Yuletide Treasure (Thornton 1.50)

“Brigitte.”

It was the first time he’d said her name, and her heart sang at the sound.

“What?” Her lashes fluttered open.

“Are you sure?”

Sure? She’d been sure forever.

“Yes. I’m sure.”

His breathing was harsh, strained, and he leaned over her, bracing himself on his forearms. “Do you understand what’s

going to happen?”

No coldhearted man could ever be this tender.

“Yes, I understand.”

He swallowed, every tendon in his neck strained, taut with need. “If you want to change your mind, do it now. Because once I’m in this bed, once I have you under me, there will be no turning back.”

She reached up, her palm stroking his bristled jaw. “I don’t want to change my mind. Make love to me.”

Those mesmerizing eyes narrowed into piercing obsidian chips. “Love? This has nothing to do with love,” Eric cautioned, dragging air into his lungs, clearly struggling to regain a control that was far beyond his grasp.

With a hard shake of his head, he capitulated.

“I’m a bloody bastard for doing this to you.” Fervently, he tunneled his fingers through her hair. “You’re a beautiful, romantic innocent who believes that what we’re about to do is rooted in some miraculous emotion. It’s not, Brigitte. It’s based m physical need. I want you. I’m insane with wanting you. I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you outside the church. My body is screaming to be inside yours, to pour an eternity of pent-up hunger into your womb. But that’s lust, my softhearted bride, not love. So, I repeat, if you want to leave, do it now. Because nothing is going to change if you stay, not even after we’ve burned each other up in bed. Not our lives nor the barriers that divide them Nothing.”

Liquid heat shimmered through Brigitte’s veins. “Burn each other up? Is that what we’ll do?”

“That—and more.”

“Show me.” Brigitte’s arms curled about Eric’s neck, her fingers lacing through the long hair at his nape. “I don’t care about the rest.”

“You might later.”

“If that’s the case, the burden will be mine. Just as the decision is now.” She gazed up at him, seeing the fine man Eric deemed dead and gone. “I’m your wife. You can hardly be accused of ruining me. Further, since I don’t believe in infidelity nor want to exist without ever knowing passion, you’re the only man who can offer it to me. Please, Eric I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” he demanded, lowering his weight onto hers. “Because, Lord help me, I don’t.”

His kiss was consuming, his hands blindly unfastening her gown, tugging it away from her body. With awkward fingers, she unbuttoned his shirt, parting the edges to explore the warm, hair-roughened skin of his chest.

With a muttered oath, he pushed her hands away, flinging his shirt to the floor, dragging off her undergarments in several hard, fierce motions. He moved away only long enough to shed the rest of his clothes, devouring her with his eyes in a way that made Brigitte feel as beautiful as he’d claimed she was.

He came down over her, his whole body shuddering at the first contact of their naked flesh, his mouth capturing her moan of pleasure.

Brigitte couldn’t form a coherent thought, so intense were the physical sensations coursing through her. She clutched at his arms—desperate to please him, uncertain how.

Eric raised his head, staring down at her.

“Teach me,” she beseeched, more demand than plea.

The harsh lines about his eyes softened; an odd light flickered in their inky depths. “You need no teaching. I’m already undone.”

“But …”

“Hush.” He brushed each corner of her mouth with his, muttering, “Let me.” His hands moved to cup the silky weight of her breasts, a sound of pure male satisfaction rumbling from his chest as he felt her inadvertent shiver. “This, at least, I can give you. Let me, Brigitte. I want to watch those incredible golden eyes of yours shimmer with the wonder of discovery.” His lips found the pulse at her throat. “I want to feel you shudder with a pleasure you never dreamed possible. Brigitte—let me.”