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would go then he stilled, allowing her body to

adjust around him.

“It didn’t hurt,” she said.

45

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

“I would never hurt you, milady,” he said.

He waited until she moved her tight ass before he eased out of her a little then

drove back in slowly. His jaw was clamped tightly shut to control the urge to pound

into her, to relieve the hot ache, the brutal tension that was racking his body.

“I love you,” she said.

It was those three little words—words he had never expected to hear ever said to

him—that were Bevyn Coure’s undoing. He lost all sense of gentleness and what little

restraint he had.

“Put your legs around me,” he grated out between clenched teeth. “Lock your heels

together.”

She didn’t question his instructions but lifted her legs and clamped them around

his waist, her eyes going wide at the exquisite pleasure that brought between her legs.

He was so big, so full inside her, yet as he began pumping into her, there was no

discomfort, only the most delicious sensation that caused her nails to arch and dig into

his back.

He knew she had meant the words she had spoken to him. He had already seen the

growing affection for him in her mind, but to know she trusted him, wanted him, ached

for him as he did for her was a glorious feeling that flooded his entire being. His

thrusting sped up, went deeper, until they were both grunting and striving for that

culmination he was gods-be-damned sure might well blow the top of his fucking head

off.

Lea was clinging to him, riding out the storm of passion that had erupted from his

body. His fingers were digging into the soft flesh of her rump as he pistoned his hard,

full cock in and out of her with meaty slaps that might have been funny to hear if it

weren’t so sensual. At the moment she felt the first squeeze of her vaginal muscles

around his cock, she tightened her hold on his waist and arched closer to him, wanting

every inch, every hard pounding inch striving to touch her womb.

Bevyn came with a deafening roar that by rights should have cracked the fragile

glass chimney of the hurricane lamp sitting on the bedside table. He threw his head

back and howled his release, pumping into her as hard and as long as he could until the

very last spurt of his cum was free. Beneath him, the bed shook, the headboard

pounding the wall until a shower of plaster fell down upon his naked back from the

ceiling.

Lea was lost in her own release, trilling like a song bird as her orgasm ripped

through her lower body and up into her belly. Her thighs were like vises around his

hips and one heel was digging into the crack of his ass as she clung to him. With the last

little ripple echoing away, she collapsed like a broken toy, arms and legs splayed like

the wanton she felt.

“By the gods,” Bevyn whispered as every muscle in his body began quivering. He

was shaking as he rolled off her, the heat from their bodies, the sweat that heat had

generated cooling under contact with the cool air flowing through the room.

46

Her Reaper’s Arms

Never, he thought, had he known such ecstasy could be found in the silken arms of

a woman. Never, he knew, would he ever seek that release again from any other. This

woman whose body lay alongside his, whose breath was rushing in and out of her

lungs as tautly as his own, whose heart was thundering in tandem with his, would be

the only pleasure he would ever know this side of paradise. With the last ounce of his

strength, he eased his hand to hers and entwined their fingers.

“Tá grá agam duit, a ghrá mo chroi,” he said in his native language, but there was no

need to translate. He knew she had gleaned his meaning but he did it anyway. “I love

you, my darling.”

She turned to face him, her body slick with their combined sweat. “You’d better,

Reaper,” she said. “I am the only woman you’re ever gonna have.”

Bevyn smiled for he knew she did not understand that her words were as true as

any she would ever speak. Not only because he had lost his heart to her—and thought

perhaps he had that first night—but because the Triune Goddess had made it a Geas, an

unbreakable prohibition from ever lying with another woman and taking her body with

his once a Reaper had claimed his eternal mate.

Lea watched him close his eyes and knew he had worn himself out, first with the

crying and now with the loving. He might be a fierce warrior, a savage Reaper, but he—

after all—was a man and he was tired. He did what all men do after an intense bout of

sex—he fell asleep.

She smiled. How easy it was for him, she thought, to just close his beautiful eyes

and fall into a deep slumber. Snuggling up to him, she laid her arm protectively across

his belly and held him, shutting her eyes to that marvelous piece of flesh crooked at his

thigh that had satisfied them both so well.

She had no way of knowing that such easy slumber was as strange and unknown to

Bevyn Coure as the love she was so willingly bestowing upon him.

47

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Chapter Four

“What will we do today?” he asked from the bed as he watched her looking around

for her clothing.

“Have you seen my dress?” she asked, bending down to look under the bed,

though how her clothing could have gotten there was a mystery.

“After a hearty breakfast of course,” he amended.

She was standing there at the foot of the bed as naked as the day she was born with

her hands on her hips, a frown marring the perfection of her lovely features. When he

didn’t respond to her question, she gave him an arched brow. “Where are my clothes?”

she asked.

He was lying there with his hands behind his head, his legs crossed at the ankle, as

completely unconcerned about his nakedness as if he’d been alone. He cocked one

shoulder. “How would I know, wench?” he asked. “Where did you last see

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