Darcy Branwyn

Worth Fighting For:

England, 1192

…John shook his head. “My reputation has been well earned. I never meant for it to be that way. Whatever’s civilized in me I created for the sake of Peter and anyone else I hadn’t wanted to hurt.”

Alana took a hold of his hair with both hands, holding his face to hers. “So, let me ask you this.” She already knew the answer but she thought maybe he needed to say it out loud. “In any of the times I’ve pushed you to anger, have you ever wanted to hurt me?”

“It’s not anger I feel with you.”

“Then what is it?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure what to call it. It’s like last night, when I told you that I wanted to pound your ass into the mattress.” He winced as if he hadn’t meant to say it quite like that.

She grinned into his face. “I’m stubborn and you’re temperamental, and every time I cross you, you want to have me like you’re against four opponents with little hope of survival.”

“That’s when I feel most alive.”

“And that’s how you feel when you’re with me.”

He nodded.

“And every time you get like that, I want you to pound my ass…”

“Alana,” he groaned.

“Take me hard,” she amended. “You do realize what our marriage is bound to look like?”

“From the outside?” He ran a finger over her lower lip. “Like we’re always fighting and that I’m a tyrant.”

“And that I keep coming back for more.”…

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