Bound to the Wolf Prince by Marguerite Kaye Read Free Book Online Page B

Eoin roared.
    Too late. Freya wrenched herself free and toppled backwards. In the process of catching her, Eoin lost his balance and they tumbled together into the largest of the hot pools.
    Freya clung frantically to Eoin as the warm water enveloped them. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, and as they rose to the surface, holding each other still, he could feel her nipples hardening. It made his gut contract. Pink mouth. Flushed cheeks. Her breasts were full, her nipples darkly inviting peaks. He trailed his fingers over the outer curve of them, down to her waist, over the sweet roundness of her hip. He could see his desire reflected in her eyes, along with his shock. For a timeless moment they gazed into each other’s eyes, poised upon the brink of a precipice. Then he captured her mouth, and kissed her deeply.
    He kissed her. Her eyelids. Her cheeks. Her mouth again. She kissed him back, her tongue tangling with his, her arms, her legs, tangling with his body, clinging, so sweetly clinging. He was so hard, yet he thought he might melt with desire.
    Freya whimpered. The silken water, the heat of Eoin’s skin, the plucking, pulsing of his kisses, the balmy mist which surrounded the pool, all melded into one. She was aflame with desire. Like the time after the Claiming ceremony, only more. She was a clock spring, wound too tight. Eoin clutched at her bottom. He braced her against the mossy bark of a fallen tree. Her gown floated around her in the water, mingling with his plaid. His kisses drugged her. Steam rose from their skin as they kissed. It merged with the steam from the pools and the salty perfume of desire which overlaid the heady scent of the flowers.
    She could feel his manhood pressing against her. She wanted, as she had never wanted anything in her life, for him to enter her. To join with her. Her body arched and thrust itself at him, bold with yearning. He bent his head and sucked her nipples through the soaking fabric of her gown. Sweetness eddied through her veins. She was afraid again, but this time she fought it. Up. Up. Up. She climbed as he kissed her nipples into aching peaks. Up. Dizzy with it. “Eoin. Eoin.” His name was a plea.
    For a moment, she thought he would answer her. He groaned. Then, unbelievably, he let her go. “What am I thinking of?” he said hoarsely. He lifted her bodily onto the shore where she stood dripping water, looking like a landed mermaid. He hauled himself out, tearing his eyes away from the enticing vision of the soaking robe clinging to her curves.

Chapter 5
    Cold. She was absolutely freezing. As if she had been swimming in melted snow. Freya’s teeth began to chatter. “What was I thinking of?” Freya riposted, shocked and hurt.
    â€œI suppose you’ll blame the effects of the poison this time,” Eoin said bitterly. He wanted to shake her. He wanted to kiss her. What he should be wanting was rid of her. He didn’t like the way she rippled the placid waters of his life, the way she made him want her. Need her. He didn’t need anyone! And he certainly didn’t like the little voice in his head that was telling him she was the thing that was missing from his life.
    â€œIt’s not the plant. It’s you. It must be you,” Freya said, struggling to assemble her thoughts into some coherence. “It’s the way you look at me. Mesmerising. You make me…”
    â€œI don’t make you do anything! I’m not casting spells or employing Faol magic,” Eoin said angrily. “It’s got nothing to do with my being Faol, any more than it’s to do with you being an heiress. Whatever it is, we’re creating it.”
    Were they? Freya eyed Eoin in complete confusion. Eoin made her feel real. He made her feel lots of things she’d never felt before but it was safer to believethat it was the Faol world, that it was Kentarra and the Faol ways, because if it was not—no! Don’t