The Winter Wife

“Stop,” he said hoarsely.

Her hand paused in its downward progress. “Stop?” The self- consciousness that flooded her face carved a rift in his heart. “You said—”

Shaking his head, he finally released the chair. He flexed his fingers to restore the blood flow. “And I meant it. But let’s do this properly.”

Her hand fell away from her shirt to lie loose in her lap. “Shouldn’t I

take my clothes off?”

Dear God, she was going to kill him before she was done.

He closed his eyes and prayed for control as recollections of

touching Alicia’s naked body crammed his mind and turned him as hard as an oak staff. When he opened them, she watched him as if he acted like a madman. She wasn’t far wrong.

“We’ve got plenty of time.” He stepped toward the bed, his hands opening and closing at his sides as he fought the urge to seize her and tumble her back against the mattress. “Why rush things?”

“Kinvarra…” she said unsteadily. She might have invited his attentions, but he caught the flash of uncertainty in her eyes. He didn’t underestimate the courage she’d needed to ask him to join her.

“You called me Sebastian before.”

“You weren’t staring at me as if you wanted to eat me then.” She clutched at the sheet although she didn’t pull it higher. He was close enough now to notice the wild flutter of her pulse at her delicate throat and the way her erratic breathing made her swelling breasts rise and

fall.

“Believe me, I’d love to.” The urge to rush, to grab, to possess before she changed her mind thundered in his veins but he resisted its demands. He had to rein himself in or the promise of joy would disintegrate to dust.

Her scent washed over him, floral soap and something honeyed

and enticing that was the essence of Alicia. In all this time, he’d never forgotten. He drew a deep breath, taking that delicious fragrance deep into his lungs.

Slowly, as if any untoward movement might scare her away, he reached for the hand that crushed the sheet. At the contact, she jerked and released a choked gasp.

“Don’t be afraid, Alicia,” he murmured, feeling her trembling in his grasp. “I won’t hurt you.”

He hoped to hell he spoke true. His grip tightened even as he told himself he needed to be careful with her.

“I’m…I’m not afraid,” she said on a thread of sound.

He laughed softly and lowered himself to sit on the bed, his hip resting against the blankets over her legs. “Liar.”

She blushed. As a girl, her blushes had charmed him. They still did, he discovered.

“I’m nervous. That’s not the same as afraid.”

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. He felt her shiver and her eyes darkened with unmistakable response. Turning her hand over, he kissed her palm. As he heard her breath catch, desire spurred him to take more, satisfy his pounding need. With difficulty he beat back his arousal.

She remembered him as a selfish lover. He needed to vanquish those bleak memories and replace them with bliss. His voice deepened into sincerity. “Alicia, trust me.”

He held her gaze with his. Doubt, fear, and something that might have been reluctant hope swirled in her eyes. He felt tension in the

hand he held. In aching suspense, he waited for her to agree. Surely she couldn’t be so merciless as to deny him now.

The silence extended. And extended.

Then finally, finally, she nodded.

“I trust you, Sebastian.”