That was what he wanted to see—her straight white teeth flashing in a happy smile, desire heating her eyes as he knelt on the bed and lowered his body atop hers.
“Mmm. I love to feel your weight on me,” she murmured, spreading her thighs to make room for him and wrapping her arms around him. Leaning up, she gave his ear a little nip with her teeth. “The only thing I like better is feeling you inside me.” Sliding her hands down his back, she gripped his backside, arched up against him, and ground her core against his arousal.
Robert groaned as he reclaimed her lips. Cupping one breast, he thrust against her as he pinched the rigid tip through the slick black fabric that covered it, eliciting a moan. “How do I get this off of you?” he growled, plucking at the bra.
She laughed. “I thought you liked it.”
“Not when it keeps me from tasting you.”
Eyes darkening, she thrust her breasts up against his chest and reached behind her back. The fabric loosened.
Robert tucked a finger between her breasts and tugged the bra off, tossing it over his shoulder. Before she could wrap her arms round him again, he reared back and knelt between her thighs.
A few deft pulls, and the black panties joined her bra on the floor.
For a long moment, he just stared at her, his breath coming more quickly with every moment that passed.
She swallowed and spoke in a hushed voice, thick with need. “How can you make me burn with just a look?”
Lightly grasping her ankles, he slid his hands up her calves, over her knees, and along her thighs until his thumbs reached the dark triangle of curls that tempted him so.
She gasped as he toyed with the hidden nub of her arousal. “What are you waiting for?”
He smiled. “Just deciding how I want to take you.”
“Fast and hard,” she responded instantly, shifting her legs restlessly and arching into his touch. “Take me now. Fast and hard.” She moaned. “Then you can do anything you want to me.”
The flames burned brighter. “Anything?” he pressed, teasing her with a flick of his fingers.
Again she moaned. “Hell, yes.”
Eager to comply, Robert did as she wished and took her fast and hard.
Then, endeavoring to pour a lifetime of passion into the brief time allotted them, he spent hour upon hour making love to her, exploring new ways to bring her pleasure, keeping her so sated and exhausted they did not leave the solar for two days.
How he loved her.
He knew not how he would survive losing her.
Chapter Eighteen
Beth smiled. What a glorious day.
A sennight had passed since the wedding. Alyssa and Dillon remained at Fosterly with their adorable son, waiting to see if the enigmatic Seth would respond to her summons.
Beth thought little Ian was currently napping upstairs somewhere, exhausted after another mock sword fight with Sir Stephen. Alyssa had disappeared into the garden with Maude, intent on propagating plants or transplanting them or something along those lines. Shortly thereafter, Robert and Dillon had sequestered themselves in the solar to go over the books.
Beth wasn’t sure what exactly going over the books entailed, but had decided training with the squires would be much more amusing. And, as luck would have it, it had taken little effort to coax Marcus into being her sparring partner.
Though a blindingly bright sun dominated the sky, for once Beth didn’t worry about sunburning. Virtually every inch of her skin was covered.
As in the other days she had trained, she wore a shirt, braies, and tunic like the boys alongside whom she fought. Robert had ordered the armorer to craft special chainmail for her. Until then, she wore a leather hauberk and thickly padded gambeson he had insisted upon when bruises from her initial training sessions had begun to manifest themselves in large numbers and an increasing variety of hues.
On her head she wore a helmet she absolutely detested. It was hot and uncomfortable and reduced visibility. But again, Robert had insisted. He had wanted her to wear mailed mitts, too, but she had talked him down to leather gloves that were more comfortable and provided ample protection from blunted swords.
Sweat trickled down between her breasts as she blocked the powerful swing of Marcus’s sword and countered with one of her own. She had made excellent progress, in her opinion, but thought Faudron would die before admitting it. Years of jogging, kickboxing aerobics, and tae kwon do lessons had given her strength, agility, and an excellent sense of balance. Even Dillon had commended her for her growing sword-fighting skills, imparting some instruction of his own.