The waterfall came into sight as they rounded a bend, and she stopped abruptly just to stare at it. She’d always loved the majesty and elegance of waterfalls. This one was much larger than she’d pictured in her mind. It spilled in a narrow ribbon from a rocky ledge above, collecting in a wide pool made of more rock. From there it cascaded in a long veil to a deeper pool below and raced into the river itself.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Yes, it is,” Conner said.

But he was looking at her. Isabeau could see the glittering hunger intensify. They were completely alone in a wild setting. A natural setting for him. And he wasn’t tame. She felt the little thrill of fear. She didn’t want him tame. She loved the way he made her feel—a little off balance and wholly his. He stepped close to her and his hands caught hers. He brought her palms up under her breasts until the soft weight rested there and she was virtually offering him her body.

His smile was slow. Wicked. Seductive. She craved that look on his face, the hooded eyes, dark gold burning with lust for her. His mouth, so seductive and skilled. His hands, experienced, knowing just what her body needed. And the way he looked at her, as if she belonged to him, as if her body was his and he could do whatever he wanted with her. What he always wanted seemed to be to bring her to screaming, mindless pleasure.

He bent his head and drew one breast into the warmth of his mouth. Instantly her body wept with need. He tugged at the nipple with his teeth and another rush of liquid made her womb spasm and clench in emptiness. He suckled, his mouth growing hot and rough, nearly throwing her into another orgasm right there. He dropped his hand, forcing her to hold her own breast for his assaulting mouth. He slid his palm down her belly to the throbbing mound between her thighs.

Unable to stop herself she moved her hips, seeking more. He removed his hand and continued to suckle at her breast. Tiny bites accompanied the tug of his teeth on her nipple and the soothing laving of his tongue. Heat rushed through her body and then his fingers were back, tracing small circles on her inner thighs, moving upwards toward the heat of her center. His slow pace was torturous given the need building so fast and ferocious in her.

“Please,” she whispered before she could stop herself. Her blood pounded in her veins, thundered in her ears and throbbed deep in her sheath.