Darcy Branwyn

Worth Fighting For:

England, 1192

…His fingers touched her face, curled around her neck and tipped her further into him, her jaw unclamping naturally.

“That’s better,” he breathed, and then his tongue touched her front teeth, reached further into her mouth and found her tongue with his own.

Oh…

She groaned, and then stopped herself self-consciously.

“You’re all right,” he soothed, bringing her back to him and kissing her again, slowly, the tip of his tongue skimming her lower lip.

“You don’t have to hide that from me,” he told her. His tongue found hers again and she melted into him, leaning into his chest, feeling his heart against the palm of her hand.

She couldn’t be doing this. She couldn’t… What had he said, that he would make her want him; make her love him…