Cavanaugh Trilogy 1: Seven Days by Ariel Atwell

Author:Ariel Atwell
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Tags: Regency, BDSM, Historical
Publisher: Loose Id LLC
Published: 2015-06-14T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Day Five, Part One

When he next awoke, it was nearly dawn, her body was spooned into his, and while his cock was quite sore from the previous day’s activities, it nonetheless stood at full attention against his belly. No matter how many times and ways he took her, it was still not enough. He was never completely sated. He wanted her right now, in fact, and there was nothing to stop him from using her body to ease his lust.

But then she murmured something in her sleep, and he laid his head back against the pillow and stroked her hip softly. She had not slept well, and it would not be kind of him to wake her.

He stared sightlessly into the morning gloom, cursing his weakness. She was here entirely for his pleasure, was she not? The purpose of their week together was so that he could finally purge her from his system. Now he was hard and needing relief. But instead of taking her, he was holding back because he didn’t want to disturb her sleep.

Why the hell should he care about her lack of sleep? But he knew the answer.

You’re growing attached to her again, you fool. He thought of the way she had looked at him yesterday in the library. She was coming to care for him as well. He could see it in those blue eyes that had gone from angry and accusing to warm and passionate.

It was dangerous and had to be stopped. He would do what had to be done.

“Sweet dreams, my lady,” he said softly, enjoying the feeling of her against him in spite of himself. He shut his eyes and let himself drift back into sweet oblivion.

* * * *

“I have something for you,” he said, surprising her at breakfast the following day.

He was clad in a pair of fawn-colored breeches and a white linen shirt that was almost entirely unbuttoned, revealing a satisfying slice of his muscled chest to her gaze. His hair was tousled from sleep, and he had not yet shaved, a day’s growth of beard shadowing his jaw in a most attractive way. He had a boyish look of enthusiasm on his face and was so utterly handsome she found it difficult to remember to hate him.

She gave him a wary look. “You have something for me?”

He laughed. “Not like that, silly goose, although if you wanted it…” He leered at her, and she laughed. “You’re just teasing me again, I see. Raising my hopes and dashing them.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Um, who is teasing whom?”

“You’re awfully serious so much of the time. You need teasing.”

“That’s rich coming from you, my lord. You drag me against my will to your manor in the wilds of England, have your wicked way with me, and now you’re complaining I’m too serious.”

“Must we dwell on all that?” he said, taking a bite of her toast.

“Oh, that’s mine!” He ignored her, dipping the bread into the eggs on her plate with great fanfare before popping it into his mouth.

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