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bronze ring onto her ring finger. “Gold for the Mother.” The gold followed. “Silver for the Crone.” The final ring slid into place. He smiled, gazing down at her hand. “My betrothed.”
    â€œBetrothed?”
Is he thinking what I think he’s thinking?
“As in?”
    â€œAye. I thought we would follow the old customs.” He looked up at her through his lashes, which made Shay pretty much melt on the spot. “And perhaps wed on the full moon of November.”
    The sooner, the better
. Heat flooded her belly at the thought of some of those customs. “I’m game if you are. But for now”—she scooted over—”get your ass in this bed.”
    Bann stood up. “A moment.” He hurried out. A faint
snick
from the hallway, then he returned. “I closed Cor’s door.”
    â€œWhat about—”
    â€œHe’ll be fine.” Bann sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as her. He stood fishing in his back pocket for a moment, then paused and looked at her. “I left my wallet…”
    â€œBathroom. Left side drawer.”
    Moving with an eagerness that made her grin, Bann darted into the bathroom. A drawer opened and shut, then he returned and dropped several condoms on the nightstand.
    She made a show of counting them. “Is four enough?”
    â€œI thought of bringing the entire box, but I dinna want to show off.”
    He unzipped and dropped trou with an offhanded nonchalance that made Shay grin even wider as she shimmied out of her shirt and pajamas. Kicking his jeans aside, he ran his fingers through his hair as he walked closer.
Damn, he’s hung. Me for the win
, she thought as he clicked off the lamp and slid under the covers with her. The moonlight lay like a spare blanket over their bed.
    Reclining on his side and propped up on one elbow, Bann studied her, his eyes darkening with desire. He leaned over and kissed her, sliding his lips along hers, softly at first, then more firmly. The tip of his tongue flicked lightly, urging hers to open. To yield. She sighed softly as he explored her mouth.
    Wanting to prolong their lovemaking—
not that Bann lacks endurance
—she moved her mouth and shifted her focus to the spot under his jaw. The rasp of his stubble on her lips set her nerves on fire. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled his scent, clean and musky at the same time. With a proprietary gesture, she ran a hand along his ribs, did a loop around his chest, then finished at his hip bone. Warm skin and hard muscles and the scent of maleness and just the right amount of hair in all the right places. She traced the knob of bone, then followed the crease down to his groin. Ignoring his erection, she cupped one of his testicles, drawing out a soft groan from him.
    â€œOn your back,” she whispered, knowing he liked it when she took command of the pace. She waited until he repositioned himself, then leaned over and took his manhood in her hand. For the next few minutes, she stroked and squeezed and fondled every inch, reveling in this particular power she had over him. The power all women had over men.
    Shay felt like the war goddess, Danu herself.
    She shifted closer, still stroking in a languid rhythm, fingers playing the ancient tune, and pressed the length of her body against his. Chest hairs scratched deliciously along her breasts, their nipples tightened from the friction. Lowering her head, she kissed him again, teasing the corners of his mouth with her tongue. Her hand sped up.
    His hips followed her lead. Then a strangled “wait.” He grabbed her wrist, stilling her movement, chest heaving. She could feel the sweat break out along his torso as he let out a shuddering breath. “Gods, ye’re killing me, woman.”
    â€œYou don’t like what I’m doing?”
    â€œToo well.” His voice was thick. “But I’ve had enough of hand play this past week,