Chapter Eleven

She was temptation on the hoof …

Ian felt a little bit like Adam in the Garden of Eden. Eve was sashaying around his “garden,” swinging her sweet breasts in front of him, doing everything but shout, “Catch me if you can.”

I have to be strong. This is just a pretend marriage. She is just another woman. My luck with women stinks. It’s not worth the pain. I have to be strong.

“Sit down, Maddie.” He pointed to the stuffed chair in the living room, across from the sofa where he sat. Sam jumped onto her lap— lucky cat! —and immediately fell asleep, snoring.

Ian’s knees were spread and he was leaning forward, absently rubbing his palms down his jeans-clad thighs, from knees to groin, over and over.

She noticed his nervous action.

And his cock—foolish, foolish appendage—grew thick and heavy.

Her eyes widened in surprise.

“Stop looking at me there .”

“Stop rubbing yourself there .”

“I wasn’t … never mind.” He closed his knees, steepled his hands before his face, trying to ignore the source of his heated embarrassment. “I brought you in here to talk. It’s important.”

“So, talk.”

So, talk , he mimicked silently. “The reason the members of my squad were here tonight involves you.”

Her head shot up, and Sam looked up, too. Seeing that it was only him, Sam immediately went back to sleep. “If it involves me, why was I not permitted to listen?”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes that blue. Maybe it’s because her skin is so fair and her hair so light. No, they’re just a pretty shade of blue.

“Ian?” she prodded.

He blinked several times. “I needed to explain everything to the guys to see if they’re interested in this … uh, mission.”

“Seals get to approve their missions? They can choose to go or not go where they are ordered?”

Yeah, right. “No, this is a special case.”

“Special, how?”

Aaarrgh! “Back to what I was saying … it would have served no purpose to tell you about the mission if it wasn’t approved. But it was. We’re good-to-go now.” He smiled, hoping she understood.

“Let me understand you.” She stood, dumping Sam, and began to pace the small room. “You needed to have your men’s permission afore informing me of a plan that involves me?”

“Maddie—”

“When were you going to ask my permission?”

“Maddie—”

“Oh, how like a man! You think women have no brains. You think you are so much smarter.”

“Maddie—”

“Do not ‘Maddie’ me, you stubborn lout. I do not know why I am surprised. My father and brothers did the same. Always underestimating my abilities, unless it came to running the household. Well, I proved just how capable I could be for one year as I led the Norstead warriors in one fight after another to fend off our attackers. Until Steinolf. But that—”

“Shut up!” he shouted.

Which surprised her, of course. “You crude oaf. You cannot speak to me like—”

He stood and shoved her back into her chair. “Just sit and listen for a change. I don’t need or want your nagging. This is not the day for it. I’m pissed off at the SEAL commander. I’m pissed off at the CIA. I’m pissed off at my father. And I’m sure as hell pissed off at you. Dancing with a guy who has notches on his belt for all the women he’s laid. And putting your feet in the lap of a guy who gives new meaning to the word stud.” He stopped suddenly and rubbed a hand across his forehead. Maybe he was turning into a male shrew, as Pretty Boy had muttered earlier tonight. “Hell, Maddie, I sound just like you.”

“ Me? ” But then she changed the subject on him, like she did all the time, probably to distract him. “What has your father—”

No, no, no! I will not talk about my father. He gave her a glower that stopped her tongue. Thank God! “When I went into the base today, I was ordered to report immediately to my commander’s office. When I got there—”

“They took away your rank. I feared this would happen … because of me. Well, I will go give your commander the straight story. Do not think that I cannot. Tell me his name so I—”

Ian’s jaw dropped. Then he said, “Do … not … interrupt … me … again.”

She must have seen how angry he was, but did that stop her? Hell, no! “Do … not … give … me … orders.”

He had to smile at her mirroring his own words. “Some wife you are! You don’t show proper respect for your husband.”

