Passionate Pursuit – erotic historical – book three Dangerous Desires series
Is their passion strong enough to break her chains?
Andalucía, Spain, 1489: Innocent Beatriz is desperate to escape the threat of a miserable marriage to a cruel Marquis. Forced into the betrothal by her ruthless merchant papá, her only hope is to conceal her identity and become a servant in a nearby castle—a life drastically different from her comfortable upbringing.
Tomás doesn’t know what to make of his well-spoken new servant girl. Her beauty and charm captivates the military hero; her mysterious nature intrigues him. And the desire she ignites burns brighter with each glance, as does his longing to claim her for his own.
Beatriz can’t resist Tomás’ passion nor deny the heat of her own. But neither the lush countryside nor the walls of the opulent Moorish castle can entirely protect her—and if he were to discover her secret, she could be torn away from him forever. Yet how can she sustain his love if she’s living a lie?
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Tomás cleared his throat. “Had enough?”
Never. She would always desire him. “My belly should be quiet for the rest of the day. You?”
“Filled to bursting.” He sagged to the blanket, arm pillowing his head, and took her in.
A pulse beat hard in Beatriz’s throat. Surely, he could see her desire, as great as his, his features flooded with yearning, eyes hooded.
She’d never faced a moment such as this with another friend. Lightheaded, she tried to control herself. “Would you like me to read to you now?”
“If you want.”
What she wanted had nothing to do with El Cid’s tale. She opened the book to the page where they left off. Her hands trembled, her hunger for him spiking again, growing unruly. She cleared her throat and began to read, not hearing anything she said. Blood kept rushing in her ears, her pulse pounding loudly.
Somehow, she reached the end of the page and turned to the next.
Tomás captured a tress.
His touch registered in her core. Stoically, she resumed reading. He wound her lock around his fingers. Pretending not to notice, she pressed on.
So did he, winding her hair around his hand, easing her closer.
She dropped the book and fit her mouth to his.
Growling, he drove his fingers through her hair.
Only death would pull her away.
With his face cradled in her hands, she drew her thumbs over his bristly cheeks and parted her lips to his, demanding he fill her.
Tomás speared his tongue inside. She suckled him greedily, her mouth pressed so firmly to his, her teeth dug into her bottom lip. She suffered the pain without complaint, angling her head to the right and left, trying to get closer, unable to do so.
He made an uncivilized noise, slightly feral, decidedly base.
Excitement made her hot. Yearning made her weak.
He rolled them over. She squealed.
Once on top, he muffled whatever sounds she made with his impassioned kiss. She rested her leg on his and held him tightly so he couldn’t get away. He cupped her breast as he had in his study, though bolder now, squeezing, dragging his thumb over her nipple.
A pleasant ache registered between her thighs.
He ground his hips against hers, his shaft thick, hard, insistent, everything she required and couldn’t have.
Unsettled, she released him and pulled her mouth free before they lay together and she brought him scandal or shame. Tears stung her eyes.
Concern tightened his features. “You have nothing to fear.”
“We have everything to fear.”
“No. Listen to me. I would never compromise your virginity. I promise you.”
She didn’t understand. “What then? We kiss as we have been until we drive ourselves mad?”
“Hardly.” His shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.
She frowned. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Never.” He grew serious. “We can enjoy each other without regret.”
Only if they were married.
Her hope soared and crashed as quickly. He could never wed her. Even if he were reckless enough to suggest such a thing, she wasn’t free to wed him. Surely, he meant something else. “What are you talking about?”
“If I touch you with naught but my lips, tongue, and hands, nothing untoward will happen.” He rested his palm on her mound.
Heat shot to her face, though not from shame. Exquisite feelings barreled through her, overwhelming need she hadn’t known until now. Longing so rich she couldn’t imagine how she’d survived without it. “What a genius you are. I want to do the same with you.” She touched his rigid shaft.
Tomás trembled. “Of course—wait. You do know what this involves, no?”
“You pleasure me with your hands, mouth, and tongue and I do the same to you. I had no idea such a thing was possible.”
“Most women refuse to allow such things.”
“I consider them fools.”
“Remove your clothes.” He tugged her to a sitting position and pulled up his shirt.
She glanced over both shoulders. “What if someone comes upon us?”
“No one will. All the servants’ tasks keep them far from this spot. Nuncio knows better than to approach, unless he wants me to toss him off the hill.” Tomás wiggled his eyebrows. “This is what friends do for each other.”
Beatriz giggled, not caring how foolish she sounded. No one could hear or see how she behaved. The Church and society would certainly condemn her for the coming pleasure, calling her vulgar. She had too little time to spend with Tomás to worry about decency. Her future held naught but loneliness. For these few moments, she wanted him to desire, pleasure, and love her beyond belief.
After pulling off her shoes, stockings, and tunic, she set to work on the endless laces on her gown.
Tomás piled boots and clothes nearby.
She stilled at his male beauty. Smooth bronze skin taut with youth, his muscles superbly defined. His biceps spoke of a man who’d known hard physical labor for years on end. His tiny nipples were dark brown, resembling newly tilled earth, a faint scar near the right one, another on his firm belly below his navel.
Wanting to touch every part of him and not knowing where to begin, she simply gaped.
He rested his hand on her thigh. “Are you pleased?”
His rigid member jutted from a thatch of brown curls, the crown plump and reddened with passion, the shaft thick with lust. Veins traveled up the magnificent column, each so prominent she wanted to touch and lick them.
She nodded. “Exceedingly pleased.”
“Good. Do the rest of your clothes come off, or do I only guess at your beauty?”