by Beth Mikell
Colin pulled his mouth away, gripping Ryrie’s face between his hands. His stormy eyes bore down hard into hers. “I did come to you tonight, sweetness,” he raged savagely. “I stood outside your door, wanting to knock, willing myself to take only a kiss, but I knew if I touched you... I would not be able to stop. I left,” he growled through clenched teeth, pushing his hard shaft up against her body with the evidence of his meaning. “This is how much I want you.”
She pressed closer with her own meaning and easy acceptance. “I am staying.” Ryrie ran her hand through the hair of his chest, and a shudder rolled over his body.
An agonizing pain like expression crossed his face. “Ryrie, I am wrong for you,” he breathed, his eyes closing.
“No, you do not get to act the fallen knight—not with me.”
His eyes popped open and he snorted. “I am more than a fallen knight. I am the worst kind of low—not fit to touch you or make promises I cannot keep. You deserve more.”
Ryrie grasped his face between both hands, her eyes glittering with violet anger. “Do not speak such things against yourself. I refuse to believe that. None of us are perfect in our walk in life, yet we make the best we can and seek forgiveness. You are not your wounds of your past,” she vented, her hands shaking as she held his head. “You are a knight with honor that lost his way, but I see the good in you. I want you for myself... for always, Colin. And you are wrong... I do deserve you.”
He pulled her hands from his face, gripping her hands with his. “Sweetness, you slay me. You push the limits of my tolerance and still I want more of you.” He blew out a harsh breath. “I have done terrible things. How can you see me as honorable or deserving?”
She tilted her chin with determination, removing her hands out of his and placed them over his heart. The muscles of his chest flexed under her touch. “I see what is here.”
Before he could respond, Ryrie stepped out of his arms, and Colin’s eyes narrowed into slits as she unfastened the black onyx buttons of her velvet overdress. The material hit the floor and her hands sought the front closure of her gown, but Colin stopped her.
He leaned forward, brushing his lips across her hands, and he raised his head to look into her questioning eyes. “Let me, sweetness.”
There was no going back now.
Each button slipped through their holes with sweet ease, and Colin pushed the dress off her shoulders to the floor. Ryrie stood in her only her chemise, unashamed and waiting for his next touch. She unfastened her heavy braid, threading her fingers through the damp, black mass.
****
Colin was powerless to refuse her, no matter right or wrong. He wanted her—for now and always. She stood so close, so sweetly offering up his very own plate of penitence and he refused to deny her or himself.
She was a vision of ecstasy.
Desire speared him and he swallowed hard, searching for control. “Climb on the bed, sweetness.” He led her by the hand, and he helped her up.
“Sit back on your knees and face the pillows,” he commanded softly, waiting until Ryrie complied before shucking off his boots and pants, casting them aside.
****
Ryrie felt the bed give way as he settled behind her. With one bent knee on either side of her hips, she shuddered. His body heat radiated through her back, and the position left her completely vulnerable to his exploration. She sat waiting for his touch with overwrought nerves. “Let me see you,” she begged softly.
“Wait, sweetness,” he rasped.
****
He could not let her see him. Not yet. At heart, he was still a devalued knight who needed cover, even from her. Colin drew his hands up her arms, and Ryrie shivered under the fluid sweep of his hands, over her skin to settle on her shoulders. “Let me love you, Ryrie.”
“Yes,” she hissed out.
One hand reached up to push the inky mass of her hair to one side over her shoulder. He leaned forward to kiss the back of her neck, rewarded with a sigh from her lips.
“I cannot touch you this way, Colin,” she protested, as a quiver rippled over her.
“Just feel,” he murmured, cupping her full breasts through her chemise, closing his eyes in reverent splendor, testing her softness. Her heart pounded hard against his hand. Her nipples beaded through the thin material, and he swallowed a lump in his dry throat. Colin was seized with a rampant desire to roll Ryrie over and devour her. He was hungry for every part of her lush body. But, still he waited, savoring.
Ryrie’s head fell back against his shoulder. “Colin.” She turned her head into his throat. Her mouth trailed against his skin.
