Page 86 of Dark Embrace

Brie cried out; his mouth cut off her cry. She closed her eyes as his lips claimed hers, and exultancy began. She had wanted his kiss forever! He bent her backward, but this was better than her dreams. Brie tried to kiss him back. It was almost impossible, and she went still, letting his mouth devour hers. The kiss raged, deep and wet, and Brie began to weep in joy, clinging to him.

He moved her and the back of her thighs hit the bed. She went down on her back and he came down on top of her, his tongue deep in her mouth. Brie moved her hands over his hard, muscular back, arching her hips toward his. He ripped the plaid from his loins and flung it aside.

She stroked past his shoulder blades. He shuddered and gasped. She battled back tears, crying for him, because he was so famished for love and affection.

He broke the kiss. His blue eyes were wide, locking with hers. Brie smiled at him and stroked up to his shoulders, clasping them briefly, and he shuddered again, his eyes closing. When she slid her hand up his neck, he moaned and sank onto the bed beside her, on his back.

The sight of Aidan lying there, arched back into the pillows, the most magnificent man she had ever seen, made her heart slam.

She had to touch him, caress him and give him so much love, as much as she could. Brie raised up and laid her hand on his chest again, and he cried out, seizing it, pressing it hard to the muscles there. Ye torture me.

He hadn’t spoken aloud. Brie smiled a little at him. “Let me love you, Aidan. Let me heal you.” She dropped a kiss on his shoulder and another one on his chest.

“Yer the virgin,” he gasped roughly.

Brie was already moving her hand down his tight, cut abdomen. He reared up. As she caressed him, she saw two tears slip free of his lower lashes and track in parallel lines down to his jaw.

He was crying.

She leaned over and kissed his belly, sliding her hand back up to his chest. As she kissed him, she let her love burst forth.

He choked.

She kissed him again, on his throat, and swept her hand down to his navel. She wasn’t trying to tease him, but in that instant, she felt a shocking urgency.

He cried out, turning away from her onto his belly. Brie went still, and then the pleasure blinded her.

He was climaxing.

Her own body went wild. It was as if she were having her own release—almost. Instinctively she held him from behind, gasping against her own pleasure, her cheek against his back while he convulsed. He was spinning wildly, euphorically, and she was with him. Then the spinning slowed and he began to float—she began to float. As he went still, she simply held him, loving him so much her chest hurt.

But her body was on fire, throbbing terribly, and she had about five hundred layers of clothes on, which did not help matters.

Trembling, she became aware of the moment he was coherent. His embarrassment flooded her with its warmth, but only for an instant, because suddenly he shielded his emotions from her.

She bit her lip, flushing. She was the virgin and he had pretty much acted like one. Then, as the disbelief faded, she began to smile. It would be funny if his neediness weren’t so tragic. And he was very macho. He wasn’t going to be amused at all.

“’Tis nay amusin’.” His tone was rough. He rolled over to face her and she glimpsed a still massive erection as he sat up. Desire surged forth. He blocked it partly, but it didn’t matter. Her entire body tightened, heated, hollowed. “I am sorry,” he said, his face set in hard lines.

“It’s okay.” She reached for his cheek but he pulled away. He was blushing.

“’Tis nay okay.” His stare was direct, even though his cheeks were red. “Yer touch unmans me.”

It sure does, she thought, and she smiled. It was sinking in. She was thrilled.

“Yer pleased to have taken a boy to yer virginal bed?” he asked softly. But suddenly he seized her belt.

“Very!” she cried, undaunted. And she froze, realizing what he meant to do.

Suddenly he was tugging on her belt. She tensed as he stripped it away fiercely, tossing her plaid aside, as well. “Ye wear too many clothes,” he murmured, pulling her sweatshirt off.

Brie lay absolutely still, incapable of speech.

He gripped the tunic and ripped it abruptly from her body.

Brie felt faint, urgency consuming her as he hooked his hands beneath her bra straps, his expression hard. It crossed her very befuddled mind to ask him not to rip it off, but too late: the straps snapped and her bra vanished. He pressed her shoulders down with one hand, eyes blazing.

There was no point in breathing now. Brie thought she might die soon.