Echoes in the Mist (Kingsleys in Love 1)

Ariana felt the impact of his ardent seduction, her body responding on cue, coming back to life beneath his expert touch. But it was the tender concern in his voice she reveled in, opened her eyes to, gave herself to.

Moving sensuously, eagerly beneath him, she curled her arms around her husband’s neck, showing him she wanted him with every fiber of her being.

Trenton gritted his teeth. “Is the pain gone?”

“Nearly.” Ariana shifted restlessly into Trenton’s caressing hand, the movement driving him deeper inside her, increasing the exquisite friction where his rigid shaft stretched her moist, sensitive softness. Ariana whimpered with pleasure, and Trenton threw back his head, emitting a low sound of pure animal need.

“Damn it, Ariana,” he growled, his eyes darkening to nearly black. “I’m not a saint.” He was already moving, unable to hold back any longer.

“That feels so good,” she whispered, awed and totally oblivious to Trenton’s warning.

With a husky laugh, he bent his head, covering her mouth with his, gliding his hands beneath her silky bottom to lift her into his thrusts. “Ah, misty angel, my beautiful, innocent seductress,” he murmured, drawing back only to press deep within her once more. “You burn me down to my soul.” He bit lightly at her lower lip. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

“You. I want you, Trenton.” The frantic feeling had returned, her body wild for release.

He stared down at her for an endless moment, taking in her rosy cheeks and flushed breasts, her shallow breathing, the helpless arching of her body beneath his. A look of raw, naked emotion crossed his face just before he took her mouth purposefully, ready to give her what she so desperately craved.

Penetrating her mouth with his tongue, Trenton drew Ariana’s hips up to meet the powerful surge of his. Again and again he repeated the dual motion, possessing her so totally she couldn’t breathe, nor did she want to.

The tidal wave of sensation roared to life inside her once more, drowning her in its wake, and Ariana struggled recklessly for that elusive relief that hovered just out of her reach.

“Don’t fight, love,” Trenton panted into her open mouth. “Let me take you there. Trust me.”

Ariana stopped struggling at once.

She felt Trenton’s hands tighten on her hips, his thrusts become deeper, more powerful, faster. Ariana’s nails scored his back, her cries mounted with each plunging thrust. Fervently, her body tightened around his, beneath his. And all the while he breathed hot, explicit instructions in her ear, guided her from one shimmering plateau to another, until they teetered on the highest precipice, plummeted over its magnificent edge.

The tidal wave burst, sending waves and waves of sheer, dazzling euphoria exploding inside her, cresting and falling with each spasm of her body. She cried out his name, heard his exultant shout of release, and then there was only the wondrous feeling of being crushed in his arms, the very essence of him pouring into her body, melding her climax with his own.

And at last there was peace.

CHAPTER

8

TIMELESS, LANGUOROUS MINUTES ELAPSED.

Ariana sank into the mattress, blanketed beneath Trenton’s solid weight, dimly aware that his sweat-drenched body was still shuddering with powerful aftershocks. Reality held at bay, she drifted, her limbs weak as water, her mind floating on clouds of contentment. So this was the glorious aftermath of passion, this feeling of incomparable oneness. She closed her eyes. Please, she prayed silently, never let it end.

Long moments later, Trenton raised his head, gazing wearily down at his wife through sober, sated eyes.

Feeling his scrutiny, Ariana forced her lids to open, and what she saw on Trenton’s face made her heart leap with happiness. His expression was unguarded, devoid of its customary anger and arrogance, filled with awe … and a touch of remorse.

Instinctively, Ariana reached up, erasing the lines of concern from his forehead with gentle strokes of her fingertips, gliding her hand through the damp, silky texture of his hair.

Trenton bent to kiss her soft, bruised lips. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, giving him a shy smile. “Yes. A bit crushed, but fine.”

Instantly he eased off her, frowning when she flinched at his withdrawal. “You’re in pain.”

“No,” she quickly denied, unwilling to relinquish this wonderful new intimacy that flowed between them. Never having imagined such closeness existed, she longed to preserve the wondrous bond they had just forged with their bodies. “I’m not in pain. Just discomfort.”

She wanted to sob out a protest when Trenton rolled to his feet and left her, crossing the room to fill the china basin with cool water. Alone in the massive bed, bereft and unsure, Ariana felt abandoned, insignificant and utterly alone. For the briefest of instants, she seriously considered begging him to come back and hold her, then dismissed the notion as nonsensical. Trenton would think she had lost her mind.

Perhaps she had.

Raising her head, Ariana studied him candidly. He was bronzed, magnificent and as totally oblivious to his own nakedness as he was to the loneliness settling heavily on her heart. She sat up straighter, the sheet falling to her waist, making her abruptly aware of her own nudity.