He’d been teasing, but she took him seriously. “Mayhap if you acted more like a husband, I would act more like a wife.” He could see that she regretted the words the moment they left her mouth.

The prospect of their acting like a real married couple hung in the air between them. Could they? Should they? Would they?

Finally he shook his head to erase the erotic images that hovered there. “Maybe I should have had you sit in on the meeting. But I didn’t. So let me tell you now.”

“Your apology is accepted.”

“I didn’t apologize.”

She arched her eyebrows at him.

“You’re a hard negotiator.” I’m turning into my father. He could never apologize either … even when he’d been proven wrong. He stood and walked over to her chair, then reached a hand out to shake hers. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded her acceptance, but appeared suspicious. As he walked back to the sofa to continue his explanation of the mission, she said, “You have a nice arse.”

He stopped in his tracks, then plopped down on the sofa. “I beg your pardon.”

“You have a nice arse. I noticed it in those tight jeans as you walked away from me,” she explained. “What? Is that another unsuitable thing for a woman to say to a man?”

“Not for a wife to say to her husband, but a woman who says it to a single, red-blooded male is giving a clear signal.”

She pondered his message for a moment, and said, “Oh.”

“Oh.” That is all. She didn’t say it wasn’t what she wanted. This is probably some female trick. Bait-and-switch, or something. He explained the mission then, telling her that his teammates had agreed to participate, their primary role being to guard her day and night, waiting for the tangos to attempt to grab her. There would be three men there at all times, one inside, one in back of the house, one in front. Hidden, of course.

She’d been surprisingly quiet while he’d explained the mission. “Are you asking for my permission, or telling me what is going to happen?”

It was more like the latter, but he fudged a bit and said, “We want your permission.”

She smiled slightly, obviously catching his hesitation. “The answer is yes.”

Thank God! “It could be dangerous. We’ll try our best to protect you. Even so, you’d be a decoy to some mean-ass bad guys.”

She shrugged. “I have been in more dangerous spots.”

“Someday you are going to tell me exactly who you are.”

“When I trust you more. There is still a chance you or your comrades would send me back to Steinolf. He is a powerful man.”

“Maddie, I don’t know anyone named Steinolf.”

“We shall see. I will tell all when the time is right.”

“I’m going in to shower, and then to bed. I’ve got to be up by five to report to the base by six. Do you want the shower first?”

“I bathed this morning.”

He smiled. She’d told him her opinion of twice-a-day showers. “Okay. See you later.”

Ian did not realize till later … a short time later … how prophetic his words would be.

When he was in the middle of rinsing the shampoo out of his hair, he glanced through the glass doors of the shower stall, then did a double take.

Maddie was standing there. Watching him.

This is a losing battle. He turned off the shower and stepped out, wrapping a towel around his middle, but not before she’d seen his full-blown boner. What did she expect? When a woman purposely looked at a naked man, his cock interpreted it one way only.

“Maddie, what are you doing in here? You shouldn’t go into a bathroom when a man is naked.”

“I shouldn’t? Why?”

“It’s just not done.” He glanced down pointedly at the tent in his towel.

“Oh, that! I have seen plenty of those . Sometimes, when the housemaids were busy, it was my job to help the visitors or my warriors bathe. I do not take that condition personally.”

“Take it personally, Maddie. Believe me, take it personally.”

She tilted her head in question. “As an insult or a compliment?”

“Definitely a compliment.”

“Hmmm. Then, thank you.”

Holy shit! This is the first time a woman has thanked me for a hard-on. “Why did you come in here?”

“I came to ask you to shave my legs.” He hadn’t noticed before, but she had a can of his shaving cream in one hand and his razor in the other.

If he hadn’t been surprised before, he sure was now. “Why?”

“The lady in the clothes mart yesterday told me that women shave their legs and armpits in this country. I would like to try it.”

Incredible! “I’ve never shaved a woman’s legs before.”

“You shave your face. It must be the same thing.”

