head back with a screaming cry. Her fingers clenched at his chest, and her sheath spasmed around his shaft, milking him toward his own release.
His climax took him hard, crashing over him and drowning him beneath a sea of euphoria that drew on for an eternity. Isolde bent forward and collapsed on his chest while the final waves of his crises lapped over him, and he became aware of their heartbeats pounding frantically against one another. He curled his arms around her and held her while their bodies cooled.
“I dinna want to hurt ye,” he whispered.
“You didn’t,” she replied.
It was at that moment he realized her switching their positions wasn’t due to impatience on her part. She didn’t want him to have the responsibility of having caused her pain.
She pushed up and regarded him through a curtain of tousled auburn hair. Her eyes were still heavy-lidded with pleasure, her smile languid, her cheeks flushed. She pressed a kiss to his lips, bringing with her the sensual scent of roses and intimacy.
Was he in love?
Absolutely.
It was why he would do what was necessary the following day. Even if he knew it would be unforgivable.
14
Isolde had never experienced such a solid night of sleep as she had snuggled in the warm comfort of Cormac’s embrace. Wakefulness tugged at her, beckoning her slowly into awareness. A chill graced her skin, and she nudged backward toward the heat of Cormac’s body. And met nothing.
She rolled over and found the bed empty.
Her heart sank with disappointment. He’d been worried that someone might view him coming to her rooms, and he was no doubt also concerned about who might see him leave. Not that it mattered as they would be wed that eve. After…
Isolde flinched with the realization of exactly what day it was and what awaited them. Edmund the Braw. A man undefeated in combat.
Fear quivered in her chest, a fear she would not allow herself to fall victim to. She had no choice but to fight Edmund, and she would never allow Cormac to stand in her place. Resolute and determined to prepare, she rose from the bed, drew on her robe to hide her nakedness and opened the door. Matilda sat beside a fire with a bit of mending in her hand.
The shutters were open, and the full morning sun shone in. Isolde was hit with a jolt of alarm. How could it be so late in the morning already? She was due in the practice field.
“Why did you not wake me, Matilda?” Isolde asked. “We must hurry, or I will be late.”
Matilda