guiding him inside without hesitation. The swift shock of their joining ripped a cry from them both.
He sank his head into the loamy earth, thrusting his hips. Pleasure tensed his muscles but melted his bones. He gloried in the slippery heat of her sex. Every sliding plunge jammed bright sensation into his brain, setting his skin alight. He found no breath, only a choking hunger for more. More.
Opening his eyes—when had he closed them?—Will clasped the back of her neck and dragged her down for another stinging kiss. She tasted of salt and sugar, both. Her tongue swirled over his, fighting for control. Unappeased passion made him rough, and he indulged in his dark violence. He pushed his mouth against her neck and kissed, bit, sucked. He tightened restless fingers into her hair and tugged. She hissed, arching, crushing ripe breasts to his chest.
The fabric of her bodice frustrated him. He groaned, wanting her breasts stripped bare, her stiff nipples pushed against his skin. The thought rocked his tenuous self-control. He wanted her naked, but the fervor of their coupling demanded release, not delays.
She grabbed his hips and urged him to take more, give more. Her rasping moans patterned the air with a cadence to match their slapping bodies. She cried out and threw her head back. Eyes clenched, her face melted into a picture of happy agony. The muscles of her sex clamped around his aching flesh. Her slick sheath became tighter still.
Doubling the speed of his hips, Will pumped into her hot softness. He dug his fingers into her backside. Pain ricocheted from his wounded shoulder, but he gripped harder still. His mind spun. And his release, when it came, hit him with the force of a blow.
Lightheaded and spent, Meg struggled to catch her breath. She lay sprawled across Scarlet’s heaving body. Echoes of pleasure pulsed between her thighs. She pressed trembling lips to his neck, his collarbone. He shuddered and closed his arms more tightly across her back. She enjoyed the reaction, both submissive and protective.
She shifted her hips and he slid free. A whimper climbed from her mouth. His withdrawal and her gradual, reluctant return to Earth seemed a reality too terrible to endure.
I’m not ready. Not yet.
She curled around him, resting on his good shoulder. The autumn evening chill was a distant memory. Fires could not match the warmth he stoked in her blood.
“What were you doing to me?” Scarlet’s gravel voice rumbled against her cheek.
“I wanted to know how you look.”
“Why? You’re blind.”
“And?”
“Why would a blind woman need to know a man’s appearance?”
His condescending tone froze her from the inside out. She straightened and put a sliver of distance between them, shivering. “I didn’t say I needed to. I wanted to.”
“And what if your search revealed that I have pox scars, no hair, and a single tooth?”
“I wouldn’t have kissed you.”
“You find me attractive.”
The base truth of her actions left her vulnerable and stripped. He could have been anyone—any man with half an interest in her body, any man with a body she found exciting. The extent of her eager desperation made her nauseous. But she could not bear his conceit.
“You portray my curiosity like an absurdity, but you lie there and watch me.”
“But why do it in my sleep? Without my permission?”
“Because taking is more enjoyable than asking.”
Scarlet tensed, his breath rasping. “I’m certain those men on the road thought the same of your struggles.”
She licked her lips. “Hardly the same instance.”
“You touched me for your pleasure, without my consent. Explain the difference.”
Meg bumbled and bumped against her growing aggravation. They had both enjoyed the unexpected tryst, yet he insisted on reminding her of her sordid behavior. She needed no reminders, but neither would she offer apologies.
“You were asleep.”
He laughed, a warm and throaty chuckle that dove into her