Gently, he swept her hair away from her neck, then pressed a lingering kiss there. Poppy’s knees went weak.
“I am tired of pretending,” he said. “Of spending another agonizing night lying next to you and trying to think of anything else but shagging you until my c**k gives out.”
“Win.” Her voice croaked. She wanted to turn around, to tell him how much she needed him. And yet she was frozen.
“No more, Poppy.” His tongue traced a heated path along her neck, back to that spot just below her ear that made her shiver and flush. She did not move, barely breathed. Win’s attention was a fragile thing, a dream that she might wake from and find herself alone again. As if sensing her thoughts, his touch grew stronger as he ran his palm up to her throat.
His smoky voice was at her ear. “No more acting as though I am not so utterly in love with my wife that it tears my heart out not to hold her. Not another night, Poppy. It makes a mockery of what I feel for you.”
With agonizing deliberation, his fingers went to the buttons of her dressing gown. Her breath caught just as he slipped the first button free. “From the very first moment I saw you, you were all I thought about.”
Cool air crept beneath the widening gap in her dressing gown. She stood before the open window, facing the night, her pulse racing and her breath unsteady.
“All I wanted.” He paused, and then his hand slipped underneath her open gown. His palm met with her bare breast, and he groaned low and deep. “All I want.”
Gently he played with her, brushing over her areola, lightly cupping the small swell of her breast until it grew heavy and tender, her nipple aching to be pinched. Poppy gritted her teeth. Lust had her lower belly coiling tight and hot.
“Win…” Her breath caught as he worried the very tip of her nipple with his finger. “Don’t play.”
A low, seductive chuckle rumbled in his chest. His mouth closed over her earlobe, and she gasped when he bit it. “You like it when I play.”
Oh, but she did. Her lids fluttered closed when, as if opening a delicate tome, he parted her gown.
Her fists unfurled, and her palms pressed against the glass, foggy now from the heat of her breath. “Win.” Their room was dark, but not as dark as the street. Anyone passing by might see her. See them. The knowledge sent fire and ice through her sensitized flesh. Her breath grew to panting. He was exposing her, and he knew it. He knew what it did to her, how it made her heart race and her sex grow white-hot with need.
Win stood quiet, his warm breath stealing over her neck and down her bare skin. “Just look at you,” he whispered. “So lovely and strong.”
The dark street opened up before them. The sight of her own br**sts jutting out, her ni**les hard and dark, sent a thrill of base excitement through her. Every breath she took sent a shiver over her skin. Decadent heat licked over her as she arched, thrusting her br**sts toward the window. Win’s hard weight pressed into her back. He grunted as his thick erection nudged between her bu**ocks. “What you do to me, Poppy.”
He touched her hair, tilting her head just slightly to get at her neck, and his words vibrated through her as he murmured against her skin, “ ‘Through the dancing poppies stole, a breeze, most softly lulling to my soul.’ ” His teeth grazed her. “You are the spark that lights my soul, Boadicea.”
Then his hands… those big, rough hands glided along her tender skin, touching her aching ni**les in brief acknowledgment before sliding down. An inarticulate sound left her as his fingers delved between her thighs.
Her legs trembled as she parted them further. For him. The feel of him teasing, and the window like a big eye upon her, not letting her hide. His broad chest rocked against her shoulder blades with each breath he took as he explored her with slow, gentle strokes.
“Softly,” he whispered. “Always so softly, until the moment I take you hard.”
Gods, but she wanted it. Fast and hard. From behind, until she couldn’t stand, couldn’t think of anything other than him and how she felt when she was under his control. He set her free. Undone, her forehead thunked against the glass, her eyes tightly shut. But his arm snaked around her, his free hand coming up to cup just beneath her chin. He forced her head up, made her pay attention. His reflection was a blur in the glass, all but his eyes that gleamed in the dark.
“Do you want me, Poppy?” The long length of his c**k ground into her. “Here?”
Her knees buckled. Only his arm about her kept her from falling. “Yes,” she managed. “Yes.”
He pushed a finger into her. A brief invasion to make her quake. His hand slipped away, leaving her wanting. His lips touched her cheek. “Show me.” He stepped back, far enough so that she might turn.
