The Hostage Bride (1998)
“He always used the same chamber in Fanny’s house. Taking the flagon between his teeth, he flung open the door to a chamber at the very end of the gallery, stepped inside, and kicked it shut.
He set the candelabra on the mantel, the flagon on a small round table, and with a flourish unwound his trophy, setting her on her feet.
“I won,” Portia said breathlessly, pushing her hair out of her eyes.
“A moot point,” Rufus said, catching her chin on the palm of his hand. He kissed her mouth, his lips hard and yet pliant, his beard silky against her skin. It was as it had been that morning, and yet there was an added dimension … a sense of absolute inevitability, of destiny. Portia kissed him back with a fervor that matched the beat of her blood. The music, the shouts, the exultant cries came up from below so that she could feel the rhythm and the passion in the soles of her feet.
She was aware of nothing now except the thrilling of her blood, the scent of his skin, the feel of his mouth again...st hers, the taste of wine on his tongue and hers.MoreLess
He set the candelabra on the mantel, the flagon on a small round table, and with a flourish unwound his trophy, setting her on her feet.
“I won,” Portia said breathlessly, pushing her hair out of her eyes.
“A moot point,” Rufus said, catching her chin on the palm of his hand. He kissed her mouth, his lips hard and yet pliant, his beard silky against her skin. It was as it had been that morning, and yet there was an added dimension … a sense of absolute inevitability, of destiny. Portia kissed him back with a fervor that matched the beat of her blood. The music, the shouts, the exultant cries came up from below so that she could feel the rhythm and the passion in the soles of her feet.
She was aware of nothing now except the thrilling of her blood, the scent of his skin, the feel of his mouth again...st hers, the taste of wine on his tongue and hers.MoreLess
Write Review:
Guest
Read Also
9 / 10
User Reviews: