with you makes me feel more alive than I’ve ever felt.”
Hazel stared at him, stunned. No suitor had ever said anything so astonishing to her before, anything so heartfelt. And he hasn’t said a word about my face . She realized her mouth was open again. She closed it hastily.
“I think we suit each other,” Tam said seriously. “I think we’d have an interesting marriage. A good marriage.”
So do I.
Tam was watching her intently. No laughter gleamed in his eyes. She saw tension in his face, tension in the set of his shoulders. Did he think she’d refuse him? Was he bracing himself for rejection?
Hazel found her voice. “I think you’re right. We do suit each other.”
“Is that a yes?” Tam asked cautiously.
“Yes.” Laughter bubbled up her throat. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Tam No-Name.”
“Truly?” Joy and disbelief mingled on his face.
“Truly.”
Tam grinned widely. “Now would be a good time for another kiss, Hazel Miller.”
Hazel scrambled to her feet and went to him.
Tam met her halfway. He caught her face in his hands, his fingers cradling her jaw, his thumbs warm on her cheeks. “Hazel . . .” he said. “Sweet, tart Hazel. I love you.” And he bent his head and kissed her.
“I love you, too,” Hazel told him, when they came up for air. “You make me laugh more than anyone I know.”
“That’s why you’re marrying me? Because I make you laugh?” Tam sounded taken aback.
“One of a great many reasons.” She stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his.
Tam cupped the back of her head in one hand and kissed her again. When he finally lifted his mouth, she was dazed, dizzy.
“Tam Goodkiss,” Hazel said, trying to catch her breath. “That’s what I’m going to call you.”
“Goodkiss?” Tam grinned down at her. “I could live with that.” And then he kissed her again, even more thoroughly. They ended up lying on the grass—Hazel lost track of exactly how—but Tam’s body was long and lean and warm beneath her, and her fingers were buried in his hair, anchoring his head, and she was kissing him as if he were air and water and life itself, and without him she’d die.
She became aware of Tam’s erection, pressing against her belly. A delicious shiver went through her. She rocked her hips, felt Tam shudder, heard him gasp. “This time we’re not stopping,” she told him breathlessly.
“We’re not?” Tam said, equally breathless.
“No.”
“Well, in that case, we’re wearing far too many clothes . . .”
----
HAZEL HAD LAIN with Drewet twice. Both times had been hasty and furtive, the first time painful, the second merely uncomfortable. Sex with Tam was none of those things. Sex with Tam was laughter and teasing and pleasure. So much pleasure. Pleasure until Hazel was almost drowning in it.
Tam laid a blanket on the grass and peeled off her clothes, kissing the skin he bared. Shoulders, breasts, midriff. And then her inner thighs, his mouth tickling, making her quiver and squirm. His hands stroked up her legs, and his fingers roamed into the thatch of hair and delved inside her, and then his mouth wandered there, too.
Hazel gasped his name, shocked.
Tam chuckled and kissed her there again. His fingers coaxed, his tongue teased, his teeth nipped. Hazel heard herself moan—and then waves of pleasure came and she did drown for a moment.
When she swam back up, Tam was laughing.
He settled himself between her legs and braced his arms on either side of her. His erection pressed hot and hard and insistent against her entrance. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
There was no pain when Tam sank into her; instead, there was a jolt of pure, raw pleasure. Her back arched, her hips rose to meet him, and a groan came from her throat.
Some time later, Hazel drowned again.
Afterwards, lying in Tam’s arms, the ability to think slowly returned. Hazel became aware of her surroundings: the coarse wool blanket and cool night air, the heat of Tam’s body,
Hazel stared at him, stunned. No suitor had ever said anything so astonishing to her before, anything so heartfelt. And he hasn’t said a word about my face . She realized her mouth was open again. She closed it hastily.
“I think we suit each other,” Tam said seriously. “I think we’d have an interesting marriage. A good marriage.”
So do I.
Tam was watching her intently. No laughter gleamed in his eyes. She saw tension in his face, tension in the set of his shoulders. Did he think she’d refuse him? Was he bracing himself for rejection?
Hazel found her voice. “I think you’re right. We do suit each other.”
“Is that a yes?” Tam asked cautiously.
“Yes.” Laughter bubbled up her throat. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Tam No-Name.”
“Truly?” Joy and disbelief mingled on his face.
“Truly.”
Tam grinned widely. “Now would be a good time for another kiss, Hazel Miller.”
Hazel scrambled to her feet and went to him.
Tam met her halfway. He caught her face in his hands, his fingers cradling her jaw, his thumbs warm on her cheeks. “Hazel . . .” he said. “Sweet, tart Hazel. I love you.” And he bent his head and kissed her.
“I love you, too,” Hazel told him, when they came up for air. “You make me laugh more than anyone I know.”
“That’s why you’re marrying me? Because I make you laugh?” Tam sounded taken aback.
“One of a great many reasons.” She stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his.
Tam cupped the back of her head in one hand and kissed her again. When he finally lifted his mouth, she was dazed, dizzy.
“Tam Goodkiss,” Hazel said, trying to catch her breath. “That’s what I’m going to call you.”
“Goodkiss?” Tam grinned down at her. “I could live with that.” And then he kissed her again, even more thoroughly. They ended up lying on the grass—Hazel lost track of exactly how—but Tam’s body was long and lean and warm beneath her, and her fingers were buried in his hair, anchoring his head, and she was kissing him as if he were air and water and life itself, and without him she’d die.
She became aware of Tam’s erection, pressing against her belly. A delicious shiver went through her. She rocked her hips, felt Tam shudder, heard him gasp. “This time we’re not stopping,” she told him breathlessly.
“We’re not?” Tam said, equally breathless.
“No.”
“Well, in that case, we’re wearing far too many clothes . . .”
----
HAZEL HAD LAIN with Drewet twice. Both times had been hasty and furtive, the first time painful, the second merely uncomfortable. Sex with Tam was none of those things. Sex with Tam was laughter and teasing and pleasure. So much pleasure. Pleasure until Hazel was almost drowning in it.
Tam laid a blanket on the grass and peeled off her clothes, kissing the skin he bared. Shoulders, breasts, midriff. And then her inner thighs, his mouth tickling, making her quiver and squirm. His hands stroked up her legs, and his fingers roamed into the thatch of hair and delved inside her, and then his mouth wandered there, too.
Hazel gasped his name, shocked.
Tam chuckled and kissed her there again. His fingers coaxed, his tongue teased, his teeth nipped. Hazel heard herself moan—and then waves of pleasure came and she did drown for a moment.
When she swam back up, Tam was laughing.
He settled himself between her legs and braced his arms on either side of her. His erection pressed hot and hard and insistent against her entrance. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
There was no pain when Tam sank into her; instead, there was a jolt of pure, raw pleasure. Her back arched, her hips rose to meet him, and a groan came from her throat.
Some time later, Hazel drowned again.
Afterwards, lying in Tam’s arms, the ability to think slowly returned. Hazel became aware of her surroundings: the coarse wool blanket and cool night air, the heat of Tam’s body,
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