All said in that same steady voice, with that same steady, self-contained gaze, and she realized he believed he was utterly, eternally alone.
He hadn’t wanted to tell her who he was because he didn’t want to lose her. And now he clearly believed he had.
“Please, for the love of God, stop,” she said in a gentle voice. Reaching out, she slid off the bed to kneel on the floor in front of him, put her arms around him, and hug him as tightly as she could.
He was holding himself so rigidly she was afraid he might shatter. That massive composure was coming at a cost, and now her heart hurt for an entirely different reason. Blindly, she rubbed her cheek against his, stroked his hair with both hands. Stop, please stop.
Then his rigidity broke with a suddenness so sharp it was almost audible. He clenched around her, bowing his shoulders as he held her with his entire body. She could feel each one of his fingers pressing along her back and at the nape of her neck.
“You are my friend,” she said softly in his ear. “You are the best friend I have in this wretched place.”
He put his face in her neck, which muffled his voice. “I’m your only friend in this wretched place.”
“True,” she acknowledged. His heartbeat hammered against her breasts. “Even so, I trust, respect, and rely on you.”
“Oh, Sidonie,” he said.
She insisted, “On you, the man, not the geas. I know you will never hurt me. I know you will support, respect, and defend me, and you will never coerce me, and never try to push past any barriers I may erect.” She pulled back just enough so she could look deeply into his eyes as she said, “And I am so glad I get the chance to tell that to you face-to-face, Morgan.”
As she watched, a flood of emotion tightened his face. Huskily, he said, “Your music might be transcendent, but I’m not so sure about your smarts.”
Widening her eyes, she gave him a wry smile as she gestured around the bleak little room. “I know, right? Who else could get herself in such a pickle? I mean, look at these clothes!”
Reluctant laughter flashed across his handsome face. Then, almost as quickly, it vanished, to be replaced by an expression of such vulnerable heat her eyes sparked with wetness.
“Morgan,” she whispered, to savor the taste of his name in her mouth. “Morgan.”
Shadows grew in the room as the unnatural candle flame died down to its normal size, the intense, burning gold replaced with a soft, gentle glow.
Giving her a slow, coaxing smile that turned the heat in the room up by a thousand degrees, he stroked her lips with the balls of his thumbs as he murmured, “Can we get back to talking about possibly inviting that werewolf for sex?”
She was wearing clothes, but they were no barrier to the deep, rich sound of his voice as it caressed her skin. A shiver ran down her back.
She couldn’t stop staring at him. So this was what he looked like.
This was the man who had healed her, held her, empathized with her pain, driven away the cold and the loneliness. This man with the sun-bronzed skin, strong features, and intelligent eyes had shown her nothing but kindness.
This magic man, this Morgan.
As she paused, he laughed a little. It was a warm, accepting sound. “Too soon?” he asked as a wry, self-deprecating smile twisted his lips.
“Not at all.” She pulled his head down and kissed him.
Immediately, his firm, well-shaped lips molded to hers. Slanting his head, he tilted her back and kissed her with such raw animal hunger, it sent shock jolting through her body.
Coaxing her lips apart, he speared her with his tongue, over and over, while his breathing deepened and turned ragged. Digging her fingers into his shoulders, she held on as she kissed him back.
He was in her mouth. Inside her, in the most intimate imitation of the sexual act.
She felt so much need, too much for her body to take. It ran through her in deep tremors.
Lifting his head, he whispered against her wet, throbbing lips, “Too much?”
Wasn’t that sweet. Considerate, even.
But oh, hell no.
She gasped, “Not enough.”
It was as if she had opened a floodgate. If she had thought he had been intense before, it was nothing compared to the hurricane of male aggression that came at her now. He ate at her ravenously, while with one restless hand he cupped her breast then gripped her by the thigh to pull her flush against him so she felt the hard, thickening length of his cock against her pelvis.
She couldn’t touch him enough, and she needed to get closer. Squirming against him, she tried to unbutton his shirt, but she was hampered by her own actions. Growling with frustration, she yanked at the cloth.
Scooping her up, he laid her on the bed, then paused only long enough to tear his shirt off.
Oh, dear God, just look at him. He was tanned everywhere, his chest covered with a light sprinkle of hair that narrowed down to a strip that arrowed into his pants. In contrast, the bandage winding around the lower part of his ribs was very white.
The black shirt had hidden the real breadth of his chest and shoulders, and every muscle was cut. He had scars too, scattered across his torso. In the dark, she had never really gotten a clear idea of how he moved with such distinct fluidity.
His shape might be human, but he moved like a dangerous animal.
The outline of his erection was clearly visible against the confines of his trousers.
She wanted to lick that narrow sprinkle of hair on his long, muscled abdomen so badly.
Suddenly, she was burning up. Sitting, she pulled her tunic over her head. Her sports bra from Earth was still damp and hanging in the wardrobe, but she was built slightly enough she hadn’t bothered to try to figure out what might pass for a bra in Avalon. The ugly clothes Kallah had given her were made of a cloth that was thick enough her nipples weren’t visible, and that was all that had mattered to her.
As her head came free of her tunic, she found that he had frozen with one knee on the edge of the bed. He stared at her.
She glanced down at herself. She was an A-cup, but at least her nipples were perky.
“Not exactly a wealth of curvature,” she said dryly.
Tenderness softened the hunger that had etched his face. He touched one of her breasts, stroking gently along the underside, then caressing the jut of her nipple so lightly it felt like a passing breeze along her skin.
He said deeply, “Sidonie, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Her lips parted as she drank that in, and she didn’t need to have truthsense as she looked up into his face. She could see the sincerity in his gaze. Suddenly, she felt more beautiful than she ever had before.
It made her feel different in ways she didn’t fully comprehend. Bolder, more confident.
She had always been confident about her music, fueled by the sheer relentlessness of unending practice, testing, and feedback.
But this new feeling had nothing to do with her music. It had everything to do with believing she was a desirable woman in the eyes of her lover.
When his hands moved to the fastening of his trousers, she took hold of his wrists and said huskily, “Here, let me help you with that.”
His torso flexed as he sucked in a breath, and then he let his hands fall to his sides.
Rising to her knees, she undid the fastening. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and as she pulled the opening wide, his large erection spilled into her hands.
He was perfect in every way. His cock was thick, the sides corded with veins, the mushroom head broad. As her fingers curled gently around him, discovering the velvety heat, his breathing deepened again. She glanced up.
His gaze had fired with so much passion and emotion, she could not quite believe this was the same self-contained man who had listed all his crimes with such relentless composure. Her eyes prickled with tears.
In a move she had never made before with either of her previous lovers, yet one that felt entirely right, she bent her head just enough to lay his cock against her cheek in a heartfelt gesture of affection.
Whispering her name, he stroked her hair, her temple, the delicate skin at the side of her neck.
The next step seemed as simple and natural as breathing. Pressing a quick kiss to his shaft, she opened her mouth and took him in.
Chapter Fifteen
When Morgan felt Sidonie’s mouth close over him, the breath left his lungs. A few minutes ago, he had been convinced she would repudiate him.