She did not even bother to argue that, at least to the monks, the monastery had been a church, too. But there was no use splitting hairs.
Linley was relentless with her stroking. She watched as Patrick quit fighting her and closed his eyes. Tipped his head back. Parted his mouth.
And just when she knew he was close, she dropped her hand.
Patrick’s eyes shot open.
Linley smiled. “I think we can both agree I am going to get what I want.”
“I feel like a cad to want you so badly after your illness,” He rolled her onto her back, hiking her nightshirt up to her waist. “But I promise I will be gentle.”
“I don’t want gentle,” she said. “I just want you.”
Linley wrapped her legs around him, hardly giving Patrick time to pull his pajamas down.
“I’ve missed you,” he said as he pushed into her. “God, I’ve missed you.”
His hands and his mouth were all over her, sometimes feather-soft, sometimes with enough force to make her hiss.
They clung to each other, demanding. Urgent. Insistent. Full of weeks worth of pent up frustrations, longing, and heedless desperation.
Linley clasped his bare buttocks, raking her nails across them, grabbing entire handfuls of the soft, white skin. She clutched him tight between her legs, grinding him against her.
But that wasn’t good enough.
She pulled her nightgown over her head, not caring if he saw her bones jutting out of her parchment skin. Or the bruises. He had seen it all before, no doubt, and she wanted to be as close to him as two people could get.
Common sense told them to keep their clothes on—especially with nothing but a screened door separating them from anyone who happened to pass by—but Patrick shucked himself out of the thin, cotton pajamas without a second thought.
He came back to her, grabbing her ankles and placing them up on his shoulders. Leaning down, he pressed Linley’s knees far, far back. She lay folded up beneath him, and Patrick drove himself into her. He withdrew once again, and then drove in.
He pushed his weight down upon her. He pounded her so hard the bed pitched, and rolled, and slapped against the wall. Really, he ought to have been more gentle, but he could not control himself.
Linley didn’t seem to mind. She threaded her fingers through his hair, clawed his scalp. Moaned every time he went in up to the hilt. Cooed, and purred, and bit down hard against his shoulder.
They were lovers. She hadn’t made it up, after all. She hadn’t imagined it in a fit of feverish longing. Patrick was hers for as long as she would have him. And she would have him, and have him, and have him.
“Oh, God, Patrick.” She kissed him all over his face, tasting the beads of sweat that gathered at his temples and ran down his jawline. He ground into her, bucking his hips and sending her head smacking into the headboard. Linley clawed at the metal bars, grasping them between her hands. She thought he would tear her apart. “Oh, God, Patrick. Oh, God. Oh, God.”
“Hush. Be quiet,” he gasped against her neck. “If you don’t, I’m going to stop.”
“No. No. No! I’ll be good! I’ll be—”
She bit her lips to keep her mouth shut. Between the bed creaking and their sweaty bodies slapping, she knew they were too loud. Anyone could hear them. And through the screened door, anyone could see them.
But no one walked by.
Patrick thrust on, grunting and incoherent. Linley lay folded beneath him, her head thrashing. Her eyes were clamped shut. Her face twisted with pleasure.
“I’m going to…” She moaned. “I’m definitely going to…”
And then she came. Her entire body rocked, nearly throwing Patrick off of her. He held on tight, fisting the bed sheets, letting her have every bit of the pleasure she deserved.
He lay still until her pulsing eased and her eyelashes fluttered open. Her wide eyes swam in their sockets, and as she blinked, tears gathered in their corners. Linley pried her fingers from around the metal headboard rails and ran them up and down Patrick’s back.
Every muscle was taught, strung as tight as bowstrings while he held himself back for her. His arms shook. His jaw trembled. He needed his release just as badly as Linley had needed hers.
Slowly, he began to move inside her.
She was slick and wet after her climax, and Patrick glided in and out of her body with little effort. Linley purred in his ear. Moaned. Whispered inaudible words to him as his body sailed within hers.
She lived for this, he knew.
And Patrick lived for it, too.
He had been so afraid for so long—afraid to have her, afraid to lose her. But there was no fear now, only an almost unrecognizable joy.