Chapter 4

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With her still seated on the counter, that's how Liam wanted her, he decided. Of course, he could take her anywhere in the castle, it wouldn't matter. His want was purely for her. It just so happened she was handily in his kitchen.

He didn't desire the quick flick of passion from last time; he wanted to devour her in maddeningly slow bites. But he didn't do well with limitations and knew himself well enough to know he broke rules just as fast as he made them.

Not that he was making rules, as he firmly believed rules were not only made to be broken, but they were made by people who desperately wanted to break them, rendering the act of rule creation utterly ridiculous in the first place.

No rules, no boundaries, no limitations. He simply wanted Emerson Brown.

Up against that thin line of restraint, his lips lingered near hers, playing, teasing, sampling, until her mouth opened. Tongues tasted, finally, desperately, and with an enduring familiarity and fervent curiosity, they each took, each demanded more.

He heard her breath hitch as his fingers slid under the hem of her snug pencil skirt that callously kept her legs tightly together, hugging curves. He could appreciate the skirt and what it did for her incredible figure but wanted it gone.

Slowly, his fingers dragged up the edge to the top of her thighs, his purposeful hands trailing on her silky skin.

Heavy-lidded eyes watched him, he knew it, and he looked at her, ready, and gently guided her legs open.

He had to see her, feel her, touch her.

Sliding the flimsy black lace aside, his body demanded with a drastic ferocity not at all designed for patient nibbling. Nothing short of everything with her would be enough.

"You're even more beautiful than I remember," he murmured at the site of her bare skin, smooth as sin. His thumb glided along and dipped in to find her warm and wet and ready.

Her eyes closed and her head tilted back and he watched with satisfaction as she soaked in the pleasure. He'd remembered that about her and had forgotten how powerful it was, to please a woman who embraced pleasure for the sake of it.

Vital with demand, ready to take, he ripped at the lace and tossed it away.

Her eyes opened, surprise filling her face, and after the briefest of smiles, reached for the buttons of his jeans.

He was huge, just as she remembered him, and filled with just as much potency beneath the quiet confidence. Pulling him out, her fingers feeling along the tip of him, she guided him toward her.

Their bodies touched, hard and soft, skin and heat, meeting just at the surface.

Each of them watched where their bodies joined together, fascinated, enticed by the other.

On a moan, he slid further into her, held her hips as sensations rippled through her. She'd forgotten what it felt like—to desire a man, to be fulfilled by a man. She'd forgotten all of it.

And now, Liam Wyatt was fulfilling her.

Matching her need, meeting her demands, his body, slick with sweaty heat in the dead of winter, glistening in the glow from the reflection of the frozen white wonderland outside, moved in hers.

Feeling the power of having him inside of her, touching her in all the right places, sensations overwhelmed, rippled through, and her body pushed and pulled as she throbbed alive and went flying fast over the edge of all reason.

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