Lair of the Lion

but it was impossible to block out the masculine scent of him, the feel of his hard muscles imprinted on her body. His arms crept around her waist, his hands locked beneath her breasts. She was acutely aware of the way his fingers moved, seeking her skin beneath the lace of her gown. Her skin felt hot, and her breasts were full and aching for his touch.
    They lay for some time in silence, with only the fire crackling and popping and the flickering flames from the candles throwing dancing figures on the wall. Feeling protected and treasured, Isabella snuggled closer against his solid frame.
    Nicolai pressed his mouth into the nape of her neck, then felt his erection swelling and thickening against her body. He let it happen, savoring his need of her, determined he would let her rest. He could have her again and again. Share her bed. Her body. Her thoughts. Her heart and soul. Touching her would be enough for now. Tasting her.
    Knowing she was in bed beside him, that her body craved his with the same hunger he felt.
    He moved one hand up to her breast to cup the warmth. Soft flesh filled his palm. Lazily his thumb caressed her nipple through the delicate lace.
    Isabella shifted restlessly. "How am I supposed to go to sleep?" Her voice held a soft, sensuous note, a hint of laughter, and no reprimand.
    He lifted his head to nuzzle the valley between her breasts, his tongue sliding over her skin, his hands carefully pushing the lace aside. "You go to sleep and dream of me. Take me with you wherever you go, bellezza. Take the feel of my hands and mouth with you so no one dares to creep in to disturb your dreams." His tongue flicked at a nipple, once, twice, his hand kneading with exquisite gentleness. He lowered his head and drew her into his hot mouth.

    A rush of heat consumed her, and her legs moved restlessly. Her arms circled his head to hold him to her. Nicolai suckled there, one hand sliding down her back to press her against his painful erection, holding her there. Then, as he pulled strongly at her breast, his hand slipped lower, dragging the hem of her gown up over her triangle of tight curls.
    Her body clenched tightly, the sweet ache becoming urgent and demanding. She moved her hips, but his hand pressed against her damp mound and held her still. "Just let it happen slowly, piccola. There's no need to rush. Let it happen." He circled her nipple with his tongue, and went back to suckling.
    Isabella was acutely conscious of his hand moving, sliding over her, into her, picking up the rhythm of his mouth. His fingers were clever, caressing her, disappearing deeply, stretching her, exploring, finding her thighs again. Her body shuddered with pleasure. It was almost more than she could bear.
    Nicolai abruptly lifted his head from the temptation of her breasts. Isabella heard the coughing grunt of a lion nearby. She watched him turn his head one way, then the other, as if listening. The silken fall of his long hair brushed her skin, sending flames licking along her nerve endings. She shivered beneath the onslaught. His fingers were deep inside her, stroking little caresses so that waves of fire seemed to wash over her, through her.
    Nicolai pressed his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry. I meant only to hold you, not make you ache. I swear to you, I'll be back." Reluctantly he withdrew his fingers from her.
    "Intruders are approaching the pass. I must go."
    Her body was begging for release, but she nodded at him, aware of the anguish in his eyes, aware he wanted to hold her and comfort her, aware he had meant to love her slowly and thoroughly. She hugged the knowledge to her and nodded again. "Go where you're needed, Nicolai." She needed him. Isabella curled her fists at her sides and kept her expression carefully blank.
    Nicolai kissed her again, then regretfully pulled on his clothes with swift, fluid ease. "I'll be back, Isabella." He hesitated for a moment, searching for something to say to ease his leaving her, but nothing came to mind. Thank the good Madonna she didn't weep or beg—
    he would have hated that. Yet she looked so alone and vulnerable, it ate at his insides. "Ti amo." The words slipped out before he could stop them, straight from his soul. He turned and left the room by way of the hidden passage, careful of her reputation even with the lions summoning him.
    With a groan, Isabella buried her face in the pillow and just breathed. Her body was on fire, her heart felt bruised, and confusion reigned in