“Shh, easy.”
His fingers slipped the ribbons of her chemise open with ease and drew the cloth down her shoulders, freeing her arms. She felt like silk… everywhere. He feathered over her warm skin, teasing, cupping, and kneading her naked breasts. Her nipples hardened to perfect points and he groaned, thumbing and rolling the edges between his fingers. Divine. Hot. Wonderful. He imagined them in his mouth. The rigid peaks hitting the roof of his mouth. Suckling her until she cried out. He rubbed his shaft against her backside, tortured by the thought. He was rewarded with a soft moan from her throat. A test of control soon followed.
His hand moved lower over the plain of her stomach, teasing still lower until he encountered her snug curls, holding the flower he planned to take. Ryrie flexed into his caress, her legs widening more to oblige access for his hand. “You are so soft, sweetness, so perfect.” His finger dipped inside her satiny folds, finding her wet and ready. He rubbed himself against her, so tempted for an early release, yet still he waited.
She gasped, squirming against him. “Every touch of your hands is perfect.” Ryrie arched into him, her hands reaching to stroke his thighs, urging him closer.
He teased her, rubbing her sweet nub, stimulating a hot fire, as his tongue flicked out to trace her ear. “You are perfect, Ryrie… so perfect.” He enjoyed the sway of her hips… withering with every brush of his hand. “I want you on my hands… my mouth… my tongue. Let go sweetness. Let go,” he breathed against her ear as his other hand came up and kneaded her breast, lightly pinching with just the right pressure.
“Colin… I cannot… I do not …” she said, hitting a powerful surge, continuing to move against his hand in a rhythm he set before her.
“Let go, sweetness,” he commanded, biting down on her earlobe as his hand cornered her pleasure.
Ryrie shook hard, clenching down on his hand, riding him through a hard scream.
But… still he waited on her pleasure.
He waited for her to come down before turning her in his arms and gently lay her down on the pillows. With a soft tug, he drew her chemise off, casting it to the side. His eyes feasted on her bare body.
Colin drew in a ragged breath. “You are so beautiful.” His long tormented heart released in a surge of delight at the sight of her flush body open to his gaze. Her midnight hair fanned out around her, the violet of her eyes alight with her first taste of passion, her soft rosy mouth, parted, quivering and begging to be kissed. Her breasts puckered tightly in the air, just waiting for his mouth to savor, down the valley of her stomach to the secret place he had pleasured with his hand. He was tormented further, waiting with something close to violence.
God above, he simply stared.
****
Ryrie’s heartbeat tripled, her breathing skipping fast for her long, lost knight. She stared up at him with complete trust and hope. He kneeled before her, naked and unabashed. His golden hair flowed down to his shoulders, reaching the middle of his chest where cords of muscles rippled. Her hands ached to touch him. Her eyes fell lower and widened at the proof of his desire—all for her. Only for her.
She lifted her hand. “Touch me.”
Colin lay down, gathering Ryrie into his arms, groaning. He leaned down and sought her lips, his tongue mating and licking with hers. She whimpered deep in her throat. His hands circled her shoulder, drawing down
to her breasts as his lips trailed over jawline and over her neck.
“God, you smell of cinnamon and I am drowning in it,” he whispered.
“Colin… please.” She brought her hands up to hold his shoulders, unconsciously pulling him closer as his mouth trailed down to her breast, closing over one rosy nipple. She gasped, arching at the intensity of warmth spreading throughout her body, floating on an upward spiral of fire, ablaze within his tongue licking her.
He pushed the limits of her tolerance with his seductive mouth, firing her into a deeper flame. He laved each nipple with care, scraping the tip to the roof of his mouth, and then flicking it with his tongue.
Her hands threaded through his hair, holding him to her. “More, please.” She moved her head from side to side. A pulse pushed deep between her legs and her hips arched closer, wanting more.
Colin gave a guttural growl, moving to settle over Ryrie, his knees pushing her legs open to accommodate his large, muscled body, his hands flat against the bed.
