Behind the Courtesan - By Bronwyn Stuart Page 0,59

a raging inferno and she did something no courtesan should ever do. She lost control.

Wrapping her arms around his neck and threading her fingers into his hair she pressed her body to his.

Blake tasted of brandy and rain and all things good, but kissing wasn’t enough. She’d dreamed of being in his arms ever since the morning they’d woken on the road. As much as she’d been shocked and then angry, she couldn’t help but think how far it could have gone if their angry words hadn’t ruined everything. The possibilities had kept her up night after night until she’d had to pace in the cold to dampen her desires.

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?” she finally admitted.

His hands paused on the curve of her lower back. “How many?”

She let go of him and stepped back a half pace. She took the ends of the robe’s tie in her fingers and gave them a pull until the knot unraveled. “I lost count.”

“That many?” Blake’s eyes glazed over and his intent stare shifted from her mouth to her hands. The vagueness in his question said she had his full attention.

“Hmm. Have you thought about it?” She slid the material over an inch, teasing, taunting, tempting.

“That and more.”

“How did it go in your dreams?”

“I think even you are a little too innocent to hear about my dreams, Sophie.”

She laughed. “Why, Blake, I do believe that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He pushed her hands aside. “And I do believe the time for speaking has come and gone.”

Before Sophie could fill the space with more nervous chatter, Blake pressed his mouth to hers and she forgot every moment that had come before the perfectness of this one. It was almost as if he poured his very heart into the kiss.

Together they stepped back, little tiny steps so as not to break contact. Her hands were everywhere as she traced the contours of his shoulders, his back, his neck. His hands moved over her hips, over her buttocks to tighten on her thighs, to lift her so she straddled his sex where they stood. God, he was strong. “Wait,” she managed between drugging kisses. “I want to see...”

“You’ve seen it all before,” he groaned.

Sophie pushed against his chest until she was back on her feet. “Humor me.”

With fast jerky movements, Blake ripped the robe from his shoulders and dropped it to the floor. “There, happy now?” he teased, his tone impatient.

“Not yet.” She stepped forward again, her gaze low as her hands skimmed the muscles of his stomach until they reached their goal. As lightly as she could with her fingers still numb with cold, she stroked and then cupped him. Her other hand, she wrapped around his length and tightened her grip.

“Wait,” he murmured, his voice tight with tension. “It’s not fair for me to be naked and not you.”

“I would never want to be accused of unfair play.”

Blake chuckled as he reached for her hem, the last barrier between them and certain pleasure. It was also the last barrier between friends and lovers. Sophie wanted it gone. She lifted her arms.

Her chemise landed on the floor by the door with a slap, but they both ignored it. Blake’s hands rose to mold her curves from her hips up to her breasts and back to her bottom. His callused palms did scratch, but they only served to heighten the moment, to increase the urgency, her response was instantaneous. She wrapped her arms around his neck again and pulled him until their lips crashed at the same time their bodies did. Furious need drove her as she all but climbed his body until she once again straddled him, his hands on her bottom to hold her up as he walked the last few steps toward the closest wall. Her back slammed into the cold timber and she laughed.

“God, I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Blake went to pull back, but Sophie tightened her legs, linked her ankles and nipped his bottom lip. “I’m not going to break. I can handle anything you throw at me.”

His mouth curved into a smile of challenge. “Anything?”

“Give it your best, I promise I can keep up.”

With a flex of his fingers, he parted her, pulled back and eased in until she felt so filled with him, so complete it was almost scary.

A moan crept from her lips and her head fell back.

“Are you still with me?” he asked, fingers tightening, kneading,