Page 73 of Falling for the Knight

“You’re killing me, Tristan.”

And he was. She didn’t know what to expect next. His fingers, his mouth, or—

Hannah’s eyes flew open. He stretched his body back over her in an instant. What a tease!

“Mmmm,” he said, his finger slipping inside. “You’re ready.”

She nearly screamed in frustration. “I told you as much,” she said, her hands reaching back to grip something, anything.

He withdrew his fingers and moved up, finally entering her. Gently, slowly, until she could not stand it any longer. Hannah reached around him and pulled Tristan down to her, the movement apparently the only encouragement he needed to thrust inside in truth. He filled her, inch by inch, until they were finally, gloriously, joined at last.

When he began to move, Hannah silently congratulated herself on finding a man who literally had professional training. She didn’t even care at the moment how he had come by it. Tristan moved, and she with him, until she finally snapped. Already, her climax was near. When his hand slipped under her, squeezing her buttocks and pulling them toward him, she lost control.

Her pulsating release came hard, squeezing and gripping this man who would be her husband. His groan told Hannah the pleasure wasn’t hers alone. With a sound that was all male, all Tristan, he collapsed against her as she reveled in the aftermath of the singular most amazing bout of lovemaking in the entire world.

Across centuries.

Nothing, not even the promise of a piece of chocolate peanut butter cake, could convince her to leave now.

* * *

“We are getting married tomorrow.”

Tristan lay down next to Hannah and attempted to catch his breath. He was not sure precisely what had just happened, but he knew he already wanted it again.

When he looked over, Hannah, lying on her side with her head propped in her hand, was smiling. And the minx was not being shy in her perusal.

“What are you looking at?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“You.”

They needed to talk, but if she kept looking at him that way, nothing would get accomplished this night. In their rush to the bed, they had not bothered with covers. So Tristan remedied that by pulling them down from underneath them and then covering both himself and his intended.

She laughed. “Why in God’s name are you doing that?”

He pulled her toward him, also not a very wise idea. They were fully covered now, but the feel of her against him was just as enticing as seeing her luscious curves on full display.

“We need to talk,” he answered.

Hannah ran her hand from his shoulder down to his waist, the simple touch stirring his desire. Their talk would need to be short. But he needed to be sure.

“Do you understand what you’ve agreed to, Hannah?”

Her hand froze, though unfortunately it did so on his buttocks. He squeezed them under her fingers, teasing her and tormenting himself.

“I do,” she said, her hand moving dangerously closer.

“You will become the Lady of Saxford—”

“And you will treat me as you do Gerard,” she finished.

“Then I should not do this?” He kissed her, innocently enough, until her tongue touched his own.

Tristan pulled back, enjoying seeing Hannah in his bed.

“Certainly not,” she teased. “But as a partner,” she said more seriously. “I have some ideas on how to make Saxford more efficient, starting with—”

“Save the details for later, partner,” he said, placing his finger on her lips. “When we find your sisters, what if they want to leave?” This he said more seriously.