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His words make me angry enough to hiss, “I don’t belong to you.”
His sexy, tattooed fingers trail down my body with a featherlight touch. He repeats, “Dinnae hide what is mine.”
He pulls my hands away, leaving me naked, bared to him, vulnerable. I tremble under his gaze, feeling every inch of my skin tingle with anticipation.
“Yer so fucking beautiful.” He gives me that grin, the one with a touch of the devil in it, the one that makes me feel a heavy ache in my womb.
“I’m not,” I whisper.
“Ye are.” His eyes are hungry, and they devour every inch of my naked body. “Every wee bit of you.”
The look momentarily fogs my addled brain. I’m lost in his good looks, that deep, commanding voice, and those gorgeous green eyes. Eyes that are begging for me, needing something from me, from my body—eyes that leave me wondering what it would feel like to have him deep inside me instead of focusing on my own desperate need…
To escape.
"You are beautiful," he murmurs, cupping my face. "And you belong to me now. I’ll try to be patient, but I’ll only wait so long till I drag you down the aisle and make you my wife.”
“Drag me you’ll have to do.” It’s a weak protest at best.
But what sort of woman would I be if I dinnae protest at all?
My heart thuds in my chest at his closeness, his heat, and the brush of his rough fingers—fear and desire warring within me. Part of me still wants to run away, to escape this seemingly dangerous situation. But another part of me craves the unknown, the thrill of being with a man.
With him, who is so commanding. Dominating. Sexy.
He leads me to the bed and gently pushes me down onto it, climbing on top of me and pinning my arms above my head. The full breadth of his chest overwhelms me as he hovers over me. His size, his strength, his will…
He stares down with that look; the look that makes my belly flip and my tongue go numb. He holds secrets in those eyes, things he could do to me, that he wants to do to me, that, when he gets his way, he most certainly will do to me.
“Tell me, Fiona.” He parts that rugged mouth of his, that devilish grin tugging at the corners of it as always, thick with confidence and control as if it’s never occurred to him that I might not want him pinning me to this bed, his mouth a butterfly’s wing beat away from mine. Dipping strong fingers to ease the ache between my thighs, he demands, “How long will ye make me wait?”
My answer is to let my head loll to the side, my lips parting, my eyes closing, and lose myself in his touch. A deep chuckle, then the brush of his beard against my naked skin as he plants a trail of hot kisses along the side of my neck.
He’s fully dressed and almost twice my size and weight. I lay there, helpless, not wanting to cave to his touch. My hips betray me, swaying with the abandon of a much more experienced woman. The things he does to me with those fingers make me lose control.
“Please,” I beg. That warm, wet wanting deepens as pleasure mounts; his rough fingers circle my clit, and I gasp.
“Please, what, love? Tell me what you want.”
His arousal presses against me as he grinds his hips into mine. The heat between us is almost suffocating as I struggle to catch my breath.
"Do you want me?" he growls into my ear, nipping at the lobe.
“No,” I lie desperately, unable to find more words to express my emotions.
His lips crash down on mine in a bruising kiss before trailing lower down my body. He pays attention to every curve and dip, ensuring he doesn’t miss an inch of skin. His beard claims me as well, brushing over my skin.
When his hot breath and lashing tongue reach between my bare legs, I can feel myself growing slick with need. His fingers tease at first before delving deeper inside of me, causing moans to escape from deep within my throat.
But he’s not yet kissed me there.
He hovers, teasing, kissing, and nipping at every inch of flesh that isn’t where I need him, all while moving his fingers inside me.
“Callum…”
He murmurs along the inside of my thigh. “Yes, wife?”
“I’m not your wife!” I gasp. My hands finally come to life, reaching down and tangling in his thick hair. “No. Don’t.”
