Excerpt From Worth Fighting For
England, 1192
“Peter, please,” she rasped.
He kissed her again, harder, making her lips feel tender from the stubble on his jaw. He groaned, exploring her mouth with his. How had she lived without this? Need exploded over her body.
“Stop me,” he said against her mouth.
She reached up and dug her fingers into his hair instead.
“Zipporah, you need to leave. Now.”
Holding his face to hers, she kissed his hot, salty skin, dragged her teeth over his rough jaw.
“Please,” he begged. She wasn’t sure if he was asking her to stop, or to continue.
Peter caught her around the waist, lifting her feet off the ground. She was pressed between the wall and his chainmail, uncomfortable, but too dazed to care.
“I need you,” he said.
“I know.”
His arms tightened around her momentarily, then he set her down and slipped suddenly out of the alcove.
What?
“Peter, no,” she said, tears burning her eyes. “Don’t leave me.”
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Darcy Branwyn 
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