Not in a Navy minute! “Not really.”

“I could ask Pretty Boy when he comes next time. Since he painted my toenails, I’m sure he—”

Over my dead body. “I’ll do it, dammit!”

Rub a dub dub …

Maddie was sitting on the closed toilet seat, with one leg propped up on the edge of the sink vanity.

He had been putting hot water in the sink and laying out a towel when he turned and groaned. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Because I took off my jeans? Tsk-tsk! Think about it. How are you going to shave my legs if they are covered?”

How am I going to stop looking at that shadowy area barely covered by your panties? He wet her leg with a hot washcloth, soaped it up with shaving cream, ankle to never-never-land. For just a second, he closed his eyes and relished the sensation of, well, feeling up Maddie’s leg. He inhaled and exhaled for strength—which was a lost cause. His favorite body part was practically drooling over Maddie’s long, long legs. Then he hunkered down and began to shave knee to ankle. “I don’t know why you want to do this. Your leg hair is so light, you can hardly see it.”

“But you can feel it.”

Damn straight I can.

“You mentioned your father earlier today. Why was he here in Caliph-ornery-ah? Why did he not come to your home?”

At first he bristled, not wanting to discuss the old man. But he had to think about something other than the burning question: Did she want him to give her a bikini cut? “Yeah, my father was there. The bastard!”

“That is an awful way to speak of your father.”

“He deserves it. Hell, Maddie, he was partly responsible for this mission we’re starting on.”

“Is this not what seals do?”

“Yes, but … you have to know our history. I’m the oldest in my family, and the biggest disappointment to him. No matter what I do to please him, it’s never good enough.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I was a senior master chief for years, a Navy rate that fitted me perfectly. I was successful there, but not by his standards. He badgered and badgered and badgered till I went to officers’ candidate school and became a junior-grade lieutenant and then a full lieutenant. Then he decided that wasn’t enough. He started badgering me to accept a desk job in D.C.” He looked up at her and saw the sympathy on her face, as well as confusion. “You didn’t understand a word I said, did you?”

“Not the separate words, but the whole of it, yes, I did. Your father wants you to be something you cannot be. In truth, I would guess he wants you to be him.”

He was surprised that she’d been able to cut to the heart of the problem between him and his father. “Bingo!” he said, then put one of her legs down, and lifted the other. I cannot believe I am shaving the legs of a half-naked woman, and I’m talking about my father. I must have the libido of an earthworm. Well, no, that’s not precisely true. I have the libido. I just have iron control. Someone ought to give me a medal. I could pin it right below my Budweiser, the SEAL trident pin. I can see it now. Some admiral or other, maybe even my dad—horror of horrors—would pin the medal on and say something like, “Great job, MacLean. You could teach all the rest of us how to keep it in our pants.”

“At least you are smiling now.”

I am? Hell, it takes a lot to make me smile after thinking about my dad.

“Tell me about the others in your family.”

She is like a puppy tugging on a pant leg. Tug, tug, tug … till she finally gets what she wants. He sighed. “My mother died a long time ago, when I was a kid.”

“Mine, too.”

“I have two younger brothers. Clay, who is in his last year at Annapolis and will probably become a ring knocker in the SEALs. My other brother, Ross, is an Air Force pilot; you can imagine what my father thinks of that. Then there’s my sister Alison. She’s a doctor, got married three years ago to a guy who had considered joining the SEALs, but instead turned out to be a real computer genius.”

“Like Geek?”

“Yep.”

“It sounds to me like each member of your family has chosen his own life path. Your father should be proud of you all.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”

“Was it always this bad?”

“Actually, no. He was a little bit autocratic when we were kids, but it’s gotten out of hand now. Probably because it’s looking less and less likely that one of us will follow in his footsteps.”

“If you ask me—”

“I didn’t.”

She smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “I believe you should reconcile with your father.”

“Not that I care, but why would you say that?”

