Winter's Night by Sherrilyn Kenyon Page B

want to. All she wanted was to savor him like she’d done all those years ago.
    Volcanic heat poured through her body, pooling itself between her legs as she ached for him in the most primitive of ways. She wanted him desperately. And only he could pacify the aching heat that demanded his body inside hers.
    He was her husband and the part of her that still loved him came rushing to the forefront. Under the assault of his scorching kiss, that part of her took possession of her common sense and forced it to flee her mind.
    Before she knew what was happening, she felt her hair fall down around her shoulders and it was only then that he pulled back from her lips to kiss her cheek, her eyelid, the tip of her nose. His lips were hot and moist as they branded a fiery trail over her face.
    â€œMy precious Catherine,” he whispered in her ear. “Let me love you the way you deserve to be loved.”
    She felt his hands unbuttoning her shirtwaist. She wanted to tell him no, but in truth she couldn’t. The words lodged in her throat because deep down she wanted him. She had always wanted him, and no matter how badly he had hurt her, there was still a part of her that needed him.
    And she gave herself over to that part.
    He opened her shirtwaist, then buried those hot lips against the tops of her breasts as his hands reached around back to unlace her corset. She sighed in pleasure as she buried her face in his hair and inhaled the wicked, warm scent that was her husband.
    O’Connell’s head swam from the scent of her as he buried his face between the soft mounds of her breasts and licked her salty skin. It had been so long since he tasted her, felt her, and he knew that he would spend the rest of this night making up for the five years they had been apart.
    The five long years he had been without a woman.
    In her arms, he had always felt that anything was possible. That he could do anything, be anything. No other person had ever lifted him to the heights of goodness and pleasure that she did.
    She was the one truth in his life that he could depend on. The one person he truly needed.
    He ran his tongue over the tops of her breasts, delighting in the way she shivered in his arms as he struggled with the corset laces.
    And at that moment he despised whoever had invented the cursed thing. It had to be some old, doddering matron seeking to preserve her daughter’s virtue, for no man would ever design so inconvenient a contraption.
    At last he loosened it to where he could free her breasts to his hungry mouth.
    Catherine cupped his head to her as she stifled a moan of pure pleasure. His hand caressed her swollen breasts, drawing the taut nipples so tight she could barely stand it. Heat tore through her body as an ache started deep in the center of her. It was a familiar longing that she only felt in his presence.
    No other man had ever aroused her the way he did. No one. And she doubted if anyone ever could.
    And then his hands were under her skirt, stroking and teasing as they skimmed over her calves and thighs. One hand cupped her buttocks as he wrapped his other arm around her and drew her up tight against him.
    He reclaimed her lips for one hungry, pulsating kiss, then pulled back.
    He cupped her face in his hands and tilted her head to look at him. His lips were swollen from her kisses and he stared at her as if he were dreaming.
    The need and hunger in that silver-gray gaze mesmerized her. Her breathing ragged, she could do nothing but stare up at him in wonderment.
    â€œSay my name,” he demanded, stroking her swollen lips gently with his knuckles.
    She hesitated.
    But what was the point? She had already surrendered herself to him. And for some reason she couldn’t fathom, she wanted to please him.
    â€œMichael,” she breathed.
    He smiled, then returned to torture her mouth with sweet bliss.
    He rose with her in his arms. “Where’s your room?”
    â€œIn there,” she said,