Page 49 of Dark Embrace
It was true. The painting embodied light, captured it and set it free, pure and brilliant. And Killian hung it in his chamber, he who clung only to theshadows.
The thought madehersad.
He was not a creature of light. That much wasclear.
“Do you long for it, for the sunlight? For the warmth of it on your skin?” She could not tear her eyes from the painting. She felt as though the sun’s rays poured from the canvas to touchherface.
“No, I do not long for it. Not anymore. The moonlight has a cool and wonderful beauty, the night its own sweet music.” He moved close behind her. She could feel the heat of him. “I remember the sunlight with a vague and hazy fondness, but I do not long for it. It was a small sacrifice in exchange for all I have gained. I have learned to love thenight.”
His words brought so many questions to her lips, questions she dared not ask for she was not yet certain what she would do with the answers. She closed her eyes, every sense tingling with awareness, with the knowledge that he was so close. All she had to do was reach out and she could know the answers to untold mysteries. About him. Aboutherself.
If only shedared.
Dipping his head until his nose grazed the skin of her neck, he breathed in, his nearness and his action combining to set her heart racing. She ached for the stroke of his hand, the feel ofhislips.
Closing her eyes, she leaned back a little into hisembrace.
“Be certain, Sarah,” he whispered against the side of her throat, sending a tinkling cascade dancingthroughher.
She knew all he meant with those softly voiced words. Be certain it was this she wanted,himshe wanted. The unconventional life he offered. She did not know where he meant this to lead, but she could not imagine he offered her forever. She imagined he wanted her for his mistress for a time, and she refused to let societal judgment steal this joy. She would be his mistress and she would enjoy the moments they had together to thefullest.
“I am certain,” she whispered. She had no wish to cling to her past, had no idea of her future. In this moment, she was changed from the woman she had always been. In this moment, she wanted only tolive,to allow herself that luxury, that beauty. To know Killian’s touch, to offer him her love, even if this day was all she ever had of him, all they evershared.
Tomorrow would come regardless, and it would hold the same fears and uncertainties whether she indulged her heart or not. So, for one shining snippet of the unfurling ribbon that was her life, she would grab hold of what she wanted and take what shecould.
Reaching up, she pulled the pins from her hair and let it fall about her shoulders and downherback.
“Your hair is beautiful, a sleek, dark curtain with just a whisper of wayward curl at the ends.” He stroked his palm down the length, emphasizing his point. That touch made her mouth go dry and her pulse jerk like askittishcolt.
“You are beautiful, Sarah.” His words and the rich, lovely cadence of his voice mesmerized her. “The pink flush of your skin—” he drew his thumb along the edge of her jaw “—the lush curve of your lips—” his fingers slid to her lips, rubbed and stroked, and as her mouth opened on a gasp, the tip of his index finger dipped inside “—you are so lovelytome.”
On instinct, she licked his fingertip, then closed her teeth on him andbitdown.
His sharp intake of breath stabbed through her, sinking to her breasts, her belly, her trembling legs. Because she knew she ignited him. There was a lush and heady pleasureinthat.
“You bite,” hemurmured.
She hesitated but an instant, then whispered, “As, I suspect, do you.” There. She had done it. Acknowledged the secret that hovered between them. On some level, she understood. And she knew that he would nothurther.
He pulled her toward him then, taking her mouth in a hungry kiss, his tongue tasting her, his teeth nipping lightly at her lips. Pleasure spilled through her blood like a tide, making her breath rasp and her pulse race. Her skin felt too tight. Her clothes were unbearable fetters, and she hissed a sigh of relief as he began to loosen them. He slid each piece from her, kissing and caressing every inch of skin he bared. He ran his tongue along the top of her breast, and she arched her back, offering herself to him. She wanted the rest of her clothing gone. She wanted his mouth on hereverywhere.
Modesty demanded she blush and protest. Desire demanded that she open her mouth and taste him as he tasted her. She twined her fingers in his hair and brought her mouth to his, certain that if she did not kiss him, she would not survive it. The flavor of his kiss was heady, more wonderful than the finest wine she had eversampled.
The cool air in the room touched her, making her shiver. The sheets of his bed were even cooler as he guided her there and pressed her back against them, his fingers splayed lightly across her throat. She could feel her pulse drumming against hisfingertips.
With a groan, he traced his tongue along her jaw, her throat, his mouth coming to lie against her pulse. He kissed her there, his mouth open, insistent. She arched her neck, the graze of his teeth making her gasp, sending spiraling tendrils of need winding through herveins.
Feeling weightless and dizzy and wonderfully alive, she lay back and watched as he dragged off his coat, then his shirt, pulling the cloth over his head and down his arms. He bared the wonderful mystery of his chest, covered in dark gold hair that tapered to a thin line down the middle of his taut belly. She had seen shirtless men before, but none had been Killian. She came up on her knees and traced the tips of two fingers along the ridges of muscle that formed his chest, hisbelly.
“You are lovely,” she whispered. He was. But she had expected that, expected the lithe, lean lines and sculpted edges. She studied him in open curiosity, awed and amazed, and he laughed, a low wicked chuckle that stroked hersenses.
His eyes never left hers as he prowled closer to rest his knee between her own on the mattress. He kissed her and eased her back so she laybeneathhim.
Her body arched of its own accord, instinctively seeking his touch as he trailed his fingers down her neck, along her collar bone, to the swell of her breast above the thin cotton of her chemise. Feeling like a bow drawn taut, bent to its limit, she waited to see what he woulddonext.
A gasp escaped her, and it became a purr as he closed his hand about the soft flesh of her breast, stroked his thumb over her tight nipple through the thin cloth of her chemise. He lowered his head and closed his lips on her through the cloth, gentle suction that gave way to a more demanding pull. The sensation was like fire and ice and fireworks exploding in the sky, only the explosion was inside her, inside her blood, an aching need that spread. Heat.Liquidheat.
“Please.” She knew not what she begged for. Butheknew.