Free The Marriage Ultimatum (City of Dreams Series) by Charlotte O'Shay

shivering, pulled on his jeans, then put a match to the logs arranged in the fireplace. Two days in with no heat and the house held a pervasive chill. But there was a hearth in every room save the bathrooms. He couldn’t believe that he’d lacked the self-restraint to see to the fire before making love to Sabrina. No, he hadn’t seen to their comfort with a fire, and even more surprising to him, he hadn’t remembered protection until she’d reminded him. Both were uncharacteristic lapses on his part.
    She lay on her side under the duvet with only the translucent skin of her temple and the tangle of her hair visible on the pillow.
    He’d already memorized that pale perfect body, the pouting globes of her breasts, the long legs. His body tightened back into readiness. He knew that her unpainted lips, and unpolished fingernails and toes were a breath of fresh air to him. Already he knew how she buried her face in his neck to soften the cries and gasps of her passion. He knew the rough scratch of his unshaven jaw had marked her pale flesh from her throat to her thighs with pink wheals that he’d soothed away with his tongue. He knew that the color of the soft curls between her thighs exactly matched the cascading dark copper strands on the pillow.
    A rush of something like possessiveness filled his gut and he shook his head. He didn’t do possessive. He turned away to stare into the fire. He would let her sleep. For a short while.
    ****
    Sabrina stretched, the heat of the fireplace against her back made clothing superfluous. Vlad slept at her side, clad in jeans. His chest, bronzed copper by the glow of the fire, rose and fell in a mesmerizing, even rhythm. Her stomach grumbled into the silence. With a grimace, she slipped into his discarded shirt and crept back to the kitchen to forage. He was still asleep when she returned with two mugs of soup and crackers. She set the tray on the low table near one of the windows and plopped into the easy chair alongside it. She sipped from her mug and savored the view. His long body dominated the bed. She blushed as she thought of the heavy weight of him on her and inside of her. She was the luckiest woman on the planet. A renewed surge of heat pulsed between her thighs, and she tucked her legs underneath her in the armchair.
    She thought of letting him sleep but then recalled the nightmare of last night. It had been horrendous to witness the first time, and she had no wish for either of them to repeat the experience.
    She pitched her voice low.
    “Hey, soup’s on.”
    Vlad came awake quickly and with none of the angst of the previous night. He levered himself up in the bed and took the mug from her extended hand.
    The canned chicken noodle soup was something that was on Sabrina’s menu every other day of the week, but today the plain fare tasted like the nectar of the gods.
    Should she be embarrassed to sit like this and revel in his flawless body on display while she sat splayed in the chair, in his buttoned down shirt and nothing else? She wasn’t. She examined his body with satisfaction, a pleasant ache making itself felt in her muscles. Vlad had made her feel amazing, and she wanted that feeling again.
    “Thanks for the soup.” His voice was gritty with sleep, and he lifted his already empty mug in salute.
    Sabrina waved a hand, smiling.
    “You have a fine collection of canned goods in the pantry, perfect for the occasional hurricane power outage.”
    ****
    He loved her smile. Loved? No, it was just that she had a great smile. It wasn’t a programmed show of teeth; it was big, spontaneous and genuine. And how sweet that he was on the receiving end.
    “And for dessert?”
    His voice had deepened a notch, his intent clear, his gaze trained on the spot where the hem of his shirt did not quite close over her thighs.
    She squirmed as he focused the full heat of his gaze on her legs.
    “Um, I did notice some canned peaches….”
    He raised an eyebrow. He was enjoying the