Excerpt from Raven Feathers: The Awakening...

His hand fumbled with the latch as his mouth captured hers once again. She tried to talk, but it was impossible. She too was lost, filled with ache, need, desire that spiraled through her and stole her breath. The door crashed open, and they practically fell inside. His body forced her across the room, his hands struggling with the laces of her dress. A ripping sound filled her ears as he frantically tore at the ties. When his hand plunged inside the bodice, covering her breast, kneading, trying to touch every inch of her flesh, fire coursed through her body, and she forgot every word she needed to say. His mouth found hers again. She turned her face, needing him to know how much he meant to her. "Don't ever leave me like that again."

"No, Brenna, never."

"Promise me."

"I promise. I will say anything you want."

He clawed at her skirt, sweeping it up. He pushed her toward the curtain, practically ripping it from the ceiling as he yanked it away. Brenna's hand caught the edge of his breeches, drawing him closer, needing him closer, and he smashed into her, raking his hands into her hair and locking his mouth on hers. They fell to the bed, and she clutched the back of his neck. His hand wrenched the dress above her hips, the calluses of his hand rough on the skin of her thigh. He paused only a moment to tear at the strings of his breeches. He pushed the leather over his hips with one hand while his knee forced her legs apart. "I wanted it to be different than this the first time." He reached between them, and she felt a feathery whisper between her legs. "But I can't stop. I need you now."

"No, don't stop," she whispered. "I need you too."

He groaned. "Are you willing? Please tell me you're willing."

"Aye," she gasped. She pulled him closer.

"And you want me?"

"Only you," she whispered. "Don't think, don't talk, and for God's sake, don't stop."

The feathery whisper turned into a hard prodding that offered the fulfillment of a promise. She opened her thighs wider to accept him. She focused on his eyes, dark, deep pools of hunger. She grabbed his hips and yanked him closer.

"What's taking so long?" she grumbled. "We've waited too long already."

Now that he was here, his flesh, his scent, the silky sweep of his hair face consumed her. And that hard length against her thigh drove her insane.

"Don't you wantó?"

"Whatever it is, not right now," Brenna said. "Push inside. Don't worry about me."

He moved his manhood, spreading their moisture across her aching flesh. The touch of him felt unbearable and Brenna arched her hips, eager to feel him inside. He spread her soft folds and for one moment Brenna tensed, preparing herself to accept him.

Tarian pushed forward, one gentle press, entering her body a fraction of an inch. Brenna held her breath.

"It might hurt," he whispered.

"I don't care."

"I'm larger than some and you're a maiden."

"Are you trying to talk me out of it now?"

"You may not like it this time."

"Then we'll do it again," she said. She grabbed his face and forced him to look at her. She gave him a stern look. "Stop talking, Tarian. We've waited long enough. I'm ready, damn it! Just make me yours."

He nodded. She tucked her face into his neck preparing for the worst. He smeared more fluid across her flesh and pulled away slightly. Just when she wondered what on earth he was doing, his hips rose under her hands, and he slid a little further between her folds. She waited and waited and nothing else happened. She knew nothing about lovemaking, but there had to be more than that. He stiffened above her.

"Come on!" she cried. "Don't stop. I can't wait any longer. What are you doing? I can't feel you."

"Bloody hell," he groaned.

His head fell to her shoulder and his hand locked on her hip. Tightened, clenched. His breathing changed, becoming ragged, tortured. She tugged at his hair, trying to raise his head, seeking his mouth.

"Don't stop now! Please, Tarian."

He shoved himself away from her and stood. Hands on hips, he mumbled and muttered in his strange words. He shot a glare toward her. The heat in his eyes had vanished. His eyes had turned cold, angry. Had she done something wrong? She'd barely done anything at all. She sat up, determined to finish this once and for all.

"Shouldn't you push inside me? Please, tell me there's more than that."

He wasn't even listening to her.

"Damn it, Brenna," he snarled. His hand waved in the air toward the trundle. "Was she not worth mentioning?"