Free Tempest of Passion by Elyzabeth M. VaLey Page A

her.
    “ Emily.” This time it was a snarl that traveled straight to
her groin.
    “ Mr. Dalton.” She coughed, clearing her hoarse voice. “I beg
you to release me.”
    “ No, not until you look at me.”
    Emily sighed. Biting down on her lips, she opened her eyes.
Her heart fluttered and dropped to her stomach in distress. He was
gazing at her with emotions she could not decipher but they warned
her that she was in danger––her heart was in very grave danger. She
couldn’t allow it. She struggled against him but he held her
tighter.
    “ Do not struggle. Just listen to me for a moment. Have you
ever thought that a marriage like the one you wish could exist? A
marriage with a man that respected you as a person? A marriage with
a man that desired you as a woman and not, as you put it, as a
brood mare. A marriage full of laughter and passion, companionship,
as well as struggles. Have you ever thought about it? Not every man
is the same. Not every person is the same.” William leaned closer
and Emily forced herself to keep her eyes open.
    “ I have dreamed of having you as my wife almost since the day
I met you. Getting to know you better has left me no doubt that you
are the woman for me.” Emily tensed in his arms. “I love your
feisty direct nature, I love your ironic smirk, but I love best
when you let your guard down and smile. I long to see you laugh, to
hold you in my arms and protect you not only from crazy coachmen
but also from anything that could hurt you.”
    “ Mr. Dalton,” the words came out like a breathy sigh, as if
she were lovestruck.
    “ William. Call me William.” His lips touched hers, softly,
barely a brush. Her heart climbed back to her chest, an erratic
beat that reminded her of a drum roll. It was waiting, waiting for
more, waiting for him to claim her fully before it burst into happy
song. She couldn’t let it happen. She couldn’t let him.
    “ William, please.” She was begging, but she didn’t care. She
wanted him gone, away from her, yet, when he moved back, when his
head lifted and his eyes bore into hers a terrible sense of loss
swept through her so hard she felt the trickle of tears at the back
of her eyes.
    “ I’m not leaving you,” he whispered, before
tasting her lips again. “ ’What made me
love thee? Let that persuade thee there's something extraordinary
in thee. I cannot: but I love thee… none but thee… and thou
deservest it.’” He quoted Shakespeare.
Words he’d already used in his letters. Emily whimpered. The sound
came deep from within her as he brushed his lips against hers once
more. Softly, gently, like the touch of a feather. He was so strong
and yet he touched her as if she was made of porcelain. Again and
again, his lips claimed hers, slowly, their pressure increasing
along with the drum beating in her chest. More, more, more. Her hands on his
shoulders tightened, her nails digging onto his flesh as she hung
onto him for some sort of balance. Her head was swimming, as she
was falling, falling hard and fast against an invisible
floor.
    William
grasped her bottom lip between his teeth, drawing it out, nipping
at it playfully and making her gasp as arousal slammed into her
with the force of a bullet. His tongue touched hers at that moment
and she felt her knees buckle. He held her upright, one hand
tightly wound around her waist and the other cupping her head,
tilting it to the side so he could have better access into her warm
recess. His tongue brushed across hers repeatedly, caressing it
intimately. Someone moaned. She moaned. She realized with a start
that the desperate sound was coming from her.
    Caution and all fear vanished fully as he sucked her tongue
into his mouth. Instead, she found herself responding. Her tongue
darted out, cautiously reaching, exploring the softness of his. How
could a man taste so good? She boldly slid her tongue against his.
She craved more. William groaned and a peculiar surge of power
rushed through her. Her hands