Wicked Whispers by Tina Donahue Page B

back of his head, her fingers buried in his thick, silky hair to keep him close.
    He laved her nipple, drawing a sound from her that she didn’t recognize. The noise sounded too base, raw with desire. She curled her toes and pushed into him, trying to get closer. He seized the opportunity to squeeze her other breast, using her thoroughly.
    She allowed the pleasure, lost in his embrace, the lusty promise of his strength and heat. Forever wouldn’t be enough to sate her passion. Another moment was out of the question. The horse shifted its weight again, impatient to move on.
    Straightened, Enrique gulped air like a man saved from drowning. Sancha was so lightheaded she gripped his arm for support. Still panting, he kissed her cheek, ear, hair, shoulder.
    “You should always wear a man’s shirt.” He stroked the fabric.
    She laughed, surprising herself. “What if others see me do so?” She gestured to the horizon, sun spilling its first rays across the fields, groves, and forest.
    He swore. “We should have left the hut earlier.”
    They shouldn’t have stopped to enjoy each other. Rather than point out the obvious, she pulled the shirt over her breasts and settled properly on the saddle, surprised she hadn’t fallen off during their passion.
    She was doomed whenever they were close. He’d spoken of her having magical powers granted by the Devil. What of his? A woman had no hope of keeping her wits when faced with his seductive touch.
    With the horse at a gentle speed, he slipped his hand beneath her shirt once more, enjoying her breasts as though they were his to do with as he pleased.
    She had to stop this.
    He rolled her nipples between his thumb and forefinger.
    She released her weight into him. He eased the shirt from her neck and kissed her there, rewarding her carnal surrender.
    She trembled with delight and more than a bit of worry. “People can see.”
    “What people? No one else is on the road.”
    “Ahead, at the castle.” She lifted her hand to show him what she meant. He was so busy nuzzling her neck, he couldn’t have noticed. Again, she drove her fingers through his hair, anchoring him to her.
    Several moments passed before he lifted his face from her neck and rested his chin on her shoulder instead.
    She smiled at the weight of his head, liking it.
    “Who would be up at dawn when they drank and feasted throughout the night?” Before she could answer, he ran his tongue over her lobe, tickling her.
    She giggled. “Stop it.”
    “Why?”
    This was so wrong. She twisted around to tell him. Something moved in the corner of her eye. Facing the castle, she squinted, trying to see the balconies more clearly from this distance. They appeared empty now but she could have sworn someone had been on the one to the left, watching her and Enrique before moving away.
    He tightened his arm around her waist. “Why?”
    “Why what?”
    “Should I stop kissing you?”
    The fact they weren’t betrothed or wed and would never be came to mind, though Sancha wasn’t about to get into such a discussion now. “I saw someone.”
    Enrique pulled his hand from beneath her shirt. “Who?”
    “Isabella?”
    He leaned over her shoulder to see her face. “You seem uncertain.”
    “She moved before I could see her clearly. Who else would be up worrying about our return?”
    “From what I can see, your sister’s only worry is our never being together.”
    She chose to ignore his comment. “We need to get inside before full light.”
    On a loud sigh, he prodded his horse to a faster pace.
    The stable boy and house servants pretended not to notice her odd attire. They bowed graciously, kept their tongues, and continued with their duties.
    Knowing the castle design, she avoided any possible crowds by darting toward a back stairway that led to her bedchamber. Halfway down the hall, Enrique grabbed her hand.
    She looked over. “What?”
    “Show me your books.”
    “Now?”
    “I want to see them.”
    Male and female