Page 47 of Falling for the Knight

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Hannah had spent the better part of a week imagining what this exact moment would feel like. She’d had an inkling of it that night at camp, but this was much more than an inkling. It was a full-fledged assault on her senses, and she didn’t care what century he was from.

She didn’t know what he was asking for beyond permission to continue, but it hardly mattered. Well, maybe it mattered a bit.

“We can’t have sex, of course.” She frowned. “Or make love, or whatever you call it.”

“Of course.”

He reached for her and, clasping his hands around both buttocks, lifted her up against him. She clenched with pleasure when his hardness pressed against her.

“What are you—”

Tristan put her down at the base of a nearby tree and leaned her against it.

“—doing?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, Tristan leaned toward her until his lips were nearly touching hers. “I am doing what I should have done that first night we slept together.”

He kissed the corner of her mouth.

“We didn’t . . . sleep together,” she managed.

“Oh aye, but we did.”

He kissed her cheek, her jaw, her neck.

“In my time,” she said, gripping his surcoat with both hands. “Sleeping together means the same thing as having sex.”

“Is that so?”

Hannah closed her eyes as a moan slipped from her lips. He’d moved on to her ear. After kissing that, he buried his face in her neck and breathed in so deeply that Hannah was sure he could feel her heartbeat against his chest.

“What are you doing now?” she asked.

In answer, he grabbed a fistful of her gown at its hem and pulled it upward. Somehow, with only one hand, he managed to hike both layers up to her waist and expose her legs to the early nighttime air.

He lifted his head and winked. “In my time, we don’t talk so much. We feel instead.”

With that, he opened his palm wide against her leg and held it there. Then, lowering his head, he opened her mouth for a kiss that demanded her response, which she happily gave. Hannah met every thrust of his tongue with her own as his palm pressed and squeezed against her inner thigh, moving slowly but steadily upward.

Hannah had no choice but to respond. She pushed up against him, meeting each bit of pressure with her own until she couldn’t take it any longer. As if reading her thoughts, he pulled his hand back and lifted her gown for better access, letting his fingers rest on the very precipice of her fulfillment.

“You can’t stop there.”

If he wanted a challenge, then she would offer one. And her words did seem to embolden him . . . One moment, she was pressing her hips forward, and the next she could barely stand. He’d slipped his fingers inside her and knew exactly what to do with them. Thank goodness for the tree behind her.

“How . . . ,” she managed.

He kissed her neck, darting his tongue out each time his fingers surged inside her, the two motions mimicking each other.

Ever since she’d washed up on the shore of Saxford Castle, Hannah had gone to bed each night imagining this. Wondering how it would be with Tristan. Wondering how he would be different.

She didn’t have to wonder any longer.

There was no comparison.