Page 56 of Falling for the Knight

He took the goblet from her hand as they both stood. What had begun as something tender and sweet was quickly turning into much, much more.

When he broke away and placed the goblet on the table, Tristan did not come back to her immediately.

“I cannot stay away,” he said, as if he were confessing some grave sin.

“Then don’t.”

Such an easy solution. She’d spent days thinking of all the reasons they should stay away from each other, but now she couldn’t think of a single one.

He looked like he was going to argue with her, but instead Tristan strode toward her and slammed his mouth against hers in a kiss that was as passionate and possessive as the first one had been gentle. Within seconds their tongues tangled as they spiraled down a dangerous slope that Hannah knew she would be powerless to stop.

Before she could form a coherent thought, Tristan swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. He didn’t break contact as he lowered her and continued the delicious assault. She clamored to get his shirt off, eager to see how accurate her imagination had been. Complying, Tristan yanked it off over his head.

Her mouth dropped open.

Sitting beside her was a perfect specimen, the epitome of manliness. Unlike the muscle-heads who lifted next to her in the gym, Tristan’s muscles were formed more naturally. Years of training had brought them out in all the right places without looking . . . artificial.

She couldn’t help it. Hannah reached up and laid her hand on his upper arm. When the muscles beneath her fingers twitched, she let her fingers continue their exploration until his groan alerted her that her time was up.

“Your turn,” he said, reaching down to the fabric beneath her knee. His hand glided up ever so slowly, moving up toward her inner thigh where no barrier stood in his way. The combination of his rough hand and the smooth silk of her chemise elicited an involuntary shudder.

“One of many, I hope.”

She’d have answered, but his fingers found her at that precise moment. Hannah lifted her knees to give him the access he sought.

“Is this type of caress common in your time?” he asked, his deep voice only adding to his appeal.

He entered and withdrew, teased and tormented as if he’d been trained by the author of the Kama Sutra himself.

Hannah nodded.

As he brought her to the brink of climax literally seconds later, he asked, “And this?”

She was undone, unable to answer. Hannah closed her eyes and allowed herself the pleasure of a sweet release and the aftermath. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know Tristan had lowered himself beside her.

When she did open them, his head was propped up on his hand, his perfect, naked torso splayed out in front of her, begging to be touched.

And so she complied.

“So these are what real muscles look like?”

Tristan raised his brows. “Real muscles?”

Not in the mood to explain a gym, she said, “You are . . . magnificent.”

The word sounded hollow. Silly, really. But he was, and Hannah couldn’t think of any other word to describe him.

“Stay,” he said in response.

She froze. “What did you say?”

He leaned down and kissed her, his lips silencing her protest in the most enticing way possible. When he pulled away, she simply stared at him.

“Don’t answer me now. I know what you will say.”

Indeed, the only answer could be no if there was a way for her to go back and find her sisters.

“But just think on it. When my men return . . . answer me then.”