Madeline found herself on a roaring battlefield, ducking whizzing bullets and dodging fleeing soldiers. As the stinging smoke cleared, she spotted a body splayed in the trampled grass.
William.
She ran toward him, screamed his name, but he remained unmoving, bleeding from the chest. She pressed her hands over the bullet wound at his heart, desperate to stymie the blood flow, but the fiery fluid gushed between her fingers unchecked.
“No,” she cried. “Don’t die. Please don’t die!”
With a twitch, Madeline awakened, her heart pounding, her lungs starved for air. It took her several frantic moments to regain her poise and realize it was another dream. But what was William doing on the battlefield? Dying?
She shuddered at the perturbing thought—and seized when a large hand squeezed her hip. There was a heavy arm draped around her body, and a male chest tucked under her cheek. A very naked male chest.
Madeline stifled a groan. She had fallen asleep in the captain’s bed—on the captain. She hadn’t intended to find herself in the compromising position. She’d meant to leave the bed before he’d recovered from his delirium, but her own bones had ached from the fall, and the warmth of the mattress, the man’s flesh had been an irresistible comfort.
Her cheeks burned, but not with shame. The quiet intimacy suited her after such a night terror, and she longed to remain in the harmonious moment. But the captain had also threatened to throw her in the brig if he ever found her in his cabin again, much less his bed, and the harmony between them fractured as she wondered what sort of mood he was in—benevolent or punishing.
She turned her head and peeked at him, meeting his smoldering gaze, and another shudder wracked her body, so sultry and titillating. He sensed it. His arm tightened around her. And his eyes burned ever hotter.
Something had changed between them. She found herself staring into the eyes of a very different man. A man who had lowered his guard. And as she delved into the pools of his beautiful blue irises, a wealth of feeling overwhelmed her, frightened her, even.
“Are you all right?” he asked, voice gravelly with sleep.
“I-I’m fine. I had a nightmare.”
He lifted his other hand and brushed a tousled lock away from her moist brow. “And the fall?”
“Oh, the fall. Yes, I’m all right.”
Madeline uttered a soft squeak as the hand on her hip shifted, covered her rump, and hoisted her up the length of his frame until they were nose to nose . . . lips to lips.
“Tell me the truth, Maddie.”
The truth? The truth about what? That his breath tickled her sensitive skin until she wanted to take his mouth and ravish him? That his hand, still braced on her arse, shot waves of sensual desire through her feverish blood? That her nightmare had opened a new chapter in her life, where she now feared for William’s survival?
There was too much to confess, too much to lose . . . and much to gain with the truth.
But she would give him her truth, she decided at last.
“Touch me, William.”
His breath hitched. “Maddie—”
“I need you. And I think you need me, too.”
As his muscles stiffened in resistance, she stroked his cheek. “For tonight,” she rasped. “Just for tonight.”
Her own muscles firmed with want. And fear. He might still reject her, toss her from the room, but she wanted the hurt in her soul relieved, the loneliness gone—for a while, at least.
He trembled a tense moment longer—then gripped her tresses and pulled her in for a kiss.
When their lips touched, her heart spasmed. His kiss wasn’t punishing, a deterrent to keep her away. For the first time, he’d opened for her, trusted her, and his buss was welcoming, tender, and, oh, so hungry.
Madeline sighed with sweet relief and dropped her own guard. As his fingers grazed the length of her hair and slipped over the knobs of her spine, she shivered, and soon found herself tumbling in bed, being pressed against the mattress.
Her troubles were quickly forgotten as he ministered gentle kisses, pecking her cheeks, her nose before tending to her flushed lips once more. He handled her in a light, even delicate manner. Afraid she’d break in his hold? Or perhaps he just cherished the moment, cherished her?
Her heart jerked. A want filled her. The primal need to be adored, revered. She’d neglected her desires far too long, bound by guilt and regret. But for one night, she would pretend she had no scandalous past, that she was deserving of intimacy. She imagined she was alone in the world with William, the only two creations on earth, joining for the first time. She would not hide her body or mind or soul from him.
As soon as he sensed her submission, he heaved with unfettered emotion—and his kisses turned rich, more sensual and invading, taking everything she offered, and giving much dreamed of pleasure in return. And healing. She hadn’t realized the breadth of her suffering until pure delight swarmed the void in her heart, and she sobbed with joy.
William’s kisses gained ferocity. His fingers curled into her dress, clumping the thin material, yanking it off her shoulders. The linen stretched across her breasts. She heard the fine threads splitting apart before he rent the fabric.
Her heart jumped. She was moist with sweat, covered in quivering gooseflesh. She dragged in a much-needed breath as he broke away from her mouth, his hot lips hungering at her throat and down her breastbone. He bussed her breasts, first one then the other, before he took a nipple into his mouth.
Madeline gasped. Her whole body arched as he sucked her areola, drawing her deeper into his ravenous mouth. She clasped his hair, holding him tighter against her flesh. And when he flicked his tongue across the sensitive nub, she cried “yes,” choking on the word. His tongue circled and laved, provoking more shouts of insatiable longing.
With a guttural growl, he soon settled between her thighs, hooked an arm under her knee—and slipped into her.
Her spine pitched as unhindered arousal coursed through her very marrow. She panted at the full length of him, then moaned, over and over, as he rocked inside her, so slow, like a rhythmic dance. Her quim throbbed for more.
“William,” she cried, bucking her hips. “Harder.”
She clutched his wet backside, lifting her rump, and he grunted with each swift penetration, thrusting deeper still, his every stroke rough yet tender until a savage need pooled within her, demanded gratification, and violent release wracked her bones, her muscles thrumming in ecstasy.
She heard a desperate groan as he orgasmed inside her, and then the world went quiet in the euphoric afterglow of lovemaking.
It was several breathless minutes before he separated from her, sated, and buried his mouth in the crook of her neck. Shaking, she curled into his protective embrace.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Damn, woman.” His thigh anchored between her legs. A finger soon followed, sliding into her still sensitive quim. “I will always give you what you want. Don’t ask me for it. Don’t beg me for it. And don’t ever thank me for it. Do you understand?”
“Aye,” she gasped, holding him for balance, moving her hips to match his seductive undulations.
“Then take,” he said in a harsh, almost angry voice. “Take anything you want from me. Take everything from me, if it pleases you.”
“I will,” she vowed, unsure why he’d made such a sacred offer, but it was clear “just one night” wouldn’t be enough, not for either of them.
Her thoughts in an uproar, she dismissed the confusion and listened to his hypnotic voice resounding in her head: Take anything you want from me. Take everything from me, if it pleases you.
She obeyed. For once. And it was under his devoted, carnal ministrations she orgasmed again—and again—before blissful satisfaction turned into blissful sleep.