She shrugged. “He is your father. The last words I said to my father were, ‘You are the dumbest dolt in all the world to take this voyage. And you risk the lives of all my brothers and sisters you take with you.’ I couldn’t imagine how Ragnor and I were to take care of all his holdings in his absence. I called him irresponsible, too.”

He could picture her laying into her father in just that way. But what was that about Ragnor? His sister was married to a guy named Ragnor. It wasn’t a common name, but there had to be more than one man named Ragnor.

“They all died on that voyage, and Ragnor’s death followed more than ten years later, leaving me to hold it all together.”

“I’m sorry.” I don’t believe one word she said. Well, some of it has to be true. That’s the technique of a good liar. They take a kernel or two of truth and weave it into a world-class lie.

“Imagine how you would feel if your father died tomorrow.”

Uh-oh! Sucker punched by her again! I should have seen it coming. “I would be sad, but—”

“I think you would be devastated.”

He ignored her interruption. She always interrupted. “I repeat, I would be sad, very sad, but your argument goes both ways. How would my father feel if I were to die suddenly, which is a more likely scenario in my line of work?”

“He would be devastated, of course. You bullheaded men need to bend at some point.”

“You’re an expert on bullheaded men?” He was trying to change and lighten the conversation.

“That I am. Let me tell you …”

She went on and on and on then about her experience with bullheaded men, in particular, her father, her brothers, her ex-husband, pretty much the entire male gender. He just let her ramble on. He was actually starting to like her tart personality. Besides, while she rambled on, he was able to concentrate on her legs.

He’d already finished shaving both legs from knee to ankle while they talked, being extra careful around those scars on her ankles … the ones that matched her wrist scars. Sometime in her past, Maddie’s legs and hands had been shackled with an abrasive rope, either for a long time or so tightly the skin had been rubbed off.

He started working on her thighs now. Under normal circumstances, he would have considered this a highly erotic activity. He had to remember that he needed to keep his hands to himself if he wanted an annulment. But, man oh man, as he stroked and stroked her with the razor, he was for damn sure thinking about another kind of stroking. Good thing he’d pulled a pair of sweatpants on. The towel wouldn’t have hidden a damn thing.

“You have nice hands,” Maddie said, interrupting his fantasy.

He held his hands out. Nothing out of the ordinary in his opinion.

“They’re big but long-fingered and capable-looking. Also, they are not hairy.”

Lady, the things I could do to you with these capable hands! “So, you like my ass and my hands, eh?” he teased. “What else do you like about me?”

She smiled at his obvious fishing expedition. “Not much,” she said.

Good. I do not want you liking me … too much.

“Except for your kissing. Whew! I like your kisses, too.”

He closed his eyes and counted to ten, willing his lower body to behave. It hadn’t worked in the past and it definitely wasn’t working now. “I only kissed you once.” Way to go, cowboy! Could I say anything more uncool?

“Once was more than enough. I was fluttering so much ’twas a wonder I did not fly off.”

He had to smile, dammit. He just had to. “I liked your kiss, too.” Why don’t I just throw in the flag and admit I am out of my league here? “I’m done,” he said. Just in time! He stood and turned to the sink, rinsing off his razor and letting the water go down the drain.

“You can’t be done,” she complained to his back. “You haven’t done my armpits yet.”

No way! I am not putting my hands that close to the breasts from heaven. He turned to let her down easily, and, oh my God, she was unbuttoning her blouse and dropping it to the floor. He should have been ready to jump her bones. She was facing away from him, wearing only a lacy bra and matching hip-hugger panties. But what he saw caused his erection to go down instantaneously, like a pricked balloon. “Sonofabitch!”

Her back was crisscrossed with dozens of old welts, from her neck to her buttocks. His eyes teared up in sympathy for what she must have suffered. He should have guessed after seeing the ankle and wrist welts. He should have guessed.

