To Beguile a Beast (Legend of the Four Soldiers, #3)

by Elizabeth Hoyt

“I can’t get enough of you,” Sir Alistair muttered low. A streak of desire shot through her.

“I think you are obsessed with breasts.” “No,” he murmured, levering himself up a little so he could cradle both her breasts in his big hands. He flicked her nipples idly as he talked, and she bit her lip. “I have an obsession with your breasts. I want to lick them, suck them, perhaps”—he leaned down to scrape his teeth over the curving side of one sensitive breast—“bite them.” “Bite?” she squeaked. He smiled, slowly and wickedly. “Mmm. Bite.” And he lowered his head to take her nipple very gently between his teeth. She held her breath, the threat making her clench internally. He looked into her eyes, his hair falling forward like a pirate about his face, and raked his tongue against the tip of her nipple.

“You look like a pagan sacrifice,” he growled low. “Prepared and laid out for some god to”—he leaned close and whispered in her ear—“fuck.”

She turned her head and licked at his jaw. He froze. “Don’t—” This time she carefully tested her teeth against his skin. No matter how casual his words, he was on a razor’s edge—she could tell by how stiffly he held his body—and a wicked part of her wanted to send him over that edge. Wanted to drive him to the brink of insanity. She scratched her nails down his back. “Helen,” he rasped, “that isn’t wise.” “But I don’t want to be wise,” she whispered back. That did it. Whatever thread that had held him snapped. He lunged, driving his length into her softness, pummeling her, thrusting into her, panting and uncivilized. She wrapped her arms about him and held on as he plunged and writhed above her, watching him, watching his strong, scarred face. Even when the edges of her vision blurred and pleasure began to sweep over her in hot beats, she still forced her eyes open, watching, watching. And