“‘Tis you, sweetness, you are perfect in every way.” The tip of his arousal brushed against her.
His long hair grazed her shoulders as he loomed over. “Fill me, Colin.”
His eyes darkened, and he slid forward, meeting the resistance of her body. He shook hard. “Ryrie… oh god…” he croaked closing his eyes.
“I’m yours, Colin… yours.”
****
He moved his hips, claiming her body, filling the woman of his heart and tearing down every wall into a soothing shake of sweet penitence. Something he never thought to receive. Ryrie’s purity gave him restoration, sanctifying the pain of his lost spirit.
“You are mine. All mine, sweetness.”
Ryrie cried out as her maidenhead gave way to sheath Colin, but he held her. Waiting patiently for her to adjust.
Emotions surged with a hot force.
She reached up to caress his face. “Show me heaven.”
Colin moved within her, his blood roaring in the fine chiffon delight of her body. She brought her knees up, allowing him deeper access to his penetrating pace. He claimed her with every thrust of his hips. She cried out, clutching him, holding him tight.
He shattered, roaring his release, but still Colin tirelessly moved to climb a higher manifestation of pleasure. He shaped her body to meet his every demand. He coursed over Ryrie’s supple responses, taking her through his deliverance by yet another storm.
“Come with me sweetness,” he growled. “Let me take you higher.”
She panted, raising her hips to meet his. “Yes... more, Colin. Always more.”
Climaxing a second time, he collapsed to the side, pulling Ryrie’s body up and over his chest, their breaths mingling. Colin brought his hand up, sinking it into Ryrie’s midnight hair, and then caressed her cheek. He pulled her mouth up to brush his lips across hers, suckling her tongue in a long, drugging kiss.
“You are forever mine, sweetness,” he whispered.
“Finally,” she murmured, kissing his chest, laying her cheek against him.
He smiled against her forehead.
They both yielded to the tranquil lure of sleep’s peaceful embrace.
Vindication released. Atonement achieved.
****
Sometime later before the sun rose, Ryrie lay across Colin’s chest, rubbing her cheek against the warmth of his skin. His chest hair tickled her cheek, his hand caressing down her back… up and down, making her shiver. She never imagined a pleasure so wonderful. So perfect. So heavenly. She should be shamed because she was not married, but this was Colin and her dream. That was enough justification for her.
“Colin?”
“Yes, sweetness?”
Ryrie rose up, peering down into his handsome face, and he gave her a lazy smile. Maybe it was too late to feel embarrassment, but she flushed. “I… well…”
His smile turned into a full-fledged grin. “You cannot be shy now. Tell me.” He cupped her face, thumbing her bottom lip.
She blushed despite the fact she was lying naked across her lover’s chest, having thoroughly been bedded by him. “Earlier… you mentioned being loved by your tongue. What exactly did you mean by that?” Her cheeks flamed hot.
A warm hum of laughter rattled his chest, and he hugged her close. After a moment, he swooped in to kiss her hard on the lips. Before she could respond, he rolled her over and licked his tongue over her lips. “Mmmm, you taste wonderful. And you will be the death of me, Ryrie love,” he groaned, pushing his hard shaft against her thigh for a direct meaning.
She lifted an elegant black brow. “Does that mean you are going to show me?”
His blue eyes grew heated, his smiled faded. “Of course. I just have to start at the top and… work my way down,” he breathed lightly, running a feather light hand down over her body, cupping her between the legs.
Ryrie’s violet eyes widened and her breath caught. “Oh God,” she whispered, her heart pounding against her ribs. “That far?” she managed to croak out. His meaning clear, but she wanted precise… sensual understanding.
“All the way.”
She gasped as he made initial tongue contact with her neck, and his hand cupped her breast, scalding her nipple with his thumb and forefinger. He drew her into another fire. She tingled as his lips blazed down her neck, over her collarbone, and down to her breasts.
“Colin.” She arched upward, dying and pleasured all at once.
He blew on her nipple. “I am right here, sweetness.” He shaped her both nipples with his hands.
