Page 31

He dropped a kiss to her slanting jaw, the hollow skin beneath the bone. He spoke against her throat, unwilling to part from that tantalizing stretch of flesh.

“Tell me, if I weren’t here and there was no battle to deflect or revenge to plan, what would you do with your days?”

Adara’s hips arched off the bed. Her hand found his shoulder and squeezed.

He relished it. Short, breathy pants escaped her as he curled his fingers in a come hither motion over and over, gliding his thumb along the hard point at her juncture.

The rosy flush of her cheeks, the twitch of her thighs together as if she meant to protect herself and couldn’t—Grahame was awestruck.

Greedily, he watched as he brought her to the brink then smothered her mouth with a kiss as she tipped over.

Her moan raked through him, stroking the flame of his own need.

His cock was weeping by the time he pulled back.

“If I weren’t otherwise occupied, what would I do?” Adara asked as he flipped to his back then gripped her about the hips, hauling her overtop of him.

With one hand she gripped his cock, arching a delicate brow as she ran the tip of him across her center. Grahame’s mind went blank.

Heat. Silky, wet, heat caused him to jolt upward, his body raging for release. Adara lifted herself just out of reach, hovering over him. A wicked grin sliced her mouth.

“I suppose I would have a leisurely breakfast with Muretta, read through some correspondence, go for a walk to the copse of trees and sit for a while. I like to look at more than clouds, you know. Flowers and animals are just as fascinating.”

The heartbreaking simplicity of the enjoyment only half registered with Grahame as she slid him though her folds again, this time pausing a moment to glide over the crown of him.

Just when he thought she would slide all the way, she popped back off.

A loud curse sprang from his lips. But then she was running her core up and down the length of him, her little pants starting back up.

He wasn’t ready to surrender to the instinct that screamed at him to shove inside her like a madman. Adara was talking to him.

“Then what?” he ground out, fixing his hands on her thighs.

His fingertips dented her flesh in such a satisfactory manner, Grahame was tempted to grab her roughly everywhere to see how her soft skin looked with his claim on it.

“I would take Ulrich for a ride, with Hagan, since he would follow me anyway, and we would start slow at first, then I’d spur ahead. And since he’s pigheaded, he would race me, nearly making me lose but then pull back at the end since I’m his lady, and he always lets me win.”

Adara dragged herself off the tip of his cock, her legs shaking. Grahame was entranced by the pink spread of her being split by him. Jolts of pleasure wracked him, holding him hostage against the urge to dominate her. He reminded himself she needed this; needed to know she was in control.

Perhaps he did, too. With his other lovers, he’d taken the required time to please them, then raced to the finish. It made him a rogue, but he had no desire to mislead them with the promise of intimacy. Fortunately, they knew what he was about.

“Of course he does,” Grahame huffed, grabbing the hand she braced on one of her legs and entwining their fingers. The way her lips parted in surprise made something in his chest cave a little.

“Would you seek out a lover later? Someone to have fun with?”

Adara shook her head, sliding along the ridge of him once.

Grahame had to bite an oath in half at the way his cock strained for her.

She must have seen it in the tendons that jumped from his neck, the tension in his shoulders as he held himself back.

Blessedly, she brought him to her entrance again, her gaze unfocused as she looked between them, eyes wide.

Pride roared in Grahame’s chest. Not one to back down from a challenge, Adara sank herself onto him, inch by agonizing inch as she continued, albeit voice higher.

“No lovers. I enjoy the company of those at my table and have found no need for a man to satisfy me.”

Grahame bucked his hips up at that. Adara lost her hold, her hands going to his chest as she sank all the way onto him. She was like a goddamn vice. Grahame began to think of his sheep. The sweet, shitty scent of them to stave off the pleasure that threatened to crush him.

“However,” Adara amended, voice reedy, as she slid upward then down, “I am answering this as if you and I were not married, if I were living a day to myself without obligation.”

Grahame’s hands flexed on the fleshy part of her hips that he so desperately enjoyed grabbing handfuls of.

“Am I merely an obligation?” he rasped. A curl had fallen over his forehead as he arched his neck back trying to remain still. It hung in his eye but he wasn’t letting her go to move it.

Adara’s breasts hung heavy, her nipples pointed.

“No,” she whispered, meeting his gaze.

Then she began to move, leaning back and rolling her hips to reach the spot he’d hit in her earlier.

Grahame was lost to her movement, her scent, her hair falling around them.

Adara’s fingers squeezed and pulled while her legs pumped.

They chased their release the same way she’d spoken of racing horses, each outpacing the other than drawing back, hearts hammering.

“’Dara,” he groaned, pulling her toward him.

She fell onto him, forking her hands into his hair as her mouth met with his.

Their tongues crashed together, sighs and moans meshing.

When Adara’s rhythm became erratic, Grahame snaked a hand between them, swiping her center.

Then…there wasn’t a word for the sensation of her muscles clenching around his cock other than rapture.

Her moan was loud as it rolled into his mouth.

Unable to stop himself, Grahame thrust up into her, not breaking the kiss, until he was spilling inside her, his body jerking helplessly.

As she sagged on top of him, Grahame allowed himself a small smile. Adara must have felt it against the crown of her head for she nuzzled into his chest and asked why he was grinning like an idiot.

“I’ve spent my life waiting, ’Dara. I used to retrace the trails we wandered. I would wonder if you were happy or had children. Sometimes, when I was a little drunk or especially melancholy, I would look to the sky and wonder if you were looking at those very same stars, thinking of me.”

Adara’s lips pressed against the muscle of his chest, overtop his heart.

“I was, Grahame.”

Any further words were caught in the swell of Grahame’s throat. He pressed a kiss to Adara’s head, his hand drawing through her hair.

They lay entwined for the rest of the morning, sharing small hopes and rediscovering old memories. And, for the first time since he was a youth, Grahame felt a sense of contentment grow in him. He resolved to never let it go.