Page 54 of Dark Rival

She wrung out the linen and ran the wet rag down his arm, cleansing the blood there, too.

He breathed deeply and threw his head back. His eyes closed. The pulse in his throat throbbed. His abdomen tensed, the muscles hard and tight.

She rinsed the rag and laid it on his shoulder, so swollen she couldn’t stand it. Everything had changed in the past few hours—and there was no anger between them tonight.

Aware of what he was asking her for, aware of what she wanted, she moved the moist linen slowly over his chest.

He said, without opening his eyes, “Oh, dinna think I’m nay angry.”

She had to smile, removing more blood. “Hush.” She ran the moist rag lower, over his ribs, removing the blood there.

His gaze opened, hot and heavy, languid with intent. He remained arched backward against the table. “Ye can disobey me anytime,” he said softly, seductively, “but nay in battle.”

Allie hesitated. Her gaze was not on his. He was straining for that moist rag. “I think,” she said, and she slid the wet linen low, all the way down his belly, even though there was no blood there, “I may have learned my lesson.”

He sat still, breathing hard, watching her now.

Allie took the wet cloth and flicked it up his long, thick shaft.

He made a very harsh sound of enjoyment.

Allie met his gaze and smiled at him, her heart hammering with excitement. His gaze flared and he seized her hand.

He took the rag and tossed it aside. Allie sank to her knees, pleasure building wildly now, nuzzling his perfect length. He gasped and she teased him with her cheek. She thought she heard him ask her to hurry. She rained kisses on his hot skin.

Suddenly he seized her hips, lifting her to her feet and anchoring her between his legs. “Let go,” Allie gasped, because she had been about to do something she’d been thinking about for days.

“I’m master here,” he said, and he pulled her hips forward. Suddenly she was on his lap, his turgid erection against her side, and he was clasping her face in his hands. “I’m tired o’ this game.”

“Me, too,” she said, her heart ready to explode from her chest.

He looked at her and their eyes met. She saw wild excitement and hot lust, but also something else, bright and light. Then he lowered his face to hers.

Allie gasped with pleasure, with joy, because he claimed her lips with such hunger, such need and desperation that for one moment, she thought herself back in 2007. She reached for his shoulders and clung. He thrust his tongue deep while he kept her face still in his huge, uncompromising hands. Allie came to her senses and started kissing him back.

He finally grasped her skirt, the gesture brutal. Allie knew he was about to rip her clothes from her body. She seized the zipper and frantically pulled. He never stopped kissing her, but his mouth softened and she felt a smile.

“Yer precious garments,” he murmured.

“Very precious,” she gasped. Somehow she wriggled out of the skirt. He seized it and tossed it to the floor.

And he stopped kissing her.

Allie opened her eyes, breathing hard, her body positively in flames.

He stared down at her thong—and the soaking-wet flesh beneath. Then he gave her a sensual look. He slid his thumb beneath and Allie almost wept from the delicious pressure. Smiling, he rubbed deep, deeper, firmer, knowingly.

“Oh,” she gasped.

“I want to watch ye come, right now.”

Allie didn’t think it was a problem. She was about to crest and break. And then something stopped her—he stopped her, with some kind of force over her mind, her body, her sex.

Just as he’d done that first and only night.

“Except,” he said, his gaze blazing, “I want ye coming the first time with me inside.” He lifted her and laid her on the edge of the table, a knee on each side of his hips as he stood.

Allie began to hyperventilate. “Hurry.”