![]() “I’m looking at you, Francie,” he said, staring at her. “What?” He blinked again, bringing her back into focus. If only those damn fingers would stop moving. “What’s wrong? You’re looking at me but I don’t think you’re seeing me.” He couldn’t speak, not now when he was fighting for his sanity. “Alexander?” Her soft voice drifted to him. He blinked hard and tried not to think of those slender fingers stroking the length of him. When her hands circled him, it took every last ounce of control not to throw her over the sofa and dive into her like a madman. His penis sprang free-hard, ready, throbbing. This night, his wife would explore his body and test her powers and he would let her, even if it killed him-which it might well do. He’d always been the dominant one, but not tonight. He clenched his teeth and prayed for strength when Francie pulled the trousers over his hips. The need to end this sensual torment warred with the desire to prolong the sweet anticipation. Those damnable entrancing eyes never left his face as she worked the buttons, first one, then another, and another until she’d released them all. When her fingers slid to the top of his trousers, Alexander forgot to breathe. She eased it from his shoulders, her hands splayed across his chest, her fingers curling in a mat of dark hair. She moved toward him, hands outstretched, lips parted in a slight smile and held his gaze as she released the last three buttons on his shirt. His gaze drifted downward to the fiery nest of curls between her legs and he knew this goddess from heaven would indeed rescue him from his own private hell. Her hair hung down her back in a red-gold display of fire and sunshine. The light from the candle flickered along her body, casting golden shadows over her naked skin. His fingers shook as he inched the nightgown from her shoulders and let it land in a white heap at her feet. His gaze followed the jagged edges of thin material ending just below her navel. A pink nipple peaked out from the edge of the fabric. Her gown hung open, torn down the middle to reveal a generous expanse of creamy breast. “Then you shall have me, my husband,” she murmured, pulling away. Her throaty laugh scorched him with need. “I want you,” he said, bunching her nightgown in his hand and dragging it up. Alexander groaned and pulled her closer, nestling her hips between his thighs. Her arms circled his middle and she met his mouth in a hot, hungry kiss that spoke of passion and promise. She smiled, a brilliant smile filled with love and desire. “Show me your love, Francie.” He bent toward her, his voice thick with emotion. He released his hold on her and cupped her face in his hands. What if he did the unthinkable and opened himself up to her? Just a crack, giving her a sliver of trust? What then? Could he do that? Would she accept the meager offering or would she demand more? He was so damned tired of waging this battle against himself and these feelings that clamored inside, begging for release. “Trust me and my love will make you the strongest man in the world.”įrancie’s words pounded in Alexander’s brain, her promises coursing through every nerve in his body. ![]() “Trust me,” she whispered against his lips. “You bring me to my knees.” He buried his hands in her hair and pulled her to him. “And don’t refuse me.” She touched her mouth to his. “Don’t avoid me.” Her lips trailed down his face to his chin. Don’t ignore me,” she whispered, leaning up on tiptoe to brush a kiss against his scar. She set the candle on the mantel and circled her arms around his neck. He hesitated a second, then reached out and traced her lips with his finger. “I won’t betray you,” she murmured, trailing her finger along the jagged path of his scar. Trust me.” He turned toward her and she stroked his stubbled chin. “If you keep running from your feelings, you’ll be a tortured man all of your life. He turned away, rubbing the back of his neck. ![]()
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