If He's Tempted (Wherlocke #5)

Brant set her on her feet, stood up, and grasped her by the hand. Olympia hesitated for only a heartbeat or two before leading him to her bedchamber. Her heart pounded with pure anticipation not fear. She wanted this. Wanted him.

She turned to face him when they entered her room and he shut the door behind them, about to make her confession about her son, only to have him silence her with a kiss. Olympia held onto him as he slowly nudged her along, never ending the kiss until the back of her legs touched the edge of the bed. The warm brush of his long fingers against her skin was the only warning she had that he was removing her gown. She had never been naked in front of a man before and a sudden flush of embarrassment attempted to destroy the pleasure she was caught up in. Brant lightly nipped the side of her neck as he tugged her gown off her body, but the first touch of his lightly calloused hands upon the skin of her upper arms was enough to push aside that newly born unease.

There was a hunger in Brant, in his every touch and his kiss, that rapidly invaded Olympia’s body. Soon the fact that he was removing all of her clothing with a swift skill did not trouble her. She began to remove his with an equal speed, if not with the same skill. Even the awkward moment when they had to part, their bodies no longer touching, so that he could tug off his boots did not cool the fever they shared.

When they were both finally naked, Olympia was so fascinated with Brant’s tall, lean body, she took little notice of how she ended up sprawled on the bed with him crouched over her. He was all honey-colored skin stretched tautly over hard muscle. His chest was broad and smooth, a small triangle of hair in the middle and a thin line of hair beginning beneath his navel, leading to a tidy nest of hair at his groin. She was pleased when the hard length of him that rose up from that nest did not stir her fear. She was just placing her hands upon his chest, delighting in the heat of his skin and the feel of him beneath her palms, when she became aware of how intently he was staring at her stomach. Then he lightly traced each faint line that bracketed her womb. When he looked up at her it was with a slight frown of confusion. There was no hint of anger or disgust and the fear that had begun to build in her heart rapidly faded away.

“Olympia?” He traced each small line again, certain they were the scars of a woman who had borne a child.

“Could we discuss that later?” She slid one hand down his chest and lightly grasped his erection, pleased to find that the discovery that she had borne a child had not dimmed his hunger for her at all.

Brant nearly gasped aloud at the strength of the pleasure that tore through him when she curled those soft, long fingers around him. “Yes. Later would be fine.”

Brant was not sure how long he could wait before burying himself deep inside her. He wanted to go slowly, to touch her soft skin, linger over those beautiful rose-tipped breasts and slowly explore with kisses and caresses every hollow and rise of her exquisite form. His passion was running too hot and he did not know how to cool it, however. The way she had spoken of her marriage at such a young age told him there was a lot more to it than she was telling him, although the little she had said had chilled him. She was a woman who needed to be loved slowly, shown how good true, tender desire could be between a man and a woman. Yet, with each touch of her hands, the feel of her soft curves pressed close to him, he had to struggle hard for control.

Olympia was both astonished and a little afraid of how Brant was making her feel. She was trembling with need for him, her blood running so hot in her veins she was surprised she was not sweating. The way the warmth of his skin seeped into her, the roughness of the hair on his legs as they brushed against hers, and the touch of his lightly calloused hands on her breasts as he stroked them had her nearly panting. When he licked the aching tip of one breast she gasped from the flare of heat that shot through her body. When he took the hard, aching tip of that breast into his mouth and sucked she did cry out and thrust her hands through his hair to hold him close.

The wild desire racing through her was nearly too much for her to bear. There was a loss of control to it all that caused the faintest hint of resistance to bubble up through the passion that had seized her. She was ready to push him away, just enough so that she could calm herself, slow it all down just a little, when he slid his hand down over her stomach and between her legs. The touch of his hand was enough to shred that small resistance.