His finger brushed the bud of her sex and she had to stifle a moan. His bold touch inflamed her senses, igniting the explosive emotions simmering between them.
She drew a sharp breath as he released her to unfasten the buttons of his breeches. His erection sprang long and thick and hard from the base of his groin.
He was going to take her right there, she knew, yet she didn’t want to stop him.
Lost in the blaze of his eyes, she began to tremble, wild arrows of sensation shooting through her body, excitement coursing through her veins. There was an inevitability about it that frightened and thrilled her.
He reached for her again, pulling her against him. When his mouth slanted down upon hers, passion flared instantly between them. His tongue was wet and scalding as it thrust into her mouth, the turbulence of their clashing wills only adding to the heat.
Then his fingers found the center of her femininity and slid deeply inside her, as his tongue was doing to her mouth. Brynn forgot everything else in a fiery burst of pure, erotic hunger.
As did Lucian.
His temper had turned to burning fever. He wanted to shatter that cool control of hers with passion, wanted to turn her determined resistance to heated surrender.
Not giving himself time to think, he lifted her up and set her astride him, crumpling her skirts around her waist. Brynn gasped as he slowly impaled her, yet her body accepted him easily, sheathing him in silk fire.
And suddenly they were kissing with frantic intensity, all the tension of the past weeks exploding in the heat of animal hunger. His hands slid up her back to twist in her hair, while the rock and sway of the carriage drove him deeper into her.
His tongue delved into her mouth, devouring and demanding, the taste of her making him wild. He had expected a fight and instead found the fury of a consuming desire sweet on her lips. He kissed her more fiercely, stoking the fire that flamed between them.
She wasn’t feigning her desire; he felt it in her kiss, in the frantic, melting way she clung to him, in the hoarse sounds of pleasure she was making. Their tongues mated in a fever of need, and he arched his hips, burying himself even deeper inside her quivering body. He was feverish, but no more so than she. She matched the primitive force of his passion, moving with him in a frenzied rhythm.
Her eagerness shattered Lucian’s restraint, shredded any remnant of self-control. He was helpless to resist-but so was she. Breaking off their kiss, she threw back her head and gave a raw cry.
She was beautiful, hot and wild, her face flushed with passion, her mouth open. It was only an instant later when Lucian followed her in a fiery climax.
His chest rising and falling as he gulped air, he came slowly to his senses. Brynn had collapsed in his arms, her face buried in his throat. He was shuddering in the aftermath, roiling with the turmoil of emotions he’d felt-still felt-tenderness, fury, fire.
It was shocking how swiftly he had lost control. His explosion was the culmination of weeks of frustrated lust, and of jealousy as well. He’d been driven by possessiveness, by the primal need to stake his claim to her… Yet his violent reaction had been stronger than mere possessiveness, Lucian knew. It was stark fear that Brynn could have been hurt. That he could have lost her. Once she was safe, all his feelings had come spilling out. He’d taken her with primal urgency, not even knowing when anger had turned to desire, to ravenous hunger.
Devil take it, he knew better. He knew how to be gentle. Knew how to rouse her slowly, to make his caresses so sensual she would nearly die of pleasure before he took his own.
He drew a ragged breath, fighting for control. His muscles still trembled with the burning need to possess her. And Brynn… She would no doubt regret their explosive passion even more than he did. God, but he wanted to turn that regret to willing surrender.
His lips grew soft on her face, his fever mellowing to tenderness as he held her and stroked her, sliding his palms slowly down her naked thighs…
“You’re a witch,” he whispered huskily against her hair. “A beautiful, sweet witch.”
It was clearly the wrong thing to say. He felt Brynn’s sudden stiffening, as if he’d doused ice water over her heated body. Pushing against his chest, she detached herself from his embrace and scrambled off him.
Retreating to her corner of the carriage, Brynn smoothed out her disheveled skirts with trembling hands.
“I am not a witch,” she murmured unsteadily, hating that designation. For much of her life she’d attempted to live down that tainted label.
“No, of course not,” he replied in a low voice that was unexpectedly conciliatory. “It was merely a figure of speech… an endearment spoken in the heat of the moment.”
&nb
sp; Brynn sent him a despairing glance, feeling the silky wetness of Lucian’s seed slicking her inner thighs. Shame, desire, hurt, dismay all swirled in her breast. Her gown was rumpled and stained, yet Lucian hadn’t even wrinkled his perfectly tailored coat. And he thought her a witch.
Forcing back the pain, she tried to respond with indifference. “You just informed me that you wouldn’t countenance my wantonness, Lucian. It is hardly fair of you to demand unimpeachable conduct from me and then promptly contradict your own commands.”
“Wantonness with me,” he said carefully as he fastened his breeches, “is not the same as wantonness in public, Brynn. I am your husband, after all.”
“Perhaps so, but I prefer not to be mauled as you have a penchant for doing.”
His blue eyes narrowed. “Mauled? You can’t pretend you were an unwilling participant, siren. Your raw cries of pleasure would argue otherwise.”