Free Haunting Desire by Erin Quinn

the rough bed of furs. From the corner of his eye, he saw her sit up and turn to peer at him through the dark.
    He braced himself not to stir or show any sign of wakefulness, but he waited, knowing what she would do. Feeling the pull of her need. Feeling the desire to give her what she wanted pulsing with his own heart.
    Her movements were tentative, her breaths short and soft. She climbed from Liam’s bed and hesitated at the side of his for just a moment. Then she pulled back his furs and slid her soft, feminine body next to his. He couldn’t have stopped the groan in his throat if his life had depended on it.
    It had been so, so long . . .
    She settled next to him, and resigned to his torment, he pulled her into the bend of his body, molding her curves into his angles, her back snug to his chest as he sheltered her with his strong arms. She fit like she’d been made for him, and his hands gentled over her, caressing as they crossed her chest and held her. She smelled sweet and good , her beguiling female scent light and enthralling. All of it wrapped around him and made him feel something he hadn’t for so many years.
    Vital. Needed. Strong.
    The tension in her vibrated against him, and he knew she felt the weight of his arousal pressing at her back. He willed her to fall asleep, to leave him alone in this purgatory of emotion.
    But he prayed she would not.

Chapter Six
    T HE heat of Tiarnan’s body blazed down Shealy’s back, silken and hot through the thin fabric of her dress. He was aroused. She felt the weight and pressure of his erection against her, knew instinctively that he held on to his self-control by a very thin thread.
    They’d both almost died last night . . . or today . . . or last year, if Tiarnan could be believed—and she thought he could. On a very visceral level, she sensed that Tiarnan was a man of truth and honor. If he said the sky was yellow, then yellow it would be. But right now, he wasn’t saying anything. His breathing was strained, coming in short, hot bursts against her ear. The muscles in his arms bunched tight, but his hands were gentle where they held her, almost apologetic as they stroked.
    Shealy didn’t let herself dwell on anything that tried to crowd into her overloaded brain. At that moment, she needed to feel . She needed to know that however terrifying this place was, she, at least, was real.
    Before she could change her mind, she turned in his arms, feeling him resist for just an instant as he tried to hold her still. Then she pressed against him, her dress twisted at her hips, her face level with his. For a long moment they stared at one another, searching the shadows that concealed their expressions, each seeking mercy, absolution perhaps.
    He spoke with a deep murmur. “I don’t think—”
    “Don’t think,” she said against his mouth.
    She caught a glimpse of pain in his golden brown eyes and for a panicked moment she thought he might reject her and pressed closer, letting him feel her body.
    “Don’t think, Tiarnan.”
    She ran her hands up his bare chest, reveling in the feel of him. He was hard, slabbed muscle beneath hot, silken skin. Every inch of him, strong and hewn. Her fingers slid up the column of his throat then back to tangle in his dark brown hair, twisting in it to bring his lips closer to hers. He made a sound in his throat that lit a fire deep inside her and then he pulled her tight against him with a groan, and that, too, fanned the inferno, as if her having him against his will made the forbidden moment that much sweeter.
    His reluctance didn’t extend to his body though, and he rolled, pulling her beneath the satisfying weight of him, crushing her in a way that screamed sex through every nerve ending. One massive thigh slid between her legs, and she arched up, rubbing against it, thrilling in the friction. He brushed his lips against hers, the kiss soft, and she opened to him, letting him know he was welcome wherever he might want to