Jan Delima - Celtic Moon

She gave a rueful smile. “With Enid and my mother in the kitchen, judging their offerings, I’m sure.”

“I will ask that you retrieve him before our guests arrive, and keep him with you upstairs at all times.”

“You don’t want me with you during the gathering?”

“I’d prefer that the leaders didn’t know my family,” he said cautiously, still unsure how far to push her current cooperative attitude. “You are a vulnerability I don’t want exposed.”

She regarded him with an expression he knew not to like. “You fear I’m too weak.”

“You misunderstand me.” He leaned forward and lifted her chin, waiting for her soft brown eyes to meet his. “It is my own weakness I must not expose. If any of the leaders saw me with you, they would know.”

She frowned. “Know what?”

“How I feel,” he said candidly. “That I would do anything to keep you safe . . . give up anything for you. The vulnerability is mine, Sophie, not yours.”

Her posture relaxed, melted into the chair as if her bones had turned to liquid. She took his hand from her face and enclosed it in both of hers, her expression open and unguarded, causing his throat to tighten even before she whispered, “I love you, Dylan.”

He wavered on his feet. Eavesdropping on her earlier confession to Francine had not compared to hearing it directly, given freely and without hesitation. He dropped to his knees in front of her, wedging his body between her thighs until the chair pressed against his stomach. He let his head fall into her lap and inhaled a ragged breath.

He had never been one to openly profess his feelings, more suited to action than love poems or pretty sonnets. He dropped a kiss inside her thigh, then another. Annoyed by the cloth that covered her skin, he reached up and snagged the elastic material from around her waist, making sure to include her undergarments, and tugged downward.

Her hand tightened on his shoulder and pushed. “What are you doing?”

“Showing you how much I love you in return,” he informed her, untangling the garments away from her ankles with determined purpose. Next, he tackled the running shirt that holstered her gun, frowning when the garment proved too snug to yank off. “Remove this,” he ordered.

She sent a nervous glance toward the door. “What if someone comes in here?”

“Everyone in Rhuddin Hall knows not to disturb us in our bedroom when the door is closed, even your mother.”

“Let me take a shower first,” she pleaded, though he sensed submission in her voice.

“No.”

Watching him through a heavy-lidded gaze, Sophie leaned forward and rolled the shirt over her head, and then gingerly placed the wrapped gun on the floor next to the chair. Another garment followed—a sports bra, he believed it was called. Finally, she sat before him blessedly naked.

He devoured the sight of her. The lingering scent of her earlier run only fueled his hunger. He leaned forward and nuzzled the exposed skin of her belly, then licked a trail from her navel to the soft curls above her sex; her stomach muscles contracted against his tongue.

Still kneeling, Dylan ripped open his jeans just enough to free his shaft, now painfully engorged. His skin crawled with heat, her pleasure and soft gasps the sweetest of tortures. Leaning back on his haunches, he snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to his face, until her bottom rested on the edge of the chair and he had full access to her most private core.

“Oh, God,” she whispered as he pulled her legs over his shoulders. He had a fleeting vision of her hands clutching the arms of the chair for support before he closed his eyes, greedy with anticipation.

She tasted like home and fulfillment. He nuzzled her flesh until he found the nub of her sex, circling his tongue in fast strokes until she cried out his name in husky abandon, her legs shaking against his shoulders as each pulse of pleasure claimed her body.

He almost spilled his seed on the cushions of the chair.

Before she had time to recover, he flipped her over with a growl. He entered her from behind, biting back a harsh shout as her exquisite heat wrapped around him. It was a primal mating, more animal than human. He heard the sounds coming from his mouth, yet had no control to stop them.

He came in a blind fury of pounding need.

Still panting, he collapsed on top of her, only then aware that Sophie had joined him with a second release by the pulses that continued to lick at his shaft. “Did I hurt you?”

“No!” A soft laugh shook her shoulders. “Would you plevase stop asking me that? You were incredible.”

“I lost control,” he admitted, easing some of his weight off her back.

She eyed him over her shoulder, a devious smile turning her lips. “I’m sure you’ll do much better next time.”

“Is that a challenge, wife?” He gathered her in his arms and carried her to the bed.

AN HOUR LATER, AFTER THEY HAD BOTH SHOWERED, Dylan leaned against the headboard and watched Sophie tug a sweater over her head, savoring this last moment with her before returning to his duties. She paced the room, full of restless energy despite the sensual workout he had just given her.

He patted the empty spot beside him. “Come here.”

“No.”

“If you can still argue with me, woman, then I’ve not tired you enough.” Another pat. “Come here.”

She stopped her pacing only to glare. “Stop trying to distract me.”

He sighed, resigned, and more than a tad disappointed. “You’re not going to give up on this, are you?”

“If you don’t want me by your side during the gathering, I understand. Just let me do something else less visible.” She waved her hand around the bedroom. “Give me something— anything —useful to do.”

“I consider the past hour very useful to my mental well-being.”

“Don’t do that,” she said softly. “I want to help. Sitting here and doing nothing will drive me insane.”

He lowered his voice to a sensual whisper. “You were not doing nothing, I assure you.”

“You’re patronizing me.”

“I’m not.” Sobering to her anger, he ran his hands over his face. “I need you to be safe, Sophie. That’s all. I will not be able to concentrate if I’m worried about you or your whereabouts.”

Unfortunately, her restless attitude came as no surprise; he remembered all too well her dislike of confined spaces, and her response. Experience had taught him not to ignore her request. Therefore, he tried to think of a responsibility that would keep her relatively safe and guarded but with a purpose she would respect. “We have eight children being kept in a secluded safe house in the village. Their parents are with them. Elen is there as well, and several guards have been assigned to the area around the building. Would you be willing to join them?” At her narrowed expression, he added, “As another protector.”

A worried frown creased her forehead. “How will their parents feel about me being there?”

“Allowing my family to join theirs would be considered a great honor, a further promise to keep them safe.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “Then I’ll go.”

“I want Joshua and your mother to join you,” he said, warming to the idea.

“That’s fine.”

“Will you promise to wear the Serpent?” He remained quiet until she nodded her consent. “Then tell your mother we leave in one hour, while I go find our son.”

THAT AFTERNOON, SOPHIE FOLLOWED DYLAN UP THE front steps of a quaint covered porch, with Joshua, her mother and Tucker just a few paces behind. The safe house was an ordinary blue cottage located on the edge of town, blending amongst scattered homes of similar design. A woman swung on a porch swing, reading a book, her long jean-clad legs dangling over the side.