Jo set the book aside on her nightstand. She wasn’t particularly tired, but she wasn’t enjoying the story either. It was supposed to be a romance, but the characters seemed lacking somehow. Probably because she kept comparing one of them in particular to Knighton.

Bran.

He’d urged her to call him that, but she couldn’t. At least not out loud. In her mind, she could think of him as Bran. Just as she thought of him in his preferred state of dress—a loose shirt that exposed his neck and pantaloons or breeches that hugged the athletic slope of his hip and backside. It was an incredibly distracting image, particularly when she was supposed to be focused on other matters. Such as teaching his daughter.

She rolled onto her side but didn’t turn down the lamp. In years gone by, she’d wait, nervously, to see if her husband would come to her. He never warned her, just entered her chamber whenever he saw fit. If she had the lamp lit, he invariably turned it down, preferring total darkness when he came to her bed.

How she’d hated those nights.

Stop thinking of him.

She turned her mind back to Bran and instead recalled the feel of his chest beneath her fingertips the other day at the Tower. There’d been a moment when she’d thought he might kiss her again. Which was foolish since they’d been in the middle of a crowded exhibition.

Still, she imagined the sensation—his lips covering hers, their bodies pressed together.

A rap on the door jolted her to a sitting position. No one had ever come to her chamber at this hour. Her first inkling was that it had to be Evie.

Jo climbed out of bed and wrapped a robe around her night rail before padding across the chamber on bare feet.

She opened the door, and her pulse immediately sped. “Knighton.”

He stood just over the threshold, garbed in his usual ensemble, but without any stockings or shoes. His feet were as bare as hers. “Good evening. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“No. Is everything all right?”

His hair was a bit tousled, as if he’d stood outside in a breeze. She saw him on the prow of the ship that had brought him here, his hair wild and his eyes narrowed against the sun. A shiver danced along her spine.

“Yes. Might I come in? I’ve something to discuss with you.”

Alarm overtook the haze of desire that had stolen through her at the sight of him. Was he here to dismiss her? Calling on her at this hour and in her bedchamber seemed…odd. But then she’d well established that Bran was unusual. In fact, she liked that about him.

She peered past him into the corridor. “It’s a bit unseemly.”

His brow furrowed. “No one knows I’m here. Anyway, so much of what I do is unseemly, why should this be different?”

A bubble of laughter formed in her chest, which helped her to relax. After all, she had nothing to fear from him. “Come in.” She opened the door wider, and he stepped inside. Closing the portal behind him, she moved past him. “What did you wish to discuss?”

He moved closer until he stood about a foot from her. It was well within the proximity that triggered the fluttering in her belly. In fact, over the past several days, she’d only to be in the same room with him to experience a pull toward him that bordered on magnetism. This was completely different from when Matthias had come to her room.

His dark gaze settled on hers. “You.”

Her flesh tingled with awareness as it had that night at the ball and again at the Tower. When she’d been certain of his intent—that he wanted her. “Me?” The word came out like a mouse’s squeak.

“More specifically, your inability to have children. Are you certain of that fact?”

She deflated, feeling suddenly worthless again. Maybe this was like Matthias all over again. “Quite.”

He tipped his head to the side, regarding her with skepticism. “Indeed? How can you be certain?”

“I was married for eight years. My husband came to my bed…often.” In the early years. But the frequency of his visits had diminished. He’d been eager to get her with child, desperate even. And when she’d failed, he’d grown angry and bitter, blaming her both for a lack of skill and ability. As a woman, if she couldn’t please him nor give him a child, what point did she have?

Pain shot through her as his taunts and abuse rolled through her brain. She’d pushed them aside for so long.

“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything,” Bran said, drawing her back to the present, away from the self-loathing. “Perhaps you merely need to try with someone else.”

She blinked at him, uncertain she’d heard him correctly. “What are you suggesting?”

“That you invite me into your bed.”

Jo took a step backward even while her body thrummed with want. Her brain, however, railed against the idea. She was an abject failure when it came to womanhood. Surely her husband’s proclivities and her lack of conception proved that.

“No.”

He winced—a very quick tightening of the muscles around his eyes—and if she’d blinked she would’ve missed it. “Is it that you’re still committed to your husband’s memory?”

