Children of the Sea 03 - Sea Lord

and valiant, pale with fear and shining with power.” He stood so close his breath stirred her hair. His deep look sizzled along her nerves like lightning. “You fill me. You restore my sun. You replenish my spirit. You know . . . Lucy, you know what I want.”
    Her heart shook. Did she?
    All her life, she had dreamed of being wanted for who she was. She had never believed in her own desirability, never felt herself loved.
    Never imagined herself the way Conn saw her.
    She moistened her dry lips. She had never initiated their lovemaking before either. “Maybe you could show me.”
    “Indeed.” A smile warmed his voice and lingered in his eyes.
    His long fingers traced her cheek, cupped her chin. She shivered in anticipation and desire, prepared for him to claim her. His mouth settled on hers gently, almost delicately, his lips warm and persuasive. The tenderness of his kiss stole the breath from her lungs and drew her heart from her chest.
    He raised his head. “This is not fair.”
    Her eyes opened. Her arms tightened around his neck. He couldn’t stop now. Could he?
    “What?”
    “You should have what you want, too,” he murmured against her lips.
    His teasing was new and sweet, but her body had moved beyond laughter. Her blood raced warm and urgent. She arched against him, feeling his desire hard against her stomach. “I’d say you’re about to give it to me.”
    “This rug, for instance,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. His hand on her hip caressed her lightly through the slippery silk. He was only touching her with one hand, but every nerve in her body was dancing and alive.
    She glanced down, distracted, at the rich blue patterned Oriental. “What?”
    He brushed his lips over hers. His body was hot and broad and close. “I had the rug delivered for you.
    To keep your feet warm against the stone. But it serves me as well.”
    “Um. Great.” Why was he still talking?
    “For example, when I do this,” he said, and knelt in front of her.
    He slid open her robe, breathed her in through her gown, nuzzled between her thighs. His breath seared her through the fabric. Her knees trembled as he drew up the hem.

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    Long minutes later, her hands fisted in his hair, warm, damp silk beneath her fingers. She was panting, twisting, breathless, blind.
    “Oh, God,” she choked out.
    He licked into her again, making her moan, and then pressed a kiss low on her stomach.
    “Don’t stop,” she begged.
    “You haven’t told me if you like it.”
    “I love it.”
    “The rug.”
    She stared at him wildly.
    “It’s blue.” His gaze fixed briefly on the aquamarine at her belly before traveling up to her face, his expression pure male and smugly satisfied. “Your favorite color.”
    “I’m crazy about it,” she said, shaking with laughter and need. Crazy about him. “Would you fuck me, please?”
    His face was suddenly serious. “I want to make love to you.”
    Her breath went. Her heart stopped. “Yes. Now.”
    “On this rug,” he said.
    “Anywhere.”
    He pulled her down and loved her, rode her, until she cried out and came apart in his arms.
    That night the sun went down over the sea in banners of scarlet and gold.
    Conn rose on one elbow, watching Lucy’s profile in the pale light of morning. His other arm draped across her waist. His hand curved over her thigh. Even in sleep, her face never relaxed completely. Her long, mobile mouth was closed and composed. Faint lines scored the wide space between her brows.
    Only in sex, only with him, did she release her customary control.
    The thought swelled his morning cockstand, nestled against the sweet curves of her bottom. He bent his head to sniff her thick, fair hair rioting across their pillows. She smelled of sweat and sex. Musky scents, earthy and arousing.
    A wave of gratitude and lust washed over him.
    He nuzzled her neck. She murmured and hunched her shoulder, making the covers slip, exposing the strong, smooth curve of her arm, the upper slope of her breast. Her skin was so smooth, so soft and damp and lovely to him. His cock twitched impatiently. He had to have her again. He had to have her.
    Last night he had used her well and ridden her hard. It did not seem right to wake her.
    He grinned against her tickling hair. So he wouldn’t.
    He bent her forward, so he could see the delicate bumps of her spine, and lifted her leg over his thigh. He