Sherrilyn Kenyon - Love At First Bite

Anne wasn't certain what he meant. She supposed she could count the way he looked as being a gift. His voice, low and lilting, that flowed over her like sweet honey syrup she imagined could be counted as a gift, too. But Anne knew her attraction toward him went beyond his outer beauty. His scent, even though it attracted her, could not make her feel something she didn't honestly feel inside.

Whether he wanted to have them or not, Merrick had morals. She strongly suspected that he would not take her innocence tonight without wedding her on the morrow. Which left Anne no choice but to seduce him. She couldn't turn back now. She didn't want to turn back.

Anne closed the distance between them and touched his shoulder. He turned to look at her. Lifting herself on tiptoes, she pressed her mouth against his. Although inexperienced in the art of seduction, Anne sensed that she must rid herself of all inhibitions—simply act upon her emotions and let them carry her away, and him with her, she hoped.

Merrick's lips were warm, firm, and, unfortunately, unresponsive. She glanced up at him from beneath her lashes. His eyes were open. She ended the contact.

"Tell me you want me, Anne."

Surely he knew that she did. Surely he had the experience to know. "You know that I do."

Merrick shook his dark head. "No, I don't know. Is it the scent on me that makes you want me? Does the reason have anything to do with me at all? Tell me you want me , Anne. Only me."

He reached out and pulled her closer. His scent was in the air now and Anne had to admit it was a strong aphrodisiac. But it was the man she wanted. The man who had taught her to ride a horse bareback, who had taken her racing across the moors in the moonlight. The man who had saved her from wolves. The man who cared enough about her to warn her of her aunt and uncle's deception. The man who would turn his back on a fortune because he thought she deserved more than a bargain for the sake of revenge.

All of her life, Anne had been waiting to be loved again.

Longing to be loved again. In that moment, she realized that Merrick did love her. Perhaps he did not even know it, but she knew it, and for the moment, that was all that mattered.

"It's the man I want, Merrick," she answered. "It's the man I love."

His eyes flared in the darkness. "Do you love me? A bastard? A man with strange gifts he cannot understand and a heart bitter against a world that has no proper place for him?"

Her arms went around his neck. "Your place is with me. Destiny brought us together. I need your strength and you need my softness."

Slowly, he lowered his head. His lips brushed softly across hers. "You have strength enough on your own, Anne," he said.

"Make love to me," she whispered. "Share all that you are with me. And I will share all that I am, or have, with you."

Merrick made a low sound in his throat, nearly a growl. His eyes flashed blue fire in the night. "Don't tempt me, Anne. You know I want you."

She lifted her chin. "Then take me, Merrick."

He smiled at her daring. "You would trap me into taking your innocence so that I am honor bound to say the vows tomorrow. Very clever, Anne."

Although what he said was true, he needn't make it sound as if that were Anne's only reason for wanting him. Who better than him? A man who understood her love of horses and riding? A man who would let her have her independence and who wouldn't mind so much if she wanted to be bad on occasion, perhaps as long as it was only with him? There was no wrong in tricking him into making love to her. Anne loved him. He might not say the words, but he loved her, as well. Or she thought he did. Was she fooling herself again?

"Do you love me, Merrick?"

He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. "You're a hard woman not to love."

It wasn't an answer. Not really. "Do you love me?" she repeated.

He looked away from her. She thought he wouldn't answer; then he glanced back into her eyes. "You know I do."

Her heart pounded in her chest. Joy rose inside of her, because she knew he wasn't lying to her. He wasn't trying to deceive her. At long last, she had what she wanted. Bravely, Anne reached down and pulled her shirt and chemise over her head. She stood before him bare to the waist.

"Show me you love me," she said.

The fire in his eyes flared. His gaze roamed her naked flesh. Everywhere he looked, her skin heated. Her nipples puckered in the cool night air.

"Jesus, lass," he whispered, his voice low and raw sounding. "You're beautiful. Your skin is like fine porcelain—so pale and smooth I wonder if you'll break if I touch you."

"I will not break," she assured him, her own voice breathless. "Touch me and see."

Merrick's eyes locked with hers. He reached out and touched her cheek, caressing her gently before lowering his hand to her breast. She fit into his hand as if she were fashioned for him alone.

She gasped softly when his thumb brushed across her sensitive nipple. He bent forward, kissed her neck, then moved lower until his tongue performed the same tantalizing dance that his thumb had a moment earlier. Anne twisted her fingers in his thick hair. Her knees nearly buckled when he took the straining peak into his warm mouth and sucked. He straightened, gazed into her eyes, then picked her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing.

Their blankets were spread for the night and he took her to his, lowered her gently, and knelt beside her. "What do you know of matters between men and women, Anne?"

"Nothing much," she answered. "My aunt didn't speak to me of such things. My maid told me there would be pain my first time with a man."

Merrick ran a finger down her arm. "I don't know about being with a woman her first time. But I know there can be pleasure between us. Are you willing to go through the pain first?"

He offered her one last time to regain her senses. Anne didn't want to regain them. She did trust him. She had to trust him. There could not be love without trust.

"Yes," she answered. "I trust you, Merrick."

Slowly, he pulled his shirt over his head. Anne hadn't seen him without a shirt, and she quickly surmised it was something she wanted to do often in the future. His skin gleamed in the moonlight.

A smattering of dark hair covered his chest, tapering down into a thin line that traced a path down his corded stomach to disappear into the top of his trousers. She wanted to touch him. Wanted it badly enough to reach out and run her fingers down his chest. He was warm to the touch, as she knew he would be. She didn't know that a man could look soft and feel hard. There was no excess to be found on him. Only steely muscle and glorious tawny-colored skin.

"You are beautiful," she whispered.

"Come into my arms," he commanded. "Feel my skin against yours. Feel the differences between us."

She went willingly. The touch of her skin against his was like nothing she had experienced before. He tangled his hands in her hair and pulled her head back. Then he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her.

They sank into a kiss where mouths were fused, tongues clashed, and gentleness slipped away on the night breeze. The soft down on his chest teased her nipples and sent heat coursing to the place between her legs. He lowered her to the blanket, mouths still joined, skin against skin. Only when her head touched the ground, cradled by his hand, did he end the kiss. Merrick stared down at her, hypnotizing her with his strange night eyes; then he bent to kiss her neck.

Lower he traveled, finding her nipple and drawing it so deep into his mouth that her nails dug into his shoulders. Her hips arched upward as if by some uncontrollable force. Between her legs, she began to throb. Slowly his hand traveled down her body. He came to the tie on her trousers and loosened it, then pulled the trousers down her hips and legs.