Page 59 of Highlander's Warrior Lass

“Lass,” Erik croaked as he saw her.

She closed the distance between them, and his hands buried into her hair, knocking the flowers eschew that her sisters had placed in her tresses. His kiss was rough but full of passion, and Finley gasped against him, her body feeling as if it were afire.

When his hands slid over the straps to the shift, she allowed him to push them aside, pulling the garment down over her hips and puddling on the floor. His mouth found her neck, then her breast, robbing Finley of her breath as his lips clamped down on her taut nipple.

“Erik.”

“Relax, Wife,” he whispered against her skin, her heart warming at the endearment. “I’m just getting started.”

When he dropped to one knee, she froze, feeling his kisses against her bare thigh. “Wot are ye doing?” she forced out, her words strangled.

He looked up at her, and there was no other moment that would be imprinted in her mind than this one—a fierce warrior, her husband, knelt before her. “I’m worshipping ye, lass.”

When his tongue touched her there, she cried out his name, clenching her hands in his hair to both hold him there and push him away.

The pressure started to mount within her, and she bit her lip as he kissed her intimately, wondering if she was about to meet the gods herself.

“That’s it,” he said, feeling her tremble. “Come for me, lass.”

His tongue touched her swollen nub, and Finley cried out Erik’s name as the waves of pleasure overtook her, causing her to sob.

He gathered her in his arms and carried her to the bed, laying her down on the fresh sheets. “Ye’re ready for me,” he told her as he undid the buckle that held his kilt in place, the tartan of his clan. Finley didn’t avert her eyes as it fell away, and she gazed on her husband’s swollen member, her mouth going dry.

It wasn’t going to fit.

But when Erik climbed on top of her and pressed his lips to hers, she promptly forgot about it and everything else except the way he was kissing her, touching her.

His member probed her entrance, and he tore his lips from hers, looking down at her with aching tenderness. “It will hurt only for a moment,” he said, grimacing. “I dinnae wish tae hurt ye, lass.”

She threaded his hands with hers, pulling him closer. “Make me yers.”

His expression changed. “Ye have always been mine. I just didnae know it, lass.”

And he had always been hers.

When he pressed into her, she felt the flash of pain but nothing more, arching her body to accommodate his size. “Och, lass,” he said, breathing heavily. “Ye’re going tae make me shorten this by doing that.”

“Please, Erik,” she begged, her hands clutching at his arms. “Please.”

“Aye, lass,” he said, moving within her. “I know wot ye need.”

Soon she was trembling from another release, and he had his face buried into her shoulder, his movements frantic yet pleasing to Finley. Boldly, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and he pushed all the way into her, groaning as he did so. “I love ye,” he rasped, grasping her hips. “I love ye.”

“I love ye,” she echoed, meeting his thrust. She wanted to see Erik take his pleasure, and when he did, Finley added that to her memories as well, watching as her husband stiffened above her as he shouted her name.

Erik collapsed on her, and she drew her fingers over his sweaty back, her body sated. She was no longer a maiden but Erik’s wife. She would bore bairns for him, protect him with everything she had, and love him until the end of her days and beyond that. Not even death was going to separate them.

Erik groaned as he rolled off her, pulling her against his body a moment later. “Ye’re mine,” he growled in her ear, his hand splayed on her bare stomach. “Ye’re mah wife.”

“And ye’re mah husband,” she said, placing her hand on top of his. “Until our days are up on this earth.”

He pressed his lips into her hair. “And until we turn to ash.”

Finley snuggled against her husband’s strong body, and he groaned. “Dinnae do that just yet, lass.”

She felt him bump against her arse, and her curiosity peaked. “When can we do that again?”

The laugh that came out of her husband was strangled. “Och, ye are going tae be the death of me, Finley.”