Free Winter's Night by Sherrilyn Kenyon

sigh, he collapsed on top of her and she reveled in the weight of him.
    It had been too long. Far too long.
    O’Connell couldn’t breathe or move. Not until the throbbing returned to his arm and foot. “Ow,” he breathed.
    â€œOw?” she repeated.
    â€œMy foot,” he said as he rolled off her. “It’s hurting again.”
    A blush stained her cheeks. She rose slowly from the floor and reached her hand out to him. “I think I know a way to make you forget about that.”
    He smiled and rose to her invitation. She took him to the bed and laid him back against the soft, feather mattress.
    Surrendering himself to her whims, he watched as she crawled up his body like a naked wildcat. She wriggled her hips and then straddled his body.
    O’Connell moaned at the feel of the hairs at the juncture of her thighs caressing his bare flesh as she sat down upon his stomach. She leaned forward, spilling her breasts across his chest as she wiggled that delectable bottom against him.
    â€œNow let’s see how much I remember,” she whispered before burying her lips just below his ear. “Does this help the pain?”
    â€œA little,” he moaned.
    She trailed kisses over his skin until she got to his chest. She stroked his nipple with her tongue and he hissed in pleasure. She nibbled him ever so gently.
    â€œAnd that?” she asked.
    â€œA little better than before,” he said.
    â€œStill not gone entirely?”
    He shook his head.
    â€œWell, then, let’s see what it takes.”
    She moved to his side and as she bent over him her hair fell against his flesh, raising chills all over him. She lashed his chest with her hair, over and over, and he arched his back against the pleasurable beating.
    â€œBetter?” she asked.
    â€œSomewhat.”
    She arched a brow. “Somewhat?”
    He shrugged.
    Her smile was wicked and warm. “In that case…”
    She lowered her head and took him into her mouth. O’Connell pressed his head back into the pillows as his entire body jerked in pleasure.
    â€œCatherine,” he said hoarsely. “Next time, you can set fire to my entire body if that’s the cure for it.”
    She laughed against him. “Don’t tempt me,” she said, looking up an instant before she returned to the part of him that was steadily growing larger. Harder.
    Before he could move, she straddled him again and lowered herself on his shaft. “How’s that?”
    â€œHot and wet, just like I like it,” he said.
    And this time when they came, it was in unison.
    O’Connell didn’t know what time they finally fell asleep. All he knew was that for the first time in five years, his body had been fully sated. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this good. This free.
    He cradled Catherine’s slumbering form against his chest and buried his face in her hair. If he could, he would die right then and there.
    Because with the dawn that would invariably come, he knew he would have to leave her. And he would rather be dead than walk out on her again.
    But he had no choice.

4
    Catherine awoke to the sound and feel of Michael’s breathing in her ear, to the warmth of his body pressed against her own. It had been so long since she last had the pleasure of him sleeping by her side.
    How could she have told him she didn’t remember, when all she did was remember the feel of him? The smell of him? The essence of him?
    And how could she ever reject a man she loved so dearly?
    Catherine opened her eyes and saw him lying on his side, facing her. His left leg snuggled between hers, he had his left arm draped possessively across her body.
    Impulsively, she brushed the brown wisps of hair off his forehead and placed a tender kiss to his brow.
    â€œI still love you,” she whispered, knowing he couldn’t hear her. That was one thing about Michael—once he slept, it would take the end of the