“What’s the matter?” She tried to turn around, but he took hold of her upper arms from behind and pressed her against the wall. With her hands raised above her head and her body pressed against the wall with his left hand, he began to trace each of the scars with his fingertips, then with his lips. He started at her shoulders and began a slow, slow journey down to her lush behind.

“Oh, that!” she said against the wall. “I forgot about my back.”

“How could you ever forget such a thing?”

She shrugged. “I do not wish to speak of it. I cannot draw up the memories or they will crush me. Are the scars ugly? I have never seen them, but I can feel them.”

He kissed the curve of her neck and said, “There is nothing ugly about you. Nothing .”

“It is nice of you to say so, but I suspect you are trying to spare my feelings.”

“Who did this to you? No, don’t tell me. Steinolf. Right?”

“The very same.”

“I can see now why you would want to raise an army to avenge yourself. In this case, revenge would definitely be sweet. To do that to a woman … it boggles the mind.” I wonder … hmmm … I wonder if she did something horrible to provoke such treatment.

“He wanted me to agree to a wedding … with him. And I would not.”

A wedding? That’s all? “Most women would have given in. At the first sting of the whip.”

“Mayhap I would have if it were only me who was affected. But his offer was a ruse to draw my fighting men out of the hills. He would have ambushed them one and all.”

“You did it for your … uh, people?”

She nodded.

“So that is why you want to raise an army.”

“Will you help me?”

“Probably not, though I do sympathize with you.”

“Pfff to your sympathy! I have felt safe here with you, safer than I have felt for years, but that is dangerous to me. If I feel too safe, I will never have the bloodlust to enter the fray again.”

Down on one knee with one hand pressed against her shoulders, he kissed the small of her back where there was a particularly livid scar.

She stiffened and tried to struggle out of his grasp. She failed. “What are you doing back there?”

“Caressing and kissing your scars.”

She was silent for a moment. “Please do not,” she said in a soft voice.

He stepped back. “Why?”

“Because I must remain strong, and you are making me soft.”

“I am?”

“Hah! Any softer and I will melt.”

Son of a gun! I must be good. Ian grinned. “Are you fluttering?”

“Like a butterfly. Do not try to fool me. You are doing it apurpose.”

I didn’t even know I had that skill. Hot damn! He stood and released his hold on her. She turned and looked at him. They stood only a foot apart. He could practically touch her with his erection.

A tantalizing silence hovered between them then.

Maddie was tall, and he liked the fact that she was almost eye level with him. In fact, he liked way too much about her.

Maddie was thinking that she liked way too much about the rogue that the norns of destiny had cast her way. She looked at his face, which was often too serious, especially when he spoke of his father. His wet hair was darker than its usual reddish brown hue. Black eyelashes framed honey-brown eyes. There were small lines bracketing his eyes and mouth, whether from laughter or frowns, she could not say. Probably the latter.

She had been telling the truth when she said he made her melt. As he continued to stare at her, her blood slowed and grew thick. Her breasts ached. A delicious flutter lodged itself low in her belly, way too close to …

He stepped back slightly and glanced down her body. She had noticed that he had taken great care to avoid looking at her in her panties and bra. But he was looking now, for a certainty.

Her nipples grew hard as pebbles, just at his scrutiny. If her body liked mere looking, what would it do if he actually touched her?

And then … oh, blessed gods and goddesses … she found out.

Just with the tips of his fingers, he touched the peaks of her breasts.

Her eyelids—suddenly heavy—drifted shut, and she arched her back. A small moan escaped her mouth. What a delicious, delicious feeling! She wanted him to stop. Nay, she wanted him to touch her more.

“Maddie,” he whispered.

When she opened her eyes, she saw his face lowering to hers. His eyes were hazy with desire, and his lips parted. “I’m going to kiss you,” he murmured, a hairsbreadth from her mouth.

“And if I say you nay?”

“I’m going to kiss you,” he repeated.

She could not say nay if she wanted to, so tense was her body with anticipation.

