The Gold Coin (Colby's Coin 1)

"Kiss me, Anastasia."

Realization struck her like a tidal wave.

Her eyes snapped open, peered directly into his, and she saw the utter awareness in his gaze. "You … knew?" she managed.

"From the instant I saw you." He silenced her protest with a heated nudge of his mouth against hers. "Berate me later. For now, just kiss me."

Whatever indignation Anastasia felt was dwarfed by the hypnotic effect of being in Damen's arms. Without another word, she relented, stepping closer and angling her mouth to his.

Damen made a rough sound of approval, capturing her arms and bringing them high around his neck, then pulling her against him, covering her lips with his.

Fire ignited Anastasia's mouth, spread through her like a rampaging blaze. She flung herself into the kiss, parting her lips to Damen's seeking tongue, meeting his sensual strokes with her own.

Growling her name, Damen lifted her from the ground, carrying her backward three steps until she felt the cool bark of a tree behind her. Using that as an anchor, he crushed her body to his, devouring her mouth and letting his hands roam over her soft curves, awakening her through the confines of her gown.

He cupped her breast, molded it to his palm, and Anastasia moaned aloud, shifted restlessly to afford him greater access.

He took it.

Slipping his hand inside her bodice, he worked his way beneath her chemise to the warm, responsive flesh that craved his touch. His thumb found her nipple, already hardened with desire, and circled it, teasing the aching peak with unrelenting strokes.

The fire inside Anastasia grew.

Shuddering from the intensity of sensation, she heard herself whimper, arch instinctively closer. Damen's breath rasped at her lips, and he tore his mouth away only long enough to drag in air. Then, he buried his lips in hers again, consuming her mouth with an intensity that jolted through her like bolts of lightning.

"Damen…" Her arms twined more tightly around his neck, and she clung to him, succumbing more deeply to the flames scorching her from the inside out.

With a muffled oath, Damen dragged down her bodice, and tugged open her chemise.

There was a brief rush of cool air as her breasts sprang free, and then it was gone, as Damen lowered his head, captured her nipple between his lips.

This time she sobbed aloud, unable to stifle the unbearable pleasure screaming through her veins. She clutched at his head, cradled it closer, silently urging him to take more and more of her.

Damen indulged her—and himself.

He shifted, his lips closing around her other nipple, his tongue lashing across it as his thumb stroked its already dampened mate in slow, arousing circles.

A twig snapped just beyond where they stood. Damen's head shot up, and he surveyed the area, instinctively shielding Anastasia's body with his.

The culprit scooted into view: a red squirrel who, startled by Damen's sudden motion, dropped his acorn and darted off.

Slowly, Damen lowered his head, staring down at Anastasia, his normally silvery gaze almost black with passion. Sanity warred with desire as his hot stare mo

ved restlessly from her face down to her naked breasts, then back up again.

"You're so bloody beautiful," he muttered, his breath coming in hard, uneven rasps. "And all I want to do is…" He bit off his remaining words, his jaw working as he brought himself under control. In a few taut motions, he lowered her feet to the ground and tugged up her bodice. "Anastasia…" He cupped her hot face between his palms, uttered her name in a husky whisper. "I never meant to let it go this far. I'm sorry."

"No, you're not," she managed in a shattered voice that bore no resemblance to her own. "And neither am I." She leaned her head weakly against his chest, willing her trembling limbs and wildly pounding heart to calm.

Damen seemed to understand, because he gathered her closer, enfolding her against him and resting his chin atop her head. He was as affected as she, his arms shaking with reaction, his heart thundering against her ear. "You're right," he said hoarsely. "I'm not sorry. What's more, if that damned squirrel hadn't interrupted…"

Anastasia nodded, still trying to regain her wits and her thoughts.

"Are you all right?" Damen's breath ruffled her hair. That question jogged the memory of what had preceded these erotic moments.

"You knew." Anastasia's pronouncement was weak, more a statement than an accusation, her words muffled by Damen's waistcoat. "All the time—you knew."

She felt him smile against her hair. "From the instant you walked into that dining room—yes, I knew."