The Librarian's Spell Patricia Rice (top 100 novels .txt) 📖

inexpert best to offer him the same pleasures. Lydia filled his vision, his thoughts, and his hands. His desire to claim her extinguished all other considerations. He rubbed his erection against her drawers, increasing the pressure, and her feminine moan was sweet music to his ears.

She wasn’t delicate, so he didn’t need to feel like a rutting bull on top of her. Still, once he’d wrestled her down to her drawers, he slid to one side so his weight wasn’t too suffocating. Her sighs as he lapped at her extended—rosy pink—nipples engorged him to the extent that he had to undo his trousers. He retained enough sense to know he should go slow with a virgin, but he could smell her desire, feel her moisture as he rubbed between her thighs. Everything male in him reacted when her hips rose into his questing hands. He slid a finger inside to calm her while he continued their head-spinning kisses.

She went still at the invasion, but he’d learned a thing or three about the female body over the years. He tickled the nub of her sex, inserted another finger, and she was writhing with willingness in seconds. With gratitude that this desirable woman wanted this as much as he did, Max slid down her drawers.

She dug her fingers into his shoulders and kissed him fiercely. He gloried in her physical response. His Juno was no shrinking violet, but a woman with needs as strong as his own. Reassured, he shoved off his trousers. He wasn’t wearing drawers.

Kissing, stroking, he parted her beautiful thighs, answering another of his questions—her moist hair was a darker red in this place untouched by sunshine.

“I vow to take thee in love, honor, and equality.” He murmured the wedding vows as he positioned himself.

“Love?” she murmured weakly, before crying out as he pushed his cock into her narrow passage.

He’d said love. He’d never said that before. It was probably just his lust speaking.

Beyond words now, Max drank of Lydia’s strawberry-scented lips, stroked her incredible breasts, and ripped past the barrier of her maidenhood. She was his now, now and forever.

The realization momentarily scared him, but his animal body didn’t care. He drove deeper.

She bit his shoulder as he drove her to the heights of ecstasy, moaning and writhing. She was already on the brink of release. He need only. . . touch her. Her climax fed his, and he lost his mind to bliss.

Later, when he regained consciousness, Max held her shuddering and weeping into his shoulder and contemplated the enormity of this commitment.

He would not see Burma anytime soon. He had to fix a tower, win back his father’s estate, and if he planted a child in these next few weeks, he’d have to linger to see it born. After that. . .

Lydia might be glad to see the back of him.

Nineteen

Lydia woke with the dawn, as always. A man’s naked body lay sprawled half on top of her, his weight crushing her into the mattress.

Max. She rather enjoyed the intimacy of male flesh on hers.

Will she, nil she, she was married. Well, she hadn’t repeated the vows, but she’d behaved as if she had, and now a child might come of it. So, yes, she was very married in her own mind. She’d chosen this uncivilized heathen as her mate for life. . .

Because his mother had said they were fated. That part didn’t make a great deal of sense, but the physical part. . . Yes, that made good sense. She’d never felt better. Well, she was sore, but she was curious and interested in exploring more. Her breasts seemed to swell with the need to be touched. She thought the manly part stiffening against her thigh might indicate Max was interested as well.

The tower rumbled as if it had just awakened too.

Max grumbled into her shoulder, kissed her cheek, and pried himself out of the pillow. “Thunder?”

Lydia gestured at the window. “No clouds. The tower.”

“Cripes.” He nibbled her shoulder and caressed her hair over her breast. “You are my sunshine, but I fear the tower is my mistress for now. I’m ordering the bricks. We’ll figure out how to pay for them later.”

“Such a romantic,” she whispered, daring to caress his broad chest. How extremely odd that she felt comfortable doing this, as if he’d always been in her bed. Is that what his mother had seen? That their souls were somehow connected? Or their bodies, anyway.

“I’ve never had to romance a woman, just swive them.” He leered down at her, rolling over her so his swelling sword pushed at the sore place between her legs. “And as much as I would like to repeat last night, I will respect your ravaged virtue. Will you allow me to come to your bed again tonight?”

“Could I stop you?” she asked with interest, lifting her hips to indicate a little soreness might be healed easily.

“No,” he answered succinctly, accepting her invitation.

Lydia closed her eyes and succumbed to the bliss of his powerful thrusts. He was a big man and filled her in ways she had never dreamed. She bit back her screams as he plunged deeper than he had the night before, igniting an explosion that rattled her more thoroughly than the trembling tower.

His muscled arms strained on either side of her head as he spilled deep inside her, shuddering with the power of his release. They both muffled their cries. They would need to move to the tower tonight, and send Lloyd and Bakari elsewhere. She wanted the freedom to explore this new adventure without condemnation from anyone overhearing them.

“Magical,” he grunted, collapsing on top of her. “I should have sought a Malcolm sooner. I will never want another woman again.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean other women won’t want you,” she warned. But his words warmed her as much as his body did, even if she knew this wasn’t a promise, just a wish.

The shuddering tower shook them awake again. This time, Max sprang out of bed, yanking on his trousers and shirt