Darcy Branwyn

She looked at him from over her shoulder, biting down on her lip again; driving him crazy. And then she nodded.

“I’ll bite that lip too,” he said.

“I believe you.”

“You’re starting to yes, but I think it’s going to take some time. You’re not an easy one to win over.”

“Win over?” she asked breathlessly as he slipped off the leather and dropped it aside.

“Yes. You still don’t quite understand how to take me at my word.”

She turned to face him with a look of defiance; as if to prove his point. “Does this have to do with the repercussions for my actions, my lord?”

He gave her a look that would have set most men back, but all she did was to bite her lip and flush some more. He thought he’d known lust, but this woman was more than he’d ever felt before. It was as if everything he could desire was in her, along with things he’d never even considered before.

He backed her against the tree, took hold of both of her wrists and lifted them over her head, pinning them there with one hand. “What did you call me?”

She swallowed audibly. “Well, I would’ve called you, John or Johnny, but I think that no matter what I called you I would’ve found myself backed against this tree.”

“Actually, it was the lip bite that sent me over the edge.”

“Oh…”

“But I think there are repercussions for the both of them.”

“What kind?” she said, her voice not carrying.

He reached up under her tunic. “This kind.” And then he cupped her bare breast in his hand, Alana arching her neck to him as if she couldn’t help herself.