On a gasp she sealed them safely into the closet. There was no time to strip naked, even if it were wise… which for certain it was not. Between them they fumbled themselves naked enough to achieve their mating, and when he was sure she could take him in he wrapped her legs about his waist and breached her, and after that did his best to make sure she wasn’t sorry. His own release followed soon after hers, years of drought doused in a blinding flood of pleasure.

“Oh… oh, Morgan…” Sighing, content to have him bear her full weight, Maris dropped her head to his shoulder. “I’ve been dreaming of that ever since the night we met. I knew it would be wonderful. No, glorious.”

As cold, of a sudden, as he’d been hot moments before, sickened to retching by what he’d just done, Morgan eased apart their sated bodies and set Maris on her feet.

“We must put ourselves to rights. Lace your bodice and smooth your hair.”

“Morgan?” Sounding hurt, she touched her fingers to his face. “Are you angry?”

He had no idea. He felt so much it was the same as feeling nothing. “Of course not.”

“Then I hope you don’t feel guilty,” she said, her voice more sharp than cajoling. “We’re to be handfast. We took our first pleasure a little early. There’s no shame in that.”

If he offended her, if he caused her even a moment of doubt, she could cry rape and see him ruined. So he kissed her swollen lips.

“No guilt, Maris. No shame, or regret. I am simply lost for words.”

And that was not a lie.

“Morgan…” Smiling now, Maris kissed him. Not ravenous this time, but sweet. Almost chaste. The taste of her did nothing to ease the gripe in his guts. “We’re well suited, you and I. It’s good to know such things. And when we can take our pleasure in a bed, and not a closet, can’t you imagine how it will be?” Eyes glinting, she nipped his bottom lip with her teeth. “Exquisite.”

Even as she stirred him anew, he felt himself recoil. There was something predatory in her passion, an unwelcome greed in the way she danced her fingers over his groin. As though he were her possession. As though he’d just sold himself to her.

“We shouldn’t linger, Maris,” he said, capturing her hand in his. “If it’s safe to go, you should go. I’ll follow discreetly.”

She pressed her ear to the closet door, waited, then unwarded it and slipped out, extinguishing the glimfire she’d conjured with a careless finger-snap. Plunged into darkness, he let himself sag against the nearest shelf. The lingering remnants of pleasure sparked in his cooling blood, defying his revulsion at such a brute and hasty coupling.