He burrowed his fingers into her hair, to hold her in place lest she wanted to bolt.

Hah! Not a chance!

Only then did he settle his lips on hers, parting her lips in the process. He groaned into her mouth.

Mother of God! I never realized a male groan could be so erotic. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

He moved in closer, putting one hand on her nape and wrapping the other arm around her waist. She thought she heard him murmur, “I give up!” The kiss, which had started gentle and searching, turned hard and demanding. Who knew that a man’s lips could coax such a response from a woman? Certainly not she. When his tongue entered her mouth and retreated, entered and retreated, she soon realized that he was imitating the sex act itself.

Finally he jerked his mouth off of hers. Panting for breath, he said, “This is insanity.”

He was going to stop. He was going to end their kiss. He was going to leave her feeling hot and excited and wanting. I do not think so! She grabbed his ears and pulled him back. “Do not dare stop, you brute. Kiss me.”

He did not need much encouragement, but this time he put his hands on her buttocks and lifted her so only the tips of her toes touched the floor. When he kissed her now, his manpart was aligned perfectly with her cleft, while his bare chest abraded her breasts.

If he had not been holding her up with his hips pressed hard against her belly, she would have swooned, so intense was her pleasure. Now it was not just his tongue dancing the sex act in her mouth, but his lower body undulating against her, too. With each thrust, her nerves drew tighter and tighter. There was a wetness between her legs. Both her breasts and nether parts throbbed with aching.

At some point, somehow, her legs had become wrapped around his hips.

“This is not a good idea,” he choked out, even as he turned and walked her out of the bathing chamber, her body wrapped about his like a clinging cat. “This is definitely not a good idea.”

He did not stop, however.

Thank the gods!

Instead, he tossed her into the middle of his giant bed so she landed flat on her back. Immediately he crawled up and over her.

“Are we going to make love?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah.” With that, he undid the front fastener on her bra and eased the lacy garment off her. He looked down at her then. And smiled. “Oh, baby,” was all he said.

She felt such joy that he liked looking at her. Then she felt more than joy when he began to touch her. He lifted her breasts from underneath, he kneaded them, he swept his palms over them repeatedly; then he tweaked the nipples so hard it felt good. They became still more prominent.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he said in a husky voice. He put his lips to her breast then and suckled rhythmically.

“Aaaaaaaaaahhhhh!” she wailed, arching her back. She tried to push him off but he was immovable. It was too much. Too much!

Between her legs she felt herself begin to pulse, then spasm. He lifted his head to watch her face as her female parts shattered in devastating pleasure. She didn’t understand. But apparently he did, and he must have liked her response, because he leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips. Then he shifted to the other breast, which he licked and nipped with his teeth before he began to suckle there, too.

“You are torturing me,” she gasped out.

“Good torture or bad torture?”

“Definitely good.”

He rolled over on his side and shrugged out of his braies , then eased her out of her pan-teas. She tried to sit up, but he pushed her back down. She was about to protest, to say that she wanted to participate in the “event,” not let it happen to her.

“Let me,” he said. “You are so beautiful.”

“No, I am not.”

“Shhhh. You are beautiful to me.” Placing a hand on her belly, he crept low, brushing her woman’s fleece, then inserting his fingers between her legs.

“Noooo,” she said, pressing her thighs together.

“Yes,” he insisted, and even with her legs clamped together, he thrust a forefinger into her wetness and touched her in a place she had never been touched before. She keened out her ecstasy and loosened her legs, reflexively. He must have considered that an invitation, because he began to caress her folds more boldly, even inserting one finger, and then two, to test her readiness. She could have told him she was more than ready.

And what did he do? He rolled away from her and opened a drawer in a chest beside the bed.

“What? You are stopping now? ” Her voice was shrill with her need for fulfillment.

He chuckled and rolled back. “No, I am not stopping, sweetheart. I’m just beginning.” Lying on his back, he tore open a silver packet and was about to put the object inside on his manpart.

