Free The Heat of the Knight by Scottie Barrett Page A

bruising along his side made her wince. Her fingers grazed over a pattern of circular shapes indented in his skin, indentations so deep that blood had pooled near the skin's surface. They resembled the links of chain mail. Obviously, he had sustained an injury for his hauberk to have left marks even through the quilted gambeson. Why, she wondered, would he be wearing chain mail to hunt?
    With a groan, he lowered himself into the tub. As he steeped in the hot water, his eyes drifted shut, and his head lolled forward, the tips of his black hair soaking up the water. She stroked the black stubble defining his jaw line. He probably hadn't taken a blade to his face in over a week. The rough beard made him look completely untamable.
    She feared it suited him too well, a man no woman could hope to domesticate.
    With tender care, she moved the soap over his battered body. His hand flew to his shoulder as she smoothed the sudsy water over his muscles. Oddly, no bruising marked his skin there. Then she recalled how his shoulder would ache after a long day of longbow practice.
    Hoisting the half-asleep giant from the tub took effort. She was wetter than he by the time she had accomplished the monumental task. With care, she dried his battered and bruised skin with a soft cloth, then pointed him in the direction of the bed. A loud sigh echoed through the room as his body hit the mattress, the bed creaking under his dead weight. She reached for the coverlet and pulled it across him. As she turned to leave, his hand shot from under the cover and grabbed her waist. Before she had time to be startled, she was under the cover, her back tucked securely against his body. He meshed his fingers with hers, spreading her fingers far apart. It made her think of opening her legs sinfully wide for him, so wide that her muscles would tremble, and having his fingers part her labia to expose her moist, pink folds to his piercing, dark gaze.
    When he kissed the back of her neck, a tingle of delight tiptoed up her back. “I have seen hell, Tiana. Now I need heaven,” he whispered, his lips so close to her ear she could feel their softness in contrast to the bristle of his beard. His hands slid up her legs gathering up the skirt of her kirtle. When his fingers reached the naked skin of her thighs, she instinctively pressed her bottom against his hardness.
    He groaned. “You want me.” He said it as if it were a revelation.
    Roughly, he yanked up her skirt so that it bunched above her hips. She squirmed, but he grabbed her hips with both hands and pulled her buttocks toward him, plunging inside of her before she could take a breath.
    His tight grip softened, and one of his hands trailed down her stomach to the eager nub between her nether lips. He massaged it gently, all the while slamming his pelvis against her with powerful thrusts. His long, achingly hard cock reached deeper than ever as she pushed her bottom against him.
    In a daze, she twisted her upper body and glanced over her shoulder at his face. His eyes were slightly open, and he stared down at the space he'd made between them, watching his hardened erection stroking in and out of her. Christiana rested her head on the pillow and clutched at the side of the mattress for leverage. Her thighs squeezed the big fingers trapped between her legs, and she rubbed her pussy brazenly against them.
    The thumb of his other hand drew a rough circle around her untried, puckered hole.
    When it pressed suggestively at the entrance, she stiffened, impaled on his formidable shaft. She could not move as waves of incredible pleasure pulsed through her. And then his thrusts came harder and faster. He drove into her with such fierceness that she stifled a scream. His body shuddered behind her as he found release outside her body. As he relaxed his hold, he nuzzled his face into the back of her hair.
    Suspicions took root. Had he really only been hunting? The leader of the pack of armored riders that patrolled the