Bride of the Beast by Adrienne Basso

Author:Adrienne Basso [Basso, Adrienne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2017-05-29T18:30:00+00:00

Bethan awoke with her cheek nestled on Haydn’s bare chest, her body pressed against his, one of her legs settled between his thighs. The room was bathed in an eerie glow of sputtering candles and glowing embers from the low-burning fire in the grate. No sunlight, nor moonlight for that matter, invaded the chamber.

Puzzled, Bethan glanced at the window on the far side of the room and realized it was covered with a dark swath of material. Haydn’s cloak? She shifted her weight, intending to investigate, but the movement woke her slumbering husband.

“Is it morning?” he inquired huskily.

She shook her head. “I am uncertain. I think ’tis still night.” She moved herself into a half-reclining position, staring intently at the hidden window. “Why did you place your cloak over the window?”

“To ward off the chill,” he explained.

Her brow rose in confusion. “I had no idea you were so affected by the cold.”

“’Tis a grave secret that I shield from others.” He sighed with exaggeration. “Truth be told, I have a most delicate constitution.”

Was he jesting with her? Startled, she gazed down at his fit, muscular body, then up to his face where the merest hint of a smile curled his lips. The Warrior of the North was teasing her? The notion produced a sudden, almost painful tug on her heart.

Uncertain how to interpret this unexpected, playful side to his character, she huddled down beside him. Her hand rested on his chest. When he moved, she felt the ripple of hard muscle under her fingers and the steady, heavy thump of his heart.

“It must be night,” she muttered. “All is quiet and still inside the castle.”

“Sleep. I am certain you are exhausted.”

“No, not really. The small nap I just took has revived me.” She ran her hand over the knotted contours of his arms and chest. His physique was beautiful, the skin sleek and smooth. “You have no scars, no wounds at all. ’Tis strange for a warrior of your experience.”

He opened one eye and stared at her. “And what do you know of warrior’s scars, wife?”

Bethan smiled. She liked hearing him call her wife. “I have seen the soldiers on the practice field. When it gets too warm, they often remove their tunics and continue the training bare-chested.”

Haydn snorted. “Saints preserve us all from curious maidens. No doubt the men worked harder to build up a sweat, knowing you were ogling them.”

Laughing, she turned toward him, pressing her mouth to his chest, impishly sending her tongue across his nipple.

Haydn went perfectly still. Curious, Bethan did it again. He groaned, softly. Encouraged, she swirled her tongue around the turgid peak, then pulled it into her mouth and sucked. Hard.

He muttered a few words and she continued. Featherlight, her fingers slid down his belly, across his firm stomach. She smiled as his penis sprang up against her hand. The air grew sultry with need.

“More,” he rasped.

Bethan’s heavy-lidded gaze followed the path of her fingers. Thick and hard, his penis thrust out from a thatch of dark hair at his groin.

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