Page 83 of Steel & Surrender

Whorls of crisp, dark hair covered his chest, tapering down to his belly.

Brìghde’s heart started to thump hard against her ribs as she reached out and caressed his skin. He felt so good under her fingertips and palms.

But when her hands dropped lower to his braies, her breathing caught.

His erection had tented the thick material, but not only that—the crown of it had pushed its way eagerly up, breaching his waistband.

Murmuring an oath under her breath, she acted on instinct, rubbing her palm across its swollen tip. Her breath hitched when she discovered it was wet, beaded with milky liquid.

Greig’s breath punched out of him in a rough groan, his head dropping back as if the touch had undone him.

Wild excitement twisted inside Brìghde. She liked having him in her thrall like this. She loved seeing emotion flicker across his face. It really was something to behold.

She started to fumble at the laces to his braies then, but he stopped her, fingers fastening around her wrist. “We should stop there for the moment,” he said, voice strained. “Or this will be over far too soon.” And with that, eyes glinting in the lantern-light, he reached out and began to unlace the front of her kirtle.

The warm, close air inside the forge—for despite that she hadn’t worked today, heat lingered in this place long after the fire went out—feathered across her naked breasts.

Then he bent his head, cupping them in his large hands and lifting them to his lips.

And then he began to suck, slowly and languidly, as he had on the summit of Ben More, not rushing now, but savoring her. “Christ, ye have beautiful paps,” he murmured against one of her breasts.

Warmth rolled over Brìghde. As inflamed as she was by his words, she was also a trifle embarrassed. “I’ve always thought my nipples were a bit big,” she murmured. “Out of proportion with everything else.”

He breathed an oath. “No, lass, they’re … perfect.”

And with that, he resumed caressing them, sucking, lathing each swollen peak with his tongue before grazing his teeth over the sensitive tips.

And by the time he was done, Brìghde had slumped back against the door, trembling.

His breathing ragged now, Greig took her by the hand and drew her with him away from the door to the bench, a few feet down from where the lantern glowed.

And then, in one swift movement, he slid his hands down her back, past where the material had bunched at her waist, and lifted her easily up onto the bench.

A sharp gasp escaped Brìghde. She wasn’t a small woman, yet he’d managed that easily.

Her heart started to pound then, as she realized the bench was the perfect height for coupling. Their groins were level now.

He hiked up her skirts then, parting her legs wide.

Her breathing caught, nervousness assailing her.

As much as she wanted this man, she was also aware that all of this was new. She had no idea how it would feel to be touched intimately by him, or to join with him. And despite her eagerness and boldness earlier, she suddenly felt out of her depth.

For a heartbeat, she wondered if she had been a fool.

To her surprise, he stepped between her spread thighs, his fingers tracing her jaw and raising her chin, so their gazes met once more.

“Tell me to stop,” he said huskily, “and I will. We don’t have to take things any further.”

Their gazes locked, and her nervousness eased. But suddenly, the thought of breaking things off, of ending this delicious exploration, made Brìghde’s belly twist.

No, she couldn’t.

She needed him to touch her.

She needed to know what being taken by Greig Maclean was like.

She wasn’t a fool. She understood they had no future.