Free Kissed; Christian by Tanya Anne Crosby Page A

lifted her delicate chin with a finger. “Every time you look at me, ma belle vie , I see... I see reverence. Trust me when I tell you I’m the last soul upon this earth to deserve it.”
    “Nay! Never say so! You are—”
    He lifted a finger to her lips. “Hush, my love,” he commanded her.
    He brushed a wayward curl from her face. His fingers caressed her sun-flushed cheek, moving to the silky thickness of her hair, gliding through it reverently, catching finally at the blue satin binding that kept her wild curls so neat and tidy. He drew the ribbon free, releasing her glorious hair.
    Without warning, he drew her down beside him and rolled atop her, pinning her beneath him in one easy movement. She didn’t protest. Her breath caught and she cried out.
    There was no fear in her lovely eyes, none at all, and relief surged through him. God help him, he doubted he could restrain himself much longer. And this moment, he wanted more than merely to soothe his troubled spirit. He needed to appease his body’s beastly hunger. He went about each day in a semi aroused state, and in her presence it became unbearable. What manner of hold did she have upon him that he would subject himself to such monstrous torture? That he would feel driven to protect her from himself? He wanted her so desperately that he actually ached with his need of her, and still he restrained himself.
    Jessie knew she should object—indeed, knew she must ! But Lord, how she wanted him to kiss her again!
    Her soul ached for it.
    Her mouth craved the feel of him.
    Would he taste again as he had yesterday? A heady mixture of brandy and musky maleness that she’d savored again last eve while she’d dreamt of him. Even her body seemed to cry out for it now.
    A knot formed in her breast, constricting painfully.
    Nay, she’d not stop him... she very much desired this—needed it. Swallowing her dutiful words of protest, she let him move atop her, and sighed...
    What a wanton she was that she would allow him such wicked liberties.
    Unbidden, Eliza’s words invaded her thoughts. Do what you will... say what you must. Charm him to your heart’s content. But I warn you... keep your virtue intact.
    As his lips touched her own, she began to quake. A single tear escaped, unnoticed, for he was kissing her at long last and did not see. It didn’t matter, she didn’t want him to stop—she thought she’d die if he did. She clung to him as though her life depended upon it. And she thought it might.
    Feeling her shudders, he whispered softly against her throat, “Have no fear, mon amour.”
    He stopped, peering down at her, and swore, “I shall take nothing you do not freely give.”
    But that, dear God, was precisely what she feared. This moment, everything she had was his to take—everything! She wanted to give him all that she had.
    “Open your eyes for me, dearling.”
    She obeyed him, opening shimmering eyes.
    The hunger evident in his gaze made her heart fly into her throat.
    “My God, but they are the rarest of jewels,” he whispered softly, passionately. “You are... so lovely... so very lovely, Jessie.”
    His hand slid firmly to her waist, then to her hip, exploring...
    Remembering the way she’d looked standing in the brook that first day, barefoot and wide-eyed, Christian hardened fully.
    A vision of slim calves and shapely thighs besieged him and a shudder coursed through him as he bent to kiss her lips once more, all the while gathering the hem of her gown into his fist, drawing it up to expose her beautiful legs to the warm, sultry sun... to his hungry touch. Once again she’d forsworn her petticoats, and he whispered a prayer of thanks—ignoble as it might be—that she seemed to shun that one vestige of propriety.
    She wanted this, too, he told himself—and Christ! he thought he’d die without it.
    Her hand flew out to stop his ascent—instinct, he thought, for she didn’t end the kiss. Though he rarely prayed, he did so now, fervently.