Brienna woke abruptly to find Brogan over her. His hand clamped her mouth shut to cut off all sounds of her protest before they dared to escape. She couldn't see him in the dark. His hot breath came close to her head and he buried his face into her hair. His weight was comfortable, pleasing, and desirable. Immediately she wished they'd gone to sleep on better terms. In that way, she'd not feel so foolish in yielding to his covetous touch.
She had felt from the start, Brogan would not rape her. His opportunities to do so came and went. She, on the other hand, recognized her wicked actions practically goading him into the act every chance she got. When they came together, as she knew they soon would, it would not be under force.
The hardness of his arms, his legs, and his stomach slid up her side. It brought awake the dreams she had been having of him in her sleep. The secure, protective sensation spiraled around her soul. It tied to the belief here was a man with whom she might enjoy a sexual exploit. The man definitely could warm her heart to the idea of love.
The quietness of his voice prompted her to raise her hand to his broad shoulder. Not to fight, but to embrace, to urge him to squeeze the ache from her. Who would know what they did in the obscurity of the tent? Who would care, beyond her? Her fingers continued to glide over the edge of his thick muscled shoulder and touched a lock of his hair.
That black as coal mane fell in layered wisps to cover the back of his neck. Soft and clean, the silky locks tickled her palm. A man who took care in his appearance and hygiene was a good sign. Even the way he smelled of leather and forest did much to arouse her sense of smell. The fragrance mingled with his body's salubrious headiness and permeated her feral senses. He was handsome beyond reason—forged from the best elements God had to offer.
Brienna tired of the fight against all her desires and wrapped her arm around him in surrender.
"Hush, someone is outside our tent," he whispered in her ear.
Her eyes widened. Mortified by what she'd been thinking of; what she planned to let the man do to her made her cringe. Embarrassment heated her cheeks. No, she had to be a crimson shade of red from head to toe. Thankfully, the darkness concealed her humiliation. It hid the cherry shade of red coloring her skin. She had to contend he'd not know how submissive she prepared to be.