A dark laugh escaped her. She’d done a very good job of hiding the failure that was her marriage. So much so that people kept wondering if she was still in love with Matthias. She’d never loved him. She’d hoped to, but he’d crushed that on their wedding night. “Definitely not.”

Knighton’s brows had climbed at her reaction and now his gaze flickered with approval. “I see,” he murmured. He moved forward, narrowing the gap between them to what it had been. “So why refuse me? I want you—very much, if truth be told, and I suspect you want me too.”

She did. Also very much. Hell and damnation, this was a terrible tangle. “I can’t. I’m not… You wouldn’t enjoy it.”

His eyes widened briefly before he blinked. Then he stared at her, his lips parting. “I beg your pardon?”

Oh, this was too humiliating. “You need to leave.”

He closed the distance between them and took her hand. He was warm where she was ice cold. “I would too enjoy it.”

She tossed his words back at him. “How can you be certain?”

He raked his gaze over her, lingering on her breasts before skimming the rest of her body and then coming back up to rest on her face. “Because I am.”

“Well, I am not.” She tried to pull her hand free, but he tugged her against him until their chests met. She gasped, and he wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her captive to him.

“You’re trembling,” he said softly, rubbing his thumb along the back of her hand. “Why are you afraid?”

“I’m not afraid.”

“You’re lying. Tell me. Have you any reason not to trust me?”

She didn’t. “It’s too…horrifying.”

“Let me understand. You were married eight years, and you think I wouldn’t enjoy bedding you. That leads me to think your idiot husband said he didn’t enjoy bedding you. There was clearly something wrong with him.”

Nothing he said could’ve been more perfect. Jo let out another laugh, this one loud and sharp. She quickly covered her mouth with her free hand.

Bran’s brow arched. “I’m right, then. See, the problem was him, not you. You are lovely and beautiful, and you make my teeth ache with need.”

His words enflamed her, tempting her to do exactly as he suggested and invite him into her bed. But there had to be a million reasons she shouldn’t. Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—she couldn’t think of one.

For some reason, she told him the truth. “Matthias could barely reach completion. He said it was my fault, that a real woman would satisfy him. It turned out he preferred the company of men—I caught him a few years ago with his lover. He said that was my fault too, that my lack of skill and inability to give him a child had driven him to find solace elsewhere.”

“It’s a very good thing he’s dead.” Bran uttered the words with such chilling menace that Jo shivered. “Everything he ever said to you is a lie.”

God, how she loved his chivalrous defense. It only made her want him more. “But what if it isn’t?”

“It doesn’t seem to be enough for me to tell you that I know. So let me show you.” He let go of her hand and brought his fingertips to her face. He lightly traced her lips with the pad of his thumb and caressed along her jaw. “I’ll ask you again: will you invite me to your bed?”

She should say no, but she was past the point of should and ought. She wanted to believe what he said but knew she needed to experience it for herself.

She slipped her arms around his waist and pressed her body into his. “Yes.”

“Oh, good.”

He lowered his mouth to hers, his hand cupping her face as he kissed her. Softly at first, then more deeply as his tongue delved past her lips and explored her mouth. Thoughts and memories of Matthias drifted away under the onslaught of Bran’s seduction. She gave herself over completely to him.

His hand moved to the back of her head, clasping her to him as he speared into her mouth. The kiss blossomed into something she’d never experienced—it was hot and wet and filled with desperation. She dug her fingers into his lower back.

He steered her sideways and pivoted her until she felt the bed against her backside. He lifted her and set her on the edge, parting her legs so he could stand between them. Her night rail didn’t allow her thighs to completely open, but it was enough that he stood flush with the bed.

Sliding his lips along hers, he moved the kiss to her cheek and jaw, trailing heat to her earlobe and then down along her neck. All this was new territory, her flesh tingling with desire and her core throbbing with need. Not once had she felt this…this lust. Maybe there wasn’t something wrong with her after all.

But just because she felt this way didn’t mean he did.

Except he seemed rather engaged. His hand came up and cupped her breast through her night clothes. Her nipple pulled taut and hard beneath his touch, and she gasped.

He slipped her robe from her shoulders, and it fell down her arms. She pulled them free, and the garment pooled on the bed around her. The neckline of her night rail was rather large, and he tugged it to the side so that he could push her breast up over the edge.

