Total pages in book: 13
Estimated words: 11696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 58(@200wpm)___ 47(@250wpm)___ 39(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 11696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 58(@200wpm)___ 47(@250wpm)___ 39(@300wpm)
Until she said, “Do you wish to marry first?”
She must have surprised him. The stallion tossed his head, as if reacting to unexpected tension in the reins. In a flat voice, as if he didn’t wish to reveal his preference either way, he asked, “Do you not wish to continue courting—to be certain?”
“I’m certain.” And because she hadn’t declared herself so openly before, despite five blissful days and nights in his arms, she continued. “I do not wish to be in your bed simply to discover whether I can love you and want you enough to marry you—I know that I do. Love you, that is. And want you. Enough to marry. Enough to not marry, and still continue loving and wanting you.” Except…Brom had made no declaration either, and now he sat rigidly behind her. In a smaller voice, she added, “Unless you need me to continue courting you.”
Anxiously she turned to look back at him—and there was such tenderness in his gaze. His throat worked, and a moment later he said thickly, “I have never needed you to court me. I have wanted you from the beginning, and loved you almost as long.”
She considered that. “So you’ve been waiting longer to bed me than to marry me.”
“I have.”
“Well, then.” Flora settled back against him again. “Your bedchamber awaits, and your heart is not the only part of you that’s hard as stone. We’ll marry when you’ve finished making me scream.”
Brom laughed and nudged the stallion into a faster gait.
The fortress was no doubt even more impressive as they approached it. Flora barely saw a thing. Because as soon as Brom rode into the courtyard and lifted her down from the saddle—and up into his arms—all the world faded away, until there was only him and her, and the way Brom kissed her as he carried her into his chambers.
Loving him had never been a mistake. Hoping for this had never been foolish.
Instead it seemed the greatest of all treasures to have a friend who could set fire to her skin. Who searched out every spot that made her shiver with need, who trembled when she took him in her hand or her mouth.
And who looked at her as Bram did. Cherishing her, loving her.
Then kissing her again, from swollen lips to drenched cunt, and every quivering inch of skin between, readying her because never would Brom hurt her—and her barbarian was big, indeed. Big enough to make her cry out, but it was his gentleness that made her scream as he pushed slowly into her narrow sheath, the pain of taking him nothing to the agonized frustration of needing him deeper, and deeper, and deeper, as Brom resisted every desperate entreaty. She pulled at him, and pushed at him, and finally she was full, fuller than she’d ever dreamed.
Because her dreams were nothing to the reality of when he kissed her, when she could feel him moving inside her. So deep inside her. And rougher, his control shattering as she began to come—but Flora wasn’t screaming then, because she was kissing him again, utterly full of his love and her heart a shining diamond in her chest. Strong. Unbreakable.
Made of stone.
end