Page 86 of The Laird’s Lost Wife

He pressed his palms against her knees, his heat seeping through the fabric. He shifted, before she felt his warm fingers curl around her bare ankle.

Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back and tracked the progress of his hand up her leg. The touch stroked up the curve of her calf, over her knee, and up her thigh. Goose pimples spread across her skin.

He leaned in, his weight coming down against her knees. Opening her eyes, she glanced down at him. Her breath caught in her throat; already she was at a loss for words.

Why does he do this to me? How can he do this to me?

He grinned at her, his eyes dark and hungry. When his fingers slid against her core, she let out a shuddering gasp, her eyes closing once more.

“Ah-Ah-Ah,” he murmured. “Daenae close yer eyes. I want ye to look at me.”

She forced her eyes open, peering down at him.

That smile still lingered on his lips. One hand still stroked between her legs, and the other pushed up the heavy layers of her skirts. She drew her lower lip between her teeth and curled her fingers around the edge of the desk. The wood bit into her skin, but she was only vaguely aware of the discomfort.

Hunter crawled forward, his shoulders pressing against her thighs, and placed a kiss on her stomach. She couldn’t feel it, of course, not through the layers of her dress.

Suddenly, she wished nothing more than for the dress to be gone.

Then he moved back, holding her gaze, and lowered his head. There was a split-second before her brain caught up to her body and she realized what had happened.

His tongue slid against her folds, and she gasped aloud, her back arching. She wanted to touch him, to pull at his shoulders or hair, but she was almost sure that if she released the edge of the desk, she’d topple backward, he would stop touching her, and she would… would what? Die?

His tongue twisted nimbly, sending tendrils of pleasure shooting through her spine, intense enough to make her see stars behind her lids.

Yes, behind her lids, because she’d closed her eyes despite what he’d requested, and she had put a hand on his shoulder after all, her fingertips pressing into the muscle. She could feel his fingers around her knee, holding her in place. His free hand trailed up her thigh once more, and his fingers slid against her core, heightening her pleasure.

It really seemed that she might explode, or that something would happen, because it was all too much and not nearly enough.

Her climax crashed over her, enough to make her cry out and tip her head back, back arching, thighs trembling. Molten heat trickled through her veins, and she let out a long, ragged breath.

Had she been holding her breath?

She had!

Hunter pulled back, his lips glistening, his eyes glazed, and pressed his stubbled cheek against her thigh, panting for breath.

After a moment, he leaned back a little, tugging down her skirt to at least cover her knees.

“Well, lass,” he rasped, “I think it’s safe to say that ye liked that a good deal more than what was proper.”

If Daphne could have formed words, she would have said something witty, no doubt. A sharp retort, something clever.

Perhaps an offer to reciprocate, because that was only fair, and fairness mattered.

But she never found out what she was going to do or say, because at that moment, he surged up, cupped her cheeks in his hands, and kissed her.

CHAPTER 20

Daphne made no move to pull away from his kiss. If anything, she relaxed into him, her arms winding around his neck.

He had stinging bruises on his shoulders where her fingers had unintentionally dug in, but he didn’t mind. No, he’d wear the marks like badges of honor.

She must be able to taste herself on his tongue, and that thought made him tingle all over with a fresh rush of desire.

This time, he was determined there would be more. What that meant, he couldn’t quite say, but they could find out together, couldn’t they?

They pulled apart, their breathing ragged.