Free Enticing the Spymaster (War Girls) by Julie Rowe Page A

into her with short thrusts that did little to relieve the tension filling her body. She still felt empty and on the edge of something explosive and wonderful. “Michael, please.”
    He breathed deep, his chest heaving like a bellows. “Don’t want to hurt you.”
    Damn him, he was going to put her in Bedlam at this rate.
    Shivering in severe anticipation, Jude raked her nails down his back until she reached his magnificent buttocks, then dug them in.
    He groaned a deep-throated surrender and plunged inside her.
    The sharp pain caught her by surprise and she gasped.
    Michael froze above her. “Jude?”
    “I’m fine. Please. Love me.”
    “I do,” he said as he pulled out then pushed relentlessly back in.
    Her back arched and she bit back a cry. She could feel him inside her and it was wonderful. Then he sped up and it went beyond wonderful into divine. He thrust into her, harder and faster, and her body flew apart with a suddenness that shocked her as much as the pleasure did. She screamed, but he caught it with his lips, swallowing her cries. A few more thrusts and he stiffened, pouring his own shout into her mouth.
    Breathing heavy, he collapsed onto her, his head resting against her neck. He kissed along her collarbone as her pulse slowly returned to normal.
    Voices were suddenly audible outside the berth, all male. The air felt cool, and a variety of aches suddenly made themselves known—the one between her legs most of all.
    Michael pulled out of her, making her gasp in both pleasure and pain. His eyes glittered as they met her anxious gaze. She knew what he was about to say. What his sense of honour and duty would oblige him to demand.
    A cool cloak of reason draped itself over her. “Don’t,” she ordered. “Don’t say it. Don’t even think it.”

Chapter Eight
    He opened his mouth—to argue, she was sure—but shouting outside the train dragged his attention away. “We’ve stopped. We’re in Liege.” He peeked out the window and swore under his breath. “Do you remember the officer who watched you tend the wounded the night I arrived?”
    “Yes.”
    “He’s talking to the conductor.” Michael’s hands curled into fists. “We’re going to have to run.”
    She immediately sat up and hopped off the bench, her intention to get dressed as quickly as possible, but her legs were unable to keep her upright.
    He caught her before she could hit the floor, hauling her against his hot body, one arm behind her back, the other under her buttocks.
    Jude gasped at the intimate position, blushing all over again at being in contact with his hard muscles and soft skin. “I’m sorry,” she breathed out.
    His eyes were shuttered, his mouth a thin line. “How badly did I hurt you?”
    “You didn’t.”
    He snorted but released her, keeping a hand on her waist to steady her.
    Unfortunately, she needed it. Getting her buttons done on her plain beige dress seemed to take forever. Finally it was accomplished, and she turned to ask him if she looked presentable.
    He’d gotten dressed himself, looking completely normal. But as she faced him, he scooped her face between his hands and kissed her like he had while inside her.
    A helpless little moan slipped out of her mouth.
    “There’s no time now, but you and I...have unfinished business to discuss.”
    She wanted to tell him he was mistaken, but more shouting and the sound of running feet inside the train had her jerking out of his grasp. He examined her face, nodded once, then opened the door and looked down the hall. He held out his hand and she let him pull her from the room.
    They walked, at a sedate pace that made her want to scream, towards the front of the train. Once the locomotive began to move again, they quickly stepped off near the end of the platform. Several small groups of soldiers moved around the perimeter, searching for something—or someone. But they didn’t give Jude or Michael a second glance.
    She overheard shouted orders to search the