Letters at Christmas Read Online Free Page B

expectation. She almost stopped him. Didn’t she deserve a slower seduction—especially after not receiving a blasted letter?
    Then, even to herself she wondered, would she never let that go? He’d come back to her, safe and happy and wanting her. It was enough, more than enough.
    Then she noticed his hand trembling. Not the one between her legs. That one was sure where it played in her folds, drawing out the wetness and stroking along swollen lips. And touching the one place he had showed her, the place she touched herself. No, it was the hand behind her head that trembled. The hairs behind her neck stood up on end, some primitive instinct awakening to the danger nearby, the instability inherent to him.
    How long had it been for him? A dangerous line of thought, filled with other women and dark, latent jealousy. And yet, she could not deny the urgency that engulfed him. His body quaked while he slid his fingers deeper. His breath stuttered from his mouth while his tongue and lips and teeth demanded. He was a study in sexual contradiction, the nervous ingénue and seasoned seducer, but in his indecision she found her confidence, a new and shared freedom. If he could be breathless and needful, so could she. If he could shiver with desire, then her frantic pulses would soothe him. She swallowed hard, and spread her legs wider.
    Take me.
    On a groan, he said, “Sidony.”
    “I’m here,” she whispered.
    His weight lowered over her body. Something prodded between her legs, hot and urgent. Alarm streaked through her, along with a pinch of pain, a slight stretching sensation. Would he be careful? A fever had overtaken him, blinding him, sighting him. She couldn’t turn him away in his need. This was all she’d wanted, this was what a letter would have meant. He stopped at the final moment. His thick member had breached her, parted her and now held her open. His thighs, rough with hair, kept her thighs apart. He pushed back to look at her. His lust-dazed eyes stared down at her.
    “Marry me.”
    A strange tightness welled in her chest, a prickling in her eyes. She had to admit that this sex-drenched proposal was more romantic to her, for them, than any rose-strewn parade could have been. She had to admit that she loved him. There was only one problem. She couldn’t trust him. One day he had promised her the world. The next he had walked away without looking back. It could happen again. It would happen again, she told herself, and then she would be crushed. Crushed and bound to him by matrimony.
    “No,” she said, but if she thought he’d be discouraged, she’d been wrong.
    He licked her bottom lip. “Yes.”
    And then, for good measure, he pushed inside.
    She gasped. “This is not…open for negotiation.”
    “I believe that’s exactly what we’re doing.” The thick shaft left her empty before sliding into her again. “I love you, Sidony.”
    Her lips parted on a sigh. “You’ll leave again.”
    “No, never. I swear to you.”
    His thrusts became harder, more sure, as if he could prove his devotion through the force of his lovemaking alone—and inexplicably, she found his argument convincing. Pleasure coursed through her, every part of her coming alive. Her body wanted to feel like this, again, always. Her heart wanted him near and safe and hers , in the basest sort of possession. And her mind—ah, her mind was lost to the tidal wave of sensations, dragged under with a soft, muffled cry, and drowned beneath the onslaught of her deepest, most secret desire.
    The feelings crested within her and broke against jagged, damning rocks. Soft sounds of hope lost and found escaped her while she cradled him and urged him on. He froze suddenly, his mouth open. There was that choked sound again, and she realized it wasn’t a laugh. She stared up at the pain and longing in his eyes before he shut them. Then there was only his face stern in ecstasy and the harsh, almost cruel grip on her hips as he ground himself into