Immortal Sacrifice: #4 The Curse of the Templars by Claire Ashgrove Page B
Authors: Claire Ashgrove
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and drew her into his body once more. Her cheek landed on his chest, her hand following as before to rest over his drumming heart.
Despite her obvious upset and the concern that gripped his mind, a sense of overwhelming rightness stole over him. No matter the cause, this was where she belonged. With him. In his embrace where he could feel the trip of her heart, soak up the warmth of her skin, and drown in the comforting scent of honeysuckle.
His hand moved of its own accord, drifting to the nape of her neck to free her bound hair. He dropped the pins on the bed behind her, slipped his fingers into the woven knot. Pulling gently, he loosened the bun until those silken strands of gold slipped through his fingers. She burrowed deeper into his embrace.
Caradoc pressed a hand to the crown of her head and held her tight. How long they sat together in silence, he could not say, but the light filtering through his balcony door faded from grey to utter black. The breeze drifting through the window took on the chill of nightfall. Beyond, music drifted up from the villa’s private harbor.
As her choked sobs gave way to intermittent sniffles, her body relax ed. She rubbed her cheek on his shirt, and the hand she rested at his waist slid around to his back. What had begun as rigid acceptance of his offered comfort yielded to the familiar tenderness they had once known.
He stroked her hair, then slipped his hand beneath her chin and tipped her tear-streaked face to his. Wide and full of all the love he had cherished for too many nights alone, her indigo gaze stole in to touch his soul. He had intended to ask her once again what caused her tears. But under the gentle light that reflected in her eyes, words eluded him. Driven by an unseen force he could not name, he dipped his head and touched his lips to hers.
Chapter 10
The warmth of Caradoc’s mouth assuaged the last of Isabelle’s terror. She closed her eyes as his long lashes fluttered shut, and held her breath, afraid if she moved, he’d come to his senses and withdraw.
He didn’t. Instead, he captured her lower lip and slowly traced it with the tip of his tongue. His warm, moist breath mingled with hers, calling to the part of her soul she’d tried to beat into forgetting him. Dismissing all the reasons she shouldn’t allow him to kiss her, she slid her hand over his collarbone and twined her fingers into his long hair. Straightening her spine a fraction, she lifted into his kiss.
The subtle invitation shattered his hesitancy. He nudged her lips apart and slipped inside to slide his tongue against hers. Bliss rocketed through her body, lighting her up from the inside out. This was what she’d wanted, what she’d craved, for nearly three years. Caradoc holding her, kissing her, telling her all the words he’d once whispered with just the touch of his tongue.
Apologies flowed between them, words she no longer cared about and yet somehow inherently understood. Urgency replaced the gentleness of his mouth. The slow, sensual stroke of his tongue became demanding. Possessive.
Isabelle surrendered with a muffled cry, and they came together with startling ferocity. He hauled her close, eroding every last bit of her rational thought with the press of his strong, hard body. Heat filtered through their clothing, warming her skin and warding away the lingering chill in her veins.
Too long she’d known this only in memory. Too long she’d relied on distant sensations to nurse her soul-deep yearning. But now it was real. Caradoc was here. Kissing her as if nothing had changed between them and they were once more locked away in a cottage in England, lovers who couldn’t get enough of one another.
The slide of his hand along the length of her spine stirred her heartbeat into an erratic rhythm. Each staccato pulse shot zings of ecstasy to every nerve ending she possessed until they all stood on end and her body trembled with sensory overload. His powerful arms
Despite her obvious upset and the concern that gripped his mind, a sense of overwhelming rightness stole over him. No matter the cause, this was where she belonged. With him. In his embrace where he could feel the trip of her heart, soak up the warmth of her skin, and drown in the comforting scent of honeysuckle.
His hand moved of its own accord, drifting to the nape of her neck to free her bound hair. He dropped the pins on the bed behind her, slipped his fingers into the woven knot. Pulling gently, he loosened the bun until those silken strands of gold slipped through his fingers. She burrowed deeper into his embrace.
Caradoc pressed a hand to the crown of her head and held her tight. How long they sat together in silence, he could not say, but the light filtering through his balcony door faded from grey to utter black. The breeze drifting through the window took on the chill of nightfall. Beyond, music drifted up from the villa’s private harbor.
As her choked sobs gave way to intermittent sniffles, her body relax ed. She rubbed her cheek on his shirt, and the hand she rested at his waist slid around to his back. What had begun as rigid acceptance of his offered comfort yielded to the familiar tenderness they had once known.
He stroked her hair, then slipped his hand beneath her chin and tipped her tear-streaked face to his. Wide and full of all the love he had cherished for too many nights alone, her indigo gaze stole in to touch his soul. He had intended to ask her once again what caused her tears. But under the gentle light that reflected in her eyes, words eluded him. Driven by an unseen force he could not name, he dipped his head and touched his lips to hers.
Chapter 10
The warmth of Caradoc’s mouth assuaged the last of Isabelle’s terror. She closed her eyes as his long lashes fluttered shut, and held her breath, afraid if she moved, he’d come to his senses and withdraw.
He didn’t. Instead, he captured her lower lip and slowly traced it with the tip of his tongue. His warm, moist breath mingled with hers, calling to the part of her soul she’d tried to beat into forgetting him. Dismissing all the reasons she shouldn’t allow him to kiss her, she slid her hand over his collarbone and twined her fingers into his long hair. Straightening her spine a fraction, she lifted into his kiss.
The subtle invitation shattered his hesitancy. He nudged her lips apart and slipped inside to slide his tongue against hers. Bliss rocketed through her body, lighting her up from the inside out. This was what she’d wanted, what she’d craved, for nearly three years. Caradoc holding her, kissing her, telling her all the words he’d once whispered with just the touch of his tongue.
Apologies flowed between them, words she no longer cared about and yet somehow inherently understood. Urgency replaced the gentleness of his mouth. The slow, sensual stroke of his tongue became demanding. Possessive.
Isabelle surrendered with a muffled cry, and they came together with startling ferocity. He hauled her close, eroding every last bit of her rational thought with the press of his strong, hard body. Heat filtered through their clothing, warming her skin and warding away the lingering chill in her veins.
Too long she’d known this only in memory. Too long she’d relied on distant sensations to nurse her soul-deep yearning. But now it was real. Caradoc was here. Kissing her as if nothing had changed between them and they were once more locked away in a cottage in England, lovers who couldn’t get enough of one another.
The slide of his hand along the length of her spine stirred her heartbeat into an erratic rhythm. Each staccato pulse shot zings of ecstasy to every nerve ending she possessed until they all stood on end and her body trembled with sensory overload. His powerful arms
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