Fiona tugged at the knotted sheet until she revealed the hard, solid length of him. Running her fingers along the satiny skin, Brogan shuddered.
“What are ye going to do?” he asked.
“The same thing ye did to me.”
He started to shake his head, but she ignored him, leaning down until her hair tickled his thighs and belly, and then she slid her tongue along the length of his arousal. His skin was hot velvet.
With trembling fingers, she gripped his shaft, holding him steady while she familiarized herself with his very hot, throbbing appendage. She’d never kissed a man’s cock before…and the very act of doing it left her drunk with power and full of longing.
Brogan let out a curse under his breath, his muscles tightening, a hand running through her hair.
She licked again, circling her tongue around the tip, and he groaned.
“Take me into your mouth,” he begged.
And she was quick to deliver, wrapping her lips around him and sliding him deep inside. Brogan let out another curse, and she grinned as she slid back up. He liked this a lot. As much as she’d liked it when he did it to her. She sucked him in, then slowly released until his hips bucked upward and he begged her to go faster.
One hand gripped around his shaft, she increased her pace until he was muttering a string of curses and practically bucking off the bed in his enthusiasm to finish in that same earth-shattering way she had. He stiffened, crying out, and attempted to pull away, but she held tight until he’d spilled his warm seed on her tongue.
“Good God,” he groaned. “That was…” He let out a long sigh.
“Incredible?” she asked.
“Aye.”
“But we are still no’ married?” she asked, needing to be reassured.
“Nay.”
She collapsed against him, and he used part of the sheet to wipe at the mess on his belly.
“I think I’m going to like being fake married,” she teased, her hand on his chest, her head on his shoulder.
Brogan wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, sharing his warmth.
“I could get used to this,” he murmured against her head.
Fiona nodded, not saying anything. His words and all they’d just shared collided in her mind.
Though they were fake married, she still wasn’t dumb enough to think sharing such intimacies wasn’t exactly that—intimate. They were two consenting adults, and the bliss she’d felt in his arms had been enough to temporarily take away all of the worry and fear.
Even now, it was starting to creep back in around the edges. She closed her eyes tight, trying to force it back. Brogan trailed a hand down her back, and she shivered.
“Are ye cold?” He lifted the coverlet up over them both.
Nay, she’d not been cold at all. In fact, she was a lot further away from cold than she’d ever been before. Still she nodded, not wanting to share her feelings with him completely.
Fiona snuggled closer, feeling safe and comfortable in his arms. This couldn’t happen again. And it probably wouldn’t, because after tonight they’d be on the road again, the men surrounding them when they camped at night. When they finally did meet up with the prince’s entourage, there would be no privacy or shared rooms—and Ian wouldn’t stand for it, might even restart the decades-old clan feud in retaliation. They could drop the facade of being wed, and then they’d have to answer for lying.
But for now, right now, they had this moment. This one night.
She snuggled closer, one leg tossed over his, the hair on his calf tickling her foot. Milla scratched on the door to leave the room, and Fiona gingerly crawled around Brogan who was already softly snoring, deep into sleep.
Wrapping an extra blanket around her, she opened the door to their room and let Milla out into the hall. The sounds from belowstairs were quiet. So Fiona crept down the stairs, following Milla who padded toward the door at the rear of the tavern. Bodies curled up over tables in the tavern itself didn’t stir as she passed. She let the dog outside and watched Milla take off toward the barn in the moonlight. Shadows bounced off the ground, and she half expected some brigand to leap out at her. The bliss of the night spent in bed with Brogan was like a dream, shattered only by her fear of what would happen next.
Fiona shivered, hugging the blanket tighter, wishing she’d stopped to put on her boots. Her feet were freezing, and the cold from outside seeped over her bare toes and inched its way up her legs.
Fiona watched for a few minutes in case Milla came back, but she didn’t. The hound would find the men in the barn, sleep with the horses. And so Fiona crept back up the stairs to the chamber she shared with Brogan.
As quietly as she could, she shut the door and crawled back into bed, curling her body around his in an effort to regain some warmth.
Brogan mumbled something in his sleep and then pulled her into his arms, tucking her against him. If only this were a moment she could experience every day for the rest of her life.
Twelve
Brogan lay on the bed beside Fiona, watching in the dim light of the fire as her chest rose and fell, her beautiful face peaceful. Gone was the pinched look between her brows. The slight frown had disappeared. Her features relaxed, a phenomenon he didn’t think happened very often.
Something had changed between them tonight that shook him to the core, irreversibly transforming him in a way that left him feeling unsteady. The sparked tension that had been increasing since the moment he’d first laid eyes on her had finally exploded in passion. And rather than leaving him sated and with the ability to walk away, his desire for her had only grown. He wanted, needed more. Things between them would never be the same. And that was damn scary.
It wasn’t just that they’d shared physical intimacy. As he’d pointed out to her earlier in the evening, he’d shared that with dozens of women. Per his usual, he’d tried to pull away at the last minute, choosing not to spend anywhere near her—even if it was her mouth. A reflex he’d honed for years and years. But Fiona hadn’t let him, and he’d not had the power to resist her.
There had been one other major difference in tonight’s dalliance besides the fact that they’d opened up so deeply to each other that he’d allowed himself to lose control, and it was that he’d pleasured her with his mouth.
Brogan didn’t do that with other women. His fingers, aye, his cock, always, but his mouth? Nay. To him, that had always been an act one step too close to intimacy. But the moment he’d pressed Fiona up against the wall, all he could think about was how she’d taste, what she’d sound like when she climaxed, and how much he wanted to be between her thighs.
Even now, he thought about waking her for another go of it, but they both needed their rest. And he needed his mind to calm down enough to let him do so. If he were to give himself an accurate assessment, he would say that so far, he was failing miserably at this fake marriage. Because all he wanted to do was be with her. Know her, touch her.