“What … is … that?”

“A condom,” he said, surprised at her question. “Birth control.”

“This country has a means of preventing conception?”

He nodded, even as he sheathed himself.

She shook her head. “ ’Tis not necessary with me. I am barren.”

“Are you sure?”

“Woefully sure.”

He unpeeled the sheath from his manpart and arranged himself over her. Pushing her knees up and out, he entered her with a grunt of satisfaction.

She could not breathe. She could not move. Speech was impossible. Had anything in the world ever felt this good? He filled her, then moved, and filled her some more. Her bedsport with Karl had never been anything like this.

His straightened arms were braced on the mattress on either side of her head, but he lifted one arm. His hand reached between their bodies where they were joined. He flicked his middle finger back and forth, playing a part of her that felt engorged and extremely sensitive.

Her lower body bucked against him, of its own volition. The muscles of her inner female channel clutched and unclutched his still unmoving, fully imbedded manpart, which unbelievably thickened even more.

The only indications that he was as aroused as she were the perspiration on his forehead and his heavy breathing. He took both of her hands and raised them over her head, where she grabbed onto the rungs of the headboard. “Hold on, honey,” he said, and began long, long strokes in and out of her body, so slow she wanted to scream.

Holding on tight, she arched her back upward, so intense was the sweet agony. He leaned his head down and licked one nipple. Ecstasy was hitting her everywhere—where his lips suckled, where his lower body hit her special spot when he slammed into her, where her inner folds convulsed over and over and over.

She spread her legs wider, wanting more, giving that special spot greater access to the rhythmic off, on, off, on graze of his body against hers right there.

“Are you ready?” he choked out.

“For what?”

He let out a hoot of laughter, and showed her. His strokes became shorter and harder, slamming into her. Apparently, she had been ready, because her mouth was letting out those embarrassing, whoofing grunts, “Uh, uh, uh, uh … !”

Ian was no better. One continual moan was coming through his gritted teeth.

And then … and then her body splintered apart, starting where they were joined and spiraling out to all her extremities. Ian thrust into her one last time, arched his neck back, and spilled his seed inside her welcoming body.

For the first time in many, many years, Madrene mourned the fact that she was barren. Because this wonderful, wonderful lovemaking she’d just experienced with Ian ought to have some fruitful result. Alas, that was not to be. But she was happy nonetheless.

The man was sprawled over her heavily, panting for breath. She lowered her arms and caressed his back. “It was never like this for me afore,” she told him, not sure if he was asleep or awake.

He raised his head and said, “It was never like this for me, either. I swear to God, Maddie, that is the truth.”

Withdrawing his wilted manpart from inside her with a grimace of pain, or pleasure—she could not guess which—he turned so he was lying on his side. He kissed her lightly on the lips. “Thank you,” he said. “No, don’t say anything. Any minute now, you will probably revert to your regular shrewish nagging. Before that happens, I want to thank you for the most incredible sex of my life.”

“Well, I have only Karl to compare you with, but you were far superior to him.”

“Thank you. I think.”

“Is it always like this for you?”

“Not even close.” He pulled her closer so that his arm was over her shoulder and her face lying on his chest.

She tried to ignore the feeling of her breast nestled in his chest hairs. “Do you think it was a one-time thing?”

“I hope not.”

“Me, too.” There was a comfortable silence between them as she just listened to the thump, thump, thump of his heart. “Mayhap we should try again.”

She felt his body shaking with laughter.

“What?”

“I have a motivational quote for you.”

“ Now? ”

“Practice makes perfect.”

She laughed and said, “That is the first one of your silly sayings that I have liked. So, are we going to do it again?”

He pretended to be reluctant. “A man needs some time to … regroup.”

“Really?” She trailed her fingertips down his chest, over his belly. Then she took his limp manpart in her hand. Like magic, it grew larger and larger in her loose grip.

“On the other hand …” he said.