He pulled his head back and looked down at her, his thumb and finger working her nipple into a tight bud. “You’re magnificent,” he whispered, the words dark and harsh, but oh so arousing.

His hand left her, and she gripped his waist again. “Don’t stop.”

Peering down at her, he arched a brow. “You like that?”

She nodded, her throat dry with need.

He fingered the edge of her night rail. “I only wanted to take this off. Is that all right?”

She nodded again as he reached for the hem.

“You’re going to have to lift up.”

Raising her backside, she helped him tug the garment up to her waist. Then he whisked it over her head and tossed it aside.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, putting both of his hands on her. He cupped her, his palms massaging her flesh, sending shards of stark need straight to that core between her legs. “So round and perfect. I have to taste.”

What?

Before she could fully process what he’d said, his mouth was on her breast, wet and searing. She let out a low cry full of surprise and wonder and craving. She squeezed her eyes shut as if she had to shut down at least one of her senses so that she could survive the barrage.

His movements were light at first, his lips and tongue gently working her flesh. Then he took more of her into his mouth, his hand holding the globe captive to his attention. He pulled back and blew on her before suckling her once more. Instinctively, she thrust her hand into his hair and held him to her. He repeated the actions, blowing and sucking, all while his other hand worked the other breast.

The pulsing between her legs amplified, and her breaths came hard and fast.

“See? You’re spectacular.”

His words managed to permeate her thick haze of lust. “Are you…enjoying yourself?” she asked, sounding breathless.

“Immensely. I can’t get enough of you.” As if to punctuate his statement, he moved his mouth to her other breast and took her deep into his mouth, licking and sucking and lightly grazing his teeth along her flesh.

“Bran.”

He pulled back, and she opened her eyes. He stared at her, a half smile curving his lips. “You called me Bran. I hope that means that I may call you Joanna. Mrs. Shaw seems rather formal in this instance.”

She nodded. “But not outside this room.”

“As you command.” He took her hand and pressed it to the front of his pantaloons. “Can you see for yourself that I’m enjoying this?”

His cock was rock-hard. She’d been well acquainted with Matthias’s, though she didn’t think it had ever felt this…substantial. Getting him to full arousal had required a great deal of effort with her hands and mouth, and she’d loathed every minute of it.

She’d expected to flinch upon feeling Bran, but this was already so different from every one of her other experiences. “You’re big.”

He chuckled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Since he’d put her hand there, she had to assume he wanted her to do something. “Do you want to show it to me?”

“In a bit,” he said. “I’ve more fun to have—I’m quite enjoying myself. Are you?”

She nodded, feeling shy. The throbbing between her legs had lessened a bit since he’d stopped touching her.

“You don’t seem entirely convinced. I’ll take it personally if you don’t enjoy the hell out of this.” He lightly pushed her back. “Lie back.”

As she reclined over the mattress, his hands came around her breasts once more, stroking and cupping them and reigniting her need. His hands moved down her stomach, tracing over the plane, making her shiver, until they settled on her hips. He guided her legs apart, and again embarrassment washed over her.

She wouldn’t ask him to stop, however. Not now. Probably not ever.

“Don’t you wish to turn out the light?” She sounded small and tremulous, nervous.

He didn’t stop his movements. “Why would I do that? Then I wouldn’t be able to appreciate your beauty. I want to see every inch of you.” He ran his thumb along the crease between her legs. “Every inch.”

His fingers played with her flesh, teasing and stroking. Any sense of embarrassment fled and was replaced with sheer pleasure and an overwhelming sense of longing. Matthias had barely touched her there, just to find his way inside. It had been enough for her to realize that something could feel good. Maybe. She wasn’t sure. She’d tried touching herself and had felt a mild satisfaction a few times, but this sensation, this incredible arousal, was unlike anything she’d ever known.

Then his finger slipped inside her. She closed her eyes and spread her thighs as wide as they would go, shameless in her need to feel him.

“I think you are enjoying this,” he said, sliding his finger in and out of her wet sheath.

She wanted to move, but Matthias had always told her to lie still. Bran used his other hand to touch the top of her sex, and she couldn’t help her response. She bucked up off the bed, crying out.

