case, that filmgoers and readers preferred the validation of their belief that good would ultimately triumph over evil. Given their current situation, it was a philosophy they both needed to hold on to.
Emma took a sip of water from her tin cup to wet her mouth before she got to her feet and prowled the confines of her cell once more. She eventually came to a stop in the corner, hungry for physical contact with David but reluctant to impose her needs on him. Although he insisted that he’d completely recovered from his most recent interrogation, she didn’t believe him. She knew he still tired easily.
"Babe?"
She gripped the iron bars of her cell. "Yes?"
"You okay?"
"I’ll live."
He exhaled, the sound harsh in the quiet of the cellblock. "That’s not what I asked."
"Self–pity’s a wretched idea, so don’t get me started down that road again," she cautioned.
"Do you need me?"
A shiver of expectation rippled through Emma. She knew he was asking if she wanted to hold hands. Had he already guessed that she longed to share far more with him? Did he realize that she yearned to walk straight into his arms and make love with him?
"Is your shoulder bothering you?"
"Not to worry. It’s almost a hundred percent."
"I do worry," she admitted as she positioned herself between the cell wall and the bars. She extended her arm, feeling the clasp of David’s large hand as it closed over hers a moment later. She sighed, grateful for his touch.
Her eyes fell closed. Slowly, surely, and with the silence borne of total concentration, he soothed and aroused her with the sensuality of his touch. Nudging her hand to the left, he slid his fingertips to the back of her hand, around the plump ridge of flesh at the base of her thumb, and then into the center of her palm.
Emma held her breath while he traced expanding circles of sensation into her sensitive skin, sensations that sent her pulse racing and her blood pounding through her veins. She closed her hand, capturing his fingers. She gathered them together so that the tips rested in the center of her cupped palm, slowly stroking the length of his fingers with the smooth edges of her nails. She stroked up and down… up and down… up and down… until she heard him groan. The primal sound stirred her to the depths of her soul, her body melting with need.
She felt his hand tremble, but he didn’t pull away. A shudder of arousal swept over her like a brushfire. She heard his ragged exhalation, felt the tremors that shook his body. A sensual lethargy began to envelop her.
Tingling warmth drifted across her palm, up her arm, and into her body. Biting her lip to smother a cry of need, Emma felt her breasts swell and her nipples tighten.
Heat swirled inside her. Flames ignited deep within, scorching her nerve endings and shattering what remained of her composure. Tears filled her eyes. She teetered between seductive torment and the emotional anguish of trying to deny her desire for David.
Emma ached with hunger. Tears spilled form her eyes and trailed down her cheeks. "David…" she breathed, her voice riddled with desire and frustration and a hundred other unvoiced emotions.
David fought his own battle for control. His breathing grew even more ragged. He laced their fingers together, but he said nothing. He couldn’t.
Emma swallowed her tears. "Forgive me."
"Nothing… to forgive," he finally managed through gritted teeth. "You’re the most volatile thing I’ve ever touched, Emma Hamilton."
"Should I apologize?"
He laughed, but the sound ended on a low groan. He needed her so badly, his body screamed for release. "I wouldn’t want you any other way."
They remained connected for several silent minutes. The call to prayers sounded over the loudspeaker in the adjacent courtyard, but neither Emma nor David moved.
"Were you telling me the truth before?" she asked softly.
"About what?"
"Your shoulder really is better?"
"Yeah, and the bruises are starting to fade. I’m
Emma took a sip of water from her tin cup to wet her mouth before she got to her feet and prowled the confines of her cell once more. She eventually came to a stop in the corner, hungry for physical contact with David but reluctant to impose her needs on him. Although he insisted that he’d completely recovered from his most recent interrogation, she didn’t believe him. She knew he still tired easily.
"Babe?"
She gripped the iron bars of her cell. "Yes?"
"You okay?"
"I’ll live."
He exhaled, the sound harsh in the quiet of the cellblock. "That’s not what I asked."
"Self–pity’s a wretched idea, so don’t get me started down that road again," she cautioned.
"Do you need me?"
A shiver of expectation rippled through Emma. She knew he was asking if she wanted to hold hands. Had he already guessed that she longed to share far more with him? Did he realize that she yearned to walk straight into his arms and make love with him?
"Is your shoulder bothering you?"
"Not to worry. It’s almost a hundred percent."
"I do worry," she admitted as she positioned herself between the cell wall and the bars. She extended her arm, feeling the clasp of David’s large hand as it closed over hers a moment later. She sighed, grateful for his touch.
Her eyes fell closed. Slowly, surely, and with the silence borne of total concentration, he soothed and aroused her with the sensuality of his touch. Nudging her hand to the left, he slid his fingertips to the back of her hand, around the plump ridge of flesh at the base of her thumb, and then into the center of her palm.
Emma held her breath while he traced expanding circles of sensation into her sensitive skin, sensations that sent her pulse racing and her blood pounding through her veins. She closed her hand, capturing his fingers. She gathered them together so that the tips rested in the center of her cupped palm, slowly stroking the length of his fingers with the smooth edges of her nails. She stroked up and down… up and down… up and down… until she heard him groan. The primal sound stirred her to the depths of her soul, her body melting with need.
She felt his hand tremble, but he didn’t pull away. A shudder of arousal swept over her like a brushfire. She heard his ragged exhalation, felt the tremors that shook his body. A sensual lethargy began to envelop her.
Tingling warmth drifted across her palm, up her arm, and into her body. Biting her lip to smother a cry of need, Emma felt her breasts swell and her nipples tighten.
Heat swirled inside her. Flames ignited deep within, scorching her nerve endings and shattering what remained of her composure. Tears filled her eyes. She teetered between seductive torment and the emotional anguish of trying to deny her desire for David.
Emma ached with hunger. Tears spilled form her eyes and trailed down her cheeks. "David…" she breathed, her voice riddled with desire and frustration and a hundred other unvoiced emotions.
David fought his own battle for control. His breathing grew even more ragged. He laced their fingers together, but he said nothing. He couldn’t.
Emma swallowed her tears. "Forgive me."
"Nothing… to forgive," he finally managed through gritted teeth. "You’re the most volatile thing I’ve ever touched, Emma Hamilton."
"Should I apologize?"
He laughed, but the sound ended on a low groan. He needed her so badly, his body screamed for release. "I wouldn’t want you any other way."
They remained connected for several silent minutes. The call to prayers sounded over the loudspeaker in the adjacent courtyard, but neither Emma nor David moved.
"Were you telling me the truth before?" she asked softly.
"About what?"
"Your shoulder really is better?"
"Yeah, and the bruises are starting to fade. I’m
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