Page 4 of The Warrior’s Forbidden Virgin

She lifted her arms around him once more, and he opened his mouth, dipping his tongue into her depths the way he wanted to enter her body. She was trembling now, her skin prickling with goose flesh.

Without asking permission, he pulled her into his arms and brought her near the hearth. Turning her to face the flames, he lifted the wet gown away from her skin, trying to warm her.

Katherine didn’t speak but peeled away the wet bliaud and underdress. The layers fell away until she stood barefoot in her linen shift. He couldn’t stop himself from tracing the outline of her neck, down her slender shoulders, to rest upon her waist. Her bottom rested against his hard length, and she deliberately pressed back against him.

“This is sinful,” she whispered, holding his hands in hers. “But I don’t care. I want to be wicked right now. I want to do something so forbidden, my father would kill me if he knew.”

She drew his arms around her while her head nestled beneath his chin. He could feel the plump curve of her breasts beneath his forearms, and he tried to distract himself with kissing her nape.

Then she moved his palms to her nipples, and Ademar grew even more aroused. He could barely breathe, and he knew not what she was doing. He spread out his fingers, letting them splay over the large handful. Then he gently squeezed the flesh, and she gasped.

Suddenly, it didn’t matter that he didn’t know what to do. This was about her, about making her understand how much he desired her. He experimented with his touch, gently caressing her as though she were made of silk. He learned the amount of pressure she liked, and when she leaned in, he rubbed his thumbs over the ridged tips, responding to her sighs of need.

But he wanted more.

Ademar turned her around and gently lowered her shift to just beneath her breasts. Exposed to the air, her lovely pink nipples bloomed beneath his touch. She tried to cover herself, but he bent low and took one into his mouth, warming it with his tongue.

Her breathing quickened, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she held his head to her breast, her fingers sliding into his hair. He gave the same heated kisses to her other breast, and no longer did he have a coherent thought in his head. He was driven by raw need, the desire to give her pleasure. And in her responses, in the flushed skin and throaty moans, he found a sense of pride in discovering what she liked.

She moved her palms beneath his tunic, lifting it off until she traced the muscles of his chest. His heart was racing, but he cupped her heavy breasts, kissing her mouth again with a shaking need.

“We sh-should stop,” he muttered, hating the stammer that escaped him.

“Don’t.” While there was fear in her eyes, there was also the haze of undeniable passion. She explored him with her hands, touching his skin as though she couldn’t get enough. With her bare breasts pressed against his chest, she pulled him close until his erection was nestled against her thighs.

It was a prelude to something else, and the idea of breaching her virginity was unthinkable. This had gone too far already.

But then, she took his hands and led him over to the bed. She sat down on the edge, and her shift fell away, baring her to the waist. “Make me forget about Ewan,” she pleaded.

The words stopped him cold, for he realized what this was truly about. She wanted to lose herself in a moment she would regret, come the dawn. Anger he hadn’t known he could feel suddenly raged.

What had he believed, that she would actually desire a man like him? That she could look past his stutter to see the man beneath? She was using him. It was never about wanting him or desiring him.

Was she pretending he was Ewan? Had she allowed the Irishman to touch her in this way? If he fulfilled her secret longings, would she cry out Ewan’s name?

A vicious jealousy tightened in his gut. Once, just once, he wanted a woman to desire him for himself. Not to be used as a pawn.

He almost pushed her away. But then, darkness claimed his sense of reason, for she was with him now, wasn’t she? He might not be the man she wanted, but she had turned to him during this time of hurting.

He leaned over her, stroking her damp hair with a tenderness he almost didn’t feel. “When I’ve finished with you, my lady, you won’t even remember his name.”

Chapter Two

Katherine was well aware that she’d made Sir Ademar angry. There was a tension there, a sense that she’d struck an invisible wound.

When he kissed her again, there was a hard edge to the embrace. The knight suddenly became the man she’d seen fighting in the tournament, single-minded and ruthless. Though she’d known he was a purposeful man, she had never felt that attention directed toward herself.

If his claim was true, that she was the first woman he’d ever touched, then he possessed natural instincts. His roughened hands moved over her legs, sliding up her thighs as he pressed her back against the bed. She was completely exposed to him, and second thoughts began to take apart her intentions.

When his mouth closed over her breast again, she lost the ability to breathe. He tasted her skin, swirling his tongue over her erect nipple. Blowing softly, he bit at the tip.

She cried out at the contact, and he soothed her skin with his mouth, seeming to understand that he’d been too rough. His large hands moved over her ribs, pressing kisses upon her skin until she shivered.

“Do you like that?” he murmured, dragging her shift lower until it tangled around her limbs. At last, he removed it until she was completely naked.

Cold reality swept over her as surely as his warm body covered hers. He was right. They needed to stop now, before she made an irrevocable mistake.

“Ademar,” she whispered, lifting his face to hers. With her thumbs, she traced the hardness of his mouth, trying to soften him.