Her legs wobbled, and the dressing gown slithered to the floor as she faced him. He stood before her, tall and proud, his scars white in the shadows of his face. She traced the one that led to his mouth. Back and forth, she rubbed the small knot of scar tissue that bisected his upper lip. Win’s deep-set gaze was a living thing, burning her skin. His lips parted for her, and her thumb slipped inside him. Heat and wetness. He sucked her with firm pulls, and she swayed. Her thumb slipped free when he spoke.
“Undress me, wife.”
He’d taken off his waistcoat, but still remained in shirtsleeves and trousers. His braces emphasized the width of his shoulders and the length of his lean torso. No words were spoken as her hands slipped beneath the suspenders and slid one then the other off. Crisp linen met her palm, and beneath it his heart pounded. Poppy rested there and shivered, not from cold but for the want of him.
Poppy cupped his cheeks. One smooth cheek, the other bumpy with scars. Slowly, she kissed his ravaged cheek, and his eyes fluttered closed. His lips hovered near hers, close enough to touch, but he did not let her kiss him.
“Finish what you started.” His voice was low, nearly stern, but a glint of tender amusement lit his eyes. A dare.
Holding his gaze, she went to work on his shirt. His body canted the slightest bit as she tugged his buttons free. Countless times she had undressed him and still it felt new, slightly forbidden. The heat in his gaze and the sound of his unsteady breath, ratcheting up with each button she eased free, sent her own need rising. And all the time, she was conscious of the window at her back and the humid air kissing her hot skin.
With efficiency born of experience, she pulled his shirt over his head and then simply looked at him. He’d called her lovely. He had no idea what he was to her. His strength, the hatch-work of his scars, the dark golden chest hair that gilded a path down to the bulge beneath his low-lying trousers—all of it made her dizzy with need.
Her mouth found the thick slash along his neck. He swallowed hard as she licked it. She placed a kiss on the hollow of his throat, loving the way his flesh jumped and his breath hitched.
“I forget about them when I am with you.”
“Don’t,” she whispered. “They are testament that you lived.” Her soft kisses followed the lines of his scars. He was utterly edible. And so she bit him, her teeth sinking into his hard muscle. Win grunted, his h*ps thrusting against hers as if he’d been jerked.
“Cheeky girl,” he murmured.
Grinning, Poppy nuzzled the spot. Win’s heavy hand grasped her nape. His serious eyes bore into her as, exacting gentle but firm pressure, he guided her to her knees. “Now show me.”
Kneeling before him, Poppy looked up at him. Only he could command her like this. Only he thought to try, as if he knew how much she needed to let go and be in someone’s keeping. The tips of his fingers touched her lower lip. “Give me that lovely mouth, sweeting.”
Suppressing a shudder of hot lust, she reached for his trousers. His erection strained against the fabric, pulling the buttons tight. With shaking fingers, she worked him free. Her hands flowed along his skin, smoothing over the rough, long muscles of his thighs as she eased his trousers and smalls down.
Against her cheek, the hard shaft of his c**k twitched, nudging up to get her attention. He had it. His heavy cods drew up tight, and the glorious shaft pulsed with life, the head shining and ruddy with impatience.
Her mouth watered. The need to take him set her skin on fire. But she wanted Win as undone as she was. Holding his gaze, she leaned forward. A tender kiss upon his navel had muscles there moving up and down in an unsteady cadence. The skin along his lower abdomen grew tauter, silken. Her teeth grazed the sharp edge of his hip bone, playing there.
He did not let her get away with it. Strong fingers threaded through her hair, gripping her. His scarred hand wrapped around the root of his cock, holding it for her as he pushed her head forward. “Take it, wife. Take me.”
It was all she had ever wanted to do. Poppy opened for him. He filled her mouth, and a groan tore from the depths of his chest. She suckled him, a light tease.
“Ah… God, Poppy.” The muscles in his forearm stood out as he held the back of her head. “Suck it hard, sweeting.” His h*ps canted as if to make his point. But she held him fast, pressing her hands upon his h*ps as she paid homage to the very tip of him, loving the smoothness, the taste of him. Loving the way his breath grew ragged and his big body bowed against her.
