Tarnished Knight - By Bec McMaster Page 0,44

wall. Hot water, just for her.

“’onoria ‘elped me pick all the cushions and fripperies,” Rip admitted.

“How the devil did you manage all of this without me knowing?” She took a step forward, trailing her fingers over the soft quilt. It was beautiful. Perfect. Candlelight blurred as happy tears flooded her eyes.

“Remember those times Lena took you shoppin’ the last few weeks?” At her incredulous look, he laughed. “Blade and Will ‘elped me with the ‘eavy stuff. Tin Man too. Only when you weren’t ‘ere though.”

The shopping trips. Traipsing through milliner’s as Lena prattled on, searching for the precise shade of cotton that she wanted for a dress. Cotton that never seemed quite the right colour.

“I can’t believe you were all plotting against me,” she said, spinning around again. The silk scarf dangled from her fingers. Esme glanced down, a soft smile dawning on her lips. “How could I ever thank you?”

Again his cheeks coloured. “You don’t ‘ave to thank me,” he said gruffly. “I like makin’ you smile.”

Esme slid onto the edge of the bed, her velvet skirts whispering over the quilt. She patted the bed beside her. “Perhaps a kiss, to start with?”

Rip knelt on the bed, his hands clasping hers as he tumbled her onto her back. Esme stared up at him, candlelight warming his skin. “I won’t say no,” he teased and leaned down to brush his lips against hers.

Aching sweet and just as tender. But it wasn’t tender she wanted, not now. Her nails dug into the back of his hands as her fingers clenched, her thighs parting to welcome his weight atop her.

Rip drew back, breathing harshly. The obsidian glitter of his eyes reflected back a hundred candles. Esme slipped free of his grip, her arms sliding around his heavily muscled neck. Yanking his head down, she kissed him hard, stealing his breath, her tongue darting over his. His hips gave a teasing little flex, driving her into the feather-soft mattress.

Esme turned her face, kissing his cheek and nuzzling his ear. Her sharp little teeth worried at the fleshy lobe and he gasped, his hips thrusting hard, a sound almost of anguish stealing across his lips.

“You like that?” she whispered, licking the imprint of her teeth.

“Like it?” he shuddered. “I love it.”

Esme put a hand to his shoulder and shoved. “Roll over.”

He complied, landing flat on his back with her straddling him. The irony of seeing her fierce giant lying amid acres of fluffy white-and-pink cotton made her smile. Running her hands up under his coat, she slipped it over his shoulders, effectively trapping him.

“And now you’re all mine,” she whispered, leaning forward and untying the red scarf at his throat. Her nimble fingers darted over the buttons of his shirt and as each inch of tempting golden skin was revealed she licked it, swirling her tongue around his nipples and worrying them between her teeth.

“Esme.” His hand slid through her hair, destroying her chignon. Not to push her away or pull her closer, but simply to hold her. As if he couldn’t quite decide what to do.

She kissed his throat and then whispered into his ear, “I love you. All of you. Every wickedly delicious inch.”

Rip’s arms curled around her and he held her close, his body stiff, as if he couldn’t quite believe the words. Esme seized the chance to slide her hand between them, her fingers darting under his waistband.

He sucked in a breath between his teeth. “Esme, I don’t--”

“Shush,” she whispered, her fingers closing over the silky-soft feel of him. So thick and firm. Throbbing beneath her touch. Wanting her so much that a slippery pearl of his seed gleamed wetly at his tip. She ran her thumb over it, again and again and Rip threw his head back with a groan.

“I’ll stop if you can’t control it,” she whispered, “just let me please you.”

His hand slid through her hair, trembling. Then he nodded.

Esme’s tugged her fingers free and reached for the length of silk. “Hold onto the bed,” she said. “I’m going to tie you up.”

“Won’t ‘old me.” Rough voice. Wicked eyes.

“I know. It’s a reminder. So if you feel yourself approaching the edge, you might be able to pull yourself back.” She ran the length of silk through her hands, her smile widening. “I think I quite like telling you what to do.”

“Do you?” His expression promised retribution.

“I do.”

Rip stared at her, then slowly reached back, the muscle in his biceps flexing and thin veins trailing up his arm.