Taming Her Gypsy Lover Read Online Free PDF Page A

we?” She turned her head and lapped the water from his chest, licking each of his nipples in return. It was a wonderful body, now that she could admire it. His shoulders were broad and his skin was dark and smooth. And he smelled of fields and forests, fresh and wild. She ran her hands over him, down to his narrow waist, pulling her body close to his until she could feel his erection rubbing against her belly, ready for her.
    He groaned and put a finger under her chin, lifting her lips to his. And then he was kissing her again. The flavor of his mouth mingled with the taste of raindrops and the salt from his body. His hands smoothed the falling water over her, over the curves of breasts, waist and hips, pushing her down until they knelt together in the grass.
    She felt no shock when he urged her to her hands and knees. Only eagerness to offer herself like a wild thing, in the rain, to a man she had just met. He was kneeling behind her now, leaning over her to caress her breasts as she felt the slow and delicious pressure of him entering her from behind. The warm rain ran down their bodies, carrying away the last of her inhibitions as it awoke each nerve. She arched her spine and leaned back into him, feeling her body trying to close around his as he began to thrust. He was very deep inside her, so deep it almost hurt, and the gentle tickling of the raindrops was a counterpoint to the much more earthly feel of his manhood’s slide against her contracting muscles. She was immersed in his lovemaking, feeling with her whole being, inside and out. It felt good, beyond good, to be joined with him, and the sky, and the rain, as though her hold on her old life was slipping away, leaving nothing but the pleasure of his body, in hers.
    And then he braced himself on one hand and slid the other between her legs. At the first touch she lost herself, shaking against him, moaning, and then crying out, arching her hips, pulling away and then pushing back against him to deepen his thrusts.
    “Give yourself to me,” he muttered. “Again. Do not fight it. Hold nothing back.” And then he groaned, past the ability to speak, primal in his response.
    He wanted her. Not jewels or family, or even the pleasureless joining that she had feared would be her future with Geoffrey. Chal wanted her to feel as he did, and to love him back with the intensity he brought to the act.
    “Chal.” First she whispered. Then she cried out loud. “Chal, I am yours.”
    He gave an answering cry of triumph as they broke together, shaking with passion and the coolness of the rain.
    When they were finished, he rolled off her, onto his back in the grass. She collapsed on top of him, laughing, kissing, and at peace.
    Too soon, he sat up, and offered his hand to help her to her feet. When she gave a small groan of protest and held out her arms to draw him back to her, he said, “It is warm enough now, but too long and we will take a chill. It is too wet to unpack the wagon and light a fire, but I will find a blanket, so that we might dry ourselves. And then we must keep each other warm and try to sleep.”
    It should have been a hardship, she was sure, managing without a proper bed. But instead, it made her smile. All she could hear in the last sentence was that they would be lying close together, in each other’s arms for the whole of the night. As he went to the wagon, she entered the cottage and placed his coat over her clothing to create a makeshift mattress. When the two of them had dried off and settled into it, spreading her cloak over all, it was almost comfortable. Though they both laughed at the tendency of his feet to poke, uncovered, off the end of the table.
    “I must find some more suitable clothing.” She smiled and stretched against him, and fitted her body to his. “I do not think this dress will do for travel as well as it does for bedding. But it is the plainest I had.”
    He wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes. “In the morning,