“Poppy Ann Lane,” he ground out, between her light licks, “if you don’t…” His breath left in a rush as she drew him in as deep as she could. “Oh, yes.” His hand drifted to cup her cheek. “There’s a good wife.”
She smiled around him. Then her eyes closed as she concentrated on filling her mouth with him. Her tongue drew along his thick ridge, her hands stroking him. His thighs trembled, and she knew he was close to his peak. Win’s fingers twined in her hair. He was taking over, holding her head as he worked himself in and out of her mouth. And she shuddered. She was purely feminine, and he was purely male.
The sound of his grunts and the feel of him sliding in and out of her mouth made her whimper. White heat licked over her skin and set her body shaking. Poppy pressed her hand between her thighs, touching herself as she loved him. Her cl**ax hit, unexpected and hard. She shuddered through it, and, as she did, she tried something she’d been aching to do for years—she let her power go. Cold filled her mouth, licking over his length.
“Hell,” he rasped. He arched against her, his fingers digging into her hair, the hard muscles of his torso straining and glorious. There was power in that too, making him come undone and helpless. The essence of him filled her mouth, and she swallowed it down, taking that small part of him into her. She attended him until he grew limp and fell back against a chair with a jagged sigh that spoke of satisfaction. Before she could speak, he was pulling her up and gathering her close.
His chest trembled, and she rested her palm on him. When he spoke, his voice was like rust. “That bit at the end…” He swallowed.
Poppy rested her forehead against his as he traced her jaw and cheek with a shaking hand. She smiled against his skin. “You liked it.” It wasn’t a question; she knew him too well to wonder.
“Exceedingly.” He nuzzled her neck as he held her. “I missed you.”
Poppy’s hand fell against his damp chest. “Of that I have no doubt.”
They both stilled, and then as if by some agreement, they laughed. He shook with it as he kissed the tip of her nose. His gaze, when he caught hers, danced with a light she had missed so much. He grinned wide, boyish and free. “Now then, let us see how else we can utilize that talent of yours.”
Loose limbed with slumberous warmth, Poppy drifted on a cloud of contentment. Dawn was here, and the very idea of it threatened to pull her down into a sea of terror. An unfamiliar sensation that she struggled to avoid for the moment in favor of just being. If only for a little longer. Heavy male legs twined with hers. A strong arm held her close against a wall of muscle and hot skin. The warm cup of Win’s palm was against her breast. For years she had awoken in this manner, surrounded by Win. For months she had awoken alone. And though her body was quite used to the sensation of Win, her heart felt fragile as thin ice over deep water.
When he stirred, she turned to meet his gaze. Nearly nose to nose, they studied each other. He’d come to her again and again. Stopping only when they were both too weak to move. And she ached now, in places that had been too long ignored. Even so, the unwelcome morning light lay full upon them now, making her squint as she studied his deep set eyes.
Win’s wide mouth quirked. “Shall I speak first then?” His damaged voice was husky and uneven.
Poppy’s hand, resting on the small of his tight back, pressed against him. “If you insist.” Flutters ran through her belly but she did not lower her gaze.
The cool blue of his eyes turned warm. “I love you.”
Her breath caught, and he said it again, against her mouth. “I love you.” Moving in that assured, greedy way only a man intent on tupping could, he rolled on to her, making himself at home between her thighs. His lips ghosted over her neck and down to the pendant resting in the hollow of her throat. His teeth clinked on the gold as he took it in his mouth and gave it a light tug just as he used to do. Poppy smiled up at him, and he let it go. “I love you.” All of her.
The hot crown of his c**k found her opening, and he shuddered. She was wet already.
A lazy grin slid over his lips as he eased into her. And in, and in. Until he was fully seated. “I love you, Poppy Lane.” His hand glided along her skin, over her arm, and their fingers threaded. He held her hand as he made love to her, in an undulating movement that never paused. She wanted it to last forever.
“Win…” She wrapped her legs around his hips, holding him there.