“Oh yes, you most definitely are enjoying yourself.” He leaned over her—she could feel him against her sensitized breasts. “And lest you think I’m not, rest assured that I am.” He kissed her, his tongue meeting hers in long, sweeping movements that echoed what he was doing between her legs.

Suddenly, he was gone from her mouth, and she felt wetness against her sex. Her eyes flew open, and she brought her head up to see what he was doing. His head was buried between her legs, his mouth and tongue kissing her there the way he’d done to her mouth.

Oh, this was too much. She fell back against the bed and closed her eyes once more. He took his mouth away, and she whimpered. His finger stroked into her once more as he worked her flesh. Then his mouth was there again, and she was awash in a building need. It was like a storm gathering, the dark clouds heavy with moisture and tumult. She was those clouds, ready to burst, and yet she wasn’t sure she could.

“Come for me.” His husky words rained over her, and she moaned as her muscles began to clench. His fingers pumped harder into her at the same time his mouth suckled that sensitive spot at the top of her sex, and her body simply flowed away from her. Like a ship setting sail that she was powerless to stop.

Deep, mournful cries filled the room, and she’d no idea where they came from. Contractions racked her core as lights flickered behind her eyelids. Pleasure arced through her.

She’d no idea how long she spun through the darkness, but eventually, she came back to herself. Her body was limp and exhausted, but utterly sated. Now she knew. The knowledge stole her breath and pushed emotion into her throat.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly.

She opened her eyes slowly and managed to focus on the canopy. She tipped her head to the side and saw him watching her. He seemed genuinely concerned, his gaze warm and sincere.

“I think so. I’ve never experienced…that.”

“Sex with your husband wasn’t like this.” It wasn’t really a question but a statement. And one coated in disdain at that.

“No. He didn’t do the things you did.”

“Not ever?” Bran shook his head. “Your husband was a fool.”

She considered whether to tell him the truth, but that would be to admit the ultimate shame. “He said it was my fault he didn’t want me. He said I ruined him…for women.” She turned her head away from him and reached for her robe. She felt his hand cover hers.

“Don’t.” He pulled her up to a sitting position and kissed her. His lips tangled with hers in a sweet dance, and she was surprised to feel desire ignite within her once more. He ended the kiss and looked into her eyes. “It wasn’t your fault. He was who he was, and if he didn’t like women, that wasn’t your fault.” He stroked his knuckles along her jawline. “I am desperate to sink into your beautiful sex, but maybe not tonight.”

His words seared into her—the first part. She clutched his shoulders. “Yes, tonight. After that, I want to feel the rest. Please.”

His lips curved into a purely male and rather predatory smile. “If you insist.”

“I do.”

He tugged his shirt off and dropped it to the floor.

She stared at the hard planes of his chest. He was broad and muscular, with small red-brown nipples and a light dusting of brown hair between them. “I’ve never seen a man’s chest before.” She flicked a glance toward his face. “My husband never removed his shirt. So I’ve nothing to compare you to. However, I feel certain other men must be wanting next to you.”

“You are a boon to my pride.” He clasped her hand and pressed it to his chest, laying the palm flat.

She simply felt him for a moment, relishing his heat and hardness. Then she moved it up to trace the hollow of his throat and over along his collarbone, then down to one of those dashing little nipples. “Does this feel the same for you?” She tweaked it lightly. “When you touched me there—” Her breasts felt full and heavy, and heat sparked through her core.

“You liked it.”

“Yes.” She sounded breathless and eager.

“It’s not quite the same, but yes, I like it. I like everything and anything you would want to do to me.”

Her mind flashed to the things Matthias had required her to do. She’d performed them out of duty, but for the first time, she saw the allure of touching a man’s cock. Not just any man, Bran.

She arched a brow at him and scooted forward to the edge of the bed where he stood. “Anything?” She reached for the buttons on his pantaloons and worked them free.

“Joanna. What are you doing?”

“Exploring. You’ve done much to dispel my anxiety and my fears. This is part of that. May I?” She hesitated before slipping her hand into his smallclothes. Only he wasn’t wearing any beneath his pantaloons. This didn’t surprise her given his dislike of most clothing.

He pushed at the garment and wiggled his hips until they fell down his legs, then he kicked them aside. “How’s that?”

She stared at his sex, the length curved up from a nest of dark curls. A bead of moisture perched on the tip. She curled her hand around him and stroked his flesh. She went slowly, taking her time to feel every inch of him.

