Wild Star (Star Quartet 3)

Something inside her snapped at his tone of utter and absolute command. He turned her to face him. She brought up her fist and smashed it with all her strength into his stomach.

Brent sucked in his breath, grunting more in surprise than in pain. When he felt her fingernails rake his shoulder, he grabbed her about the waist and flung her onto the bed on her back. He landed on top of her, jerking her arms above her head and holding her wrists together with one hand.

“Enough,” he said, staring down at her. He saw the wild fury in her eyes, and grinned. “So, I’m to ride a wild mare on my wedding night?”

Byrony tried to squirm away from him, and quickly realized that her movements only excited him all the more.

“I hate you.”

He was still grinning. “I will make you forget those words. And no, I’m not going to rape you. Now, I suggest that since you are quite ignorant, you simply lie still and let me teach you.” He dipped his head down and kissed her lightly on the mouth. “And you will enjoy it, Byrony, oh, you surely will.”

She felt the length of him swollen against her belly, felt his chest against her breasts. “No,” she said, “I won’t.”

That startled him, and for a moment he merely stared down at her. “So that’s the way it is to be. We will see, Byrony. We will see.”

He released her wrists, but she did nothing, merely lay there looking up at the ceiling. He rolled off her and balanced himself on his elbow beside her. He took his time to study her. “You will fill out,” he said, hoping to get a rise from her. He touched her breast, gently stroking. He cupped her, felt her heartbeat. It quickened under his palm, and he smiled. She had such beautiful breasts—he’d told her that already. He continued to stroke her as he looked downward. She was a bit on the thin side, it was true. Lord, he’d be thin too if he’d lived the way she had the past weeks. Her skin was soft, and very smooth. He kneaded her belly and felt her muscles tighten beneath his fingers. Lightly he brushed his fingertips over her dark blond curls. He heard her indrawn breath, felt her stiffen.

“You have nice legs,” he said, thinking that an understatement. They were long and very white and shapely. Quickly he cupped her breast again and felt her heartbeat soar to a gallop.

“Please,” Byrony said. “No.”

“Yes, sweetheart. Now, I want you to open your legs.”

“No,” she said again.

He wedged his hand between her thighs and parted them slightly.

Byrony closed her eyes tightly. She knew he was looking at her, studying her. His fingers stroked the insides of her thighs, drawing ever nearer. He bent her legs and parted them. She didn’t fight him. She felt strangely languid, but no longer apart from him. No, she was beside him, feeling him touch her.

He moved quickly between her legs, pressing up against her.

Byrony jerked upward.

“No, I won’t let you! I—”

He pressed his full weight on her and kissed her. His body was already moving against her rhythmically, and she was frightened, remembering the pain from before. She felt his urgency and began to fight him in earnest.

“Byrony,” he said into her mouth, “stop it. Love, lie still.”

“No.” She turned her face from side to side to avoid his mouth. “You promised you wouldn’t hurt me. You’re a liar, like all men, you’re—”

He rolled off her and drew her against him. “Hush,” he said, stroking his fingers through her hair. “I won’t hurt you. I’m not a liar.” He shook his head at himself. Lord, he’d lost control. The last thing he wanted was for her to fear his lovemaking. He held her gently. He kissed her hair and did nothing else. When she quieted, he eased her away so he could see her face.

“Let’s go to sleep,” he said. “All right?”

She blinked, not understanding him. He rose and doused the lamps, then returned to the bed and eased them both under the covers. “Come here, Byrony. I want to hold you. That’s all.”

She came to him, knowing he would force her to if she didn’t obey him. She lay stiffly against his side, her cheek on his chest, her thoughts desolate and bitter. To Brent’s surprise, he heard her breathing quickly even into sleep.

He cursed, then smiled into the darkness.

It was still and calm and very dark when he awoke, a smile still on his lips. She was lying relaxed and yielding against him, her palm open on his chest. Very slowly he eased her onto her back. She mumbled something in her sleep, but didn’t awaken. He lightly stroked down her belly, found her. She was soft and warm. He stroked her slowly, felt her woman’s dampness and felt as if he would shout with the pleasure of it. He eased his finger inside her. He closed his eyes a moment, almost feeling himself coming into her.

Slowly, he thought, very slowly. He began caressing her again and heard her moan softly. Oh yes, Byrony, let me invade your dreams.

He had invaded her dream. She was standing atop a hill, a barren hill with a wide green valley beneath her. Strange, intense feelings were welling up inside her, making her squirm, making her breathless, making her want to move closer to the edge of the hill. Her hips moved, and in her dream she was looking down into that green valley, crying, not knowing what to do.

Brent deepened the pressure and her hand came up to touch his shoulder. She hovered between dream and reality, wanting to keep the so