There was nothing in her mind but him, and she smoothed her hands up over his shoulders until her they sank into his hair. She held him close, arching into his mouth as he lapped her mindless with every flick of his tongue. “Please,” she begged, arching hard into him.
Releasing her nipple gently through his teeth, he stared at her through heavy-lidded eyes. “There is so... much more.”
“Please.”
Colin moved lower, his lips skimming over her belly, and then dipping into the hollow of her stomach. He never stopped, never slowed. He sank lower and her legs parted under his questing lips, his tongue swirling through her midnight curls.
Ryrie shook hard, gasping. “Colin?” Her sensitive skin stung with heavy need, blistering to the point of anarchy.
“Absorb the pleasure, sweetness... feel it.”
Colin lowered his mouth, holding her hips as Ryrie jolted under the first lick of his tongue. He laved her with slow strokes, smoothing his hands over her withering hips.
It was an intimacy she never imagined. Pleasure built, and her veins were blazing. She moaned against the intensity of his mouth, undone by the fast flicker of his tongue, and she sank her hand into his hair.
“Colin,” she breathed, nearly choking in her throat as an unstoppable wave shook her. She was not her own—but her long lost warrior’s.
He moved quickly up and over her, sheathing himself before the last strains of her release drained from her body. Colin gasped as she moved against him. “Ryrie... God!”
She panted hard, pulling at his shoulders, waist, and hips— everywhere. She screamed her pleasure until he filled her mouth with his tongue. Ryrie tasted herself and him. Everything all at once. She floated far above reality into sweet pleasure. Their mouths chased and their throats sang with moans until their bodies hit release.
Neither regretted a moment.
****
The sun was within minutes of rising as Colin took Ryrie back to the main keep hand in hand without being seen. They first stopped in the garden before parting, and his arms wrapped around her, holding her close to his body.
“I miss you already,” she whispered, rubbing her cheek up against the new growth of his bearded cheek, her lips scraping lightly over the stubbly surface. “My heart feels inconsolable.”
Colin chuckled, pulling back to look into her violet eyes. “Sweetness, we will see each other later today, I promise.” He caressed his hand down her cheek
. “I always keep my promises,” he breathed against her lips before pulling back. “May I ask one favor, my lady, please?”
Ryrie full lips lifted in a dazzling smile. “For you, anything.”
She would certainly be the death of him. Her smile alone parted the waters of sanity, and divided rational thought. “I will come to you tonight. Please do not return to the Elite headquarters of uncertainty,” he said dryly, but he was indeed serious.
Ryrie’s shoulders shook with laughter. “I promise, but do not take too long. I am impatient for you already.” She leaned up to kiss him quickly and swung away from him, taking several steps away.
Panic hit him. A surge of anxiety went through him laced with acute pain. “Ryrie!”
She peered back over her shoulder, smiling. “Yes?”
Colin smiled, shaking his head in wonder. What he wanted to say would not exit his lips the way his heart felt it. He only managed to say, “Take care, sweetness.”
Ryrie blew him a kiss with her hand, and then she was gone.
Colin realized that at that moment what he ached to say: I love you. He nearly fell to his knees.
The long lost soldier who had traveled a path of self-destruction, who pursued a wrongful vendetta, and who lost his whole family for the sake of stupidity, found purity within his broken heart. All for a woman that smelled of cinnamon with midnight hair, and beautiful violet eyes.
Never in his whole life had he received the affection or emotion anywhere close to what he felt for Ryrie. In his darkest hour, he bled tears of remorse for all his actions, but in one day of being within her serene grace, sensuous touch, and refined presence, his whole existence changed.
He was no longer lost—no longer degraded or abased.
For the first time in his life, he loved.
Chapter 9
Simon waited for Ryrie as she exited the keep for the last day of the tournament. She chose to wear a cream colored, silk gown with wide bell sleeves and a cream velvet overdress with heavy gold embroidery and a demi train. Ryrie’s midnight hair fell over her shoulder in a thick braid with golden beads interwoven throughout and a gold circlet on her brow.