He reached out and caressed her breast, his touch rekindling her arousal and fueling her hand to move faster. She briefly cupped the heavy sacs at the base before bringing her hand up and sliding it back down then repeating the action several times.

His breathing became louder and his fingers pulled and massaged her nipple, distracting her, but in the most delicious manner. She ran her thumb over this tip, finding the moisture. More took its place, and she used her hand to stroke it over his flesh. He moaned.

“Joanna.”

“You could call me Jo. If you like.”

He kissed her in response, his mouth open and wet, claiming hers with a ferocity that drove her to the brink of madness. But a wonderful, delirious madness that she couldn’t wait to feel again.

He tugged at her nipple, drawing her to gasp into his mouth. Then he rolled it between his thumb and forefinger before pulling again. Sensation dove through her, making her dizzy with need.

He turned her and pushed her back onto the bed, following her onto the mattress. His hand moved down over her belly and found her sex once more. He tore his mouth from hers. “Are you wet for me?” He pressed his finger into her. “Oh yes. You are an amazing woman, Jo. I will thrash any man who dares say otherwise.”

Everything he said increased her urgency. She wanted him inside her now. She wanted that ultimate completion, that unattainable pleasure she’d never dreamed she’d find. “Bran. I need you. Now.”

“You are perfect.” He kissed her again, hard and deep, his tongue tangling with hers as he moved his body over hers.

She clasped his back, her fingers digging into his flesh as he positioned his cock at her sheath. He worked his way inside, slowly. Agonizingly slow.

Opening her thighs and bringing her legs up, she moved her hands down and gripped his backside, pulling him into her with one swift stroke. He filled her so completely and she instantly felt a stab of pleasure. It lessened as he pulled back but then came back tenfold when he surged forward again.

She closed her eyes and cast her head back, moaning. “Yes. Oh my, yes.”

He eased back, and she squeezed his flesh, urging him to come back, to move faster.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. He was watching her, the muscles of his face strained.

“Can I move?” she asked tentatively.

“God, yes. Please do.” He drove into her again, and this time, she rose to meet him, arching her hips off the bed.

He groaned and finally moved faster. He claimed her mouth once more as his movements became frenzied, his hips snapping into her thighs.

With each thrust, another stone in her wall crumbled to the ground. Until at last, she broke free. Ecstasy crashed over her, and she cried out, clutching at him as the only anchor in a world that had turned upside down.

He kept moving as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. Then he tensed, and he shouted. Something incomprehensible and wild. This was nothing like anything she’d ever experienced. She was profoundly grateful to him for this gift.

He fell against her but quickly moved to the side so that he was only partially on top of her. He cupped the side of her face, turning her head toward him, and kissed her. It was quick but delightfully thorough, reminding her of how wonderful she felt.

He rolled completely to his side, and she tucked her head beneath his chin, listening to his heartbeat slow. She closed her eyes and inhaled his fresh, sunny scent. There was something else now too, a musk that spiced the air around them. She nuzzled against his chest, happier and more satisfied than she could remember being.

They lay like that for a while before he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I should return to my chamber. And you’ll want to clean up, probably.”

She didn’t want him to leave but knew he must. “Yes.”

He left the bed and walked around to pull on his pantaloons. As he buttoned the fall, she found her night rail and pulled it on over her head. She’d tidy after he left.

“I took no precautions, so if you are with child, I will marry you.”

He didn’t ask. He expected. Everyone always expected things of her.

But none of that mattered because she wouldn’t be with child. “I appreciate your concern, but as I told you, I cannot conceive.”

He swept up his shirt and took a step toward her, his sapphire eyes blazing in the lamplight. “I am not convinced, especially after what I learned of your marriage. Take heart, Jo.” He leaned in and kissed her. “Good night.”

And then he was gone. Jo stared into the empty chamber. Tonight had opened up a world she didn’t believe existed. After nearly a decade in the dark, she felt as though the sun had come out and bathed her in warmth and light.

Then he’d mentioned a child, and a dream she’d long ago buried had flashed through her mind. But that was foolish—she knew it wasn’t possible. Damn him for summoning even a hint of hope.

As much as it pained her, she almost wished she’d remained in the dark.