Page 96 of What a Highlander’s Got to Do

She moaned as he pierced her and he stopped until she glared down at him and demanded more.

Ah, yes. His Isobel was the perfect woman.

After he made her come again, he levered over her, lifting his kilt and positioning himself at her entrance.

He stared at her then, waiting.

When she met his eye, he smiled and said, “Are you ready, lass?”

He loved that she shuddered.

“Aye,” she whispered, lifting her hands to his shoulders. “Aye.”

And he thrust.

Gently. Slowly. As gently and slowly as he could manage, because his passion was nearly off leash, his fortitude at its end.

She spread her legs wider and moaned as he went deeper, and then, when she closed on him, he made some feral sound as well.

This was perfect. Divine. Better than anything in this world.

He wanted to stay there, nested deep within her forever, but the beast within him demanded more.

He grit his teeth and withdrew—a delicious agony—and then entered her again.

And again, her soft, wet body met him with a tight embrace.

“Ach, Nick,” she whimpered. “More. Please.”

She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips and tried to guide him, and he let her. Because the movement she ached for was the one he craved as well.

Their joining went quickly from a slow, easy coupling to something fast and feral. Something wild and untamed and blindingly perfect.

At her cries of encouragement and command, he pounded into her, faster, harder, rougher.

She came again, around him, in a frenzy that made him mad with wanting. A pressure built in his lower body, a burning need to release. But it was more than a simple physical necessity.

It was a spiritual one as well.

He wanted, needed, to claim her once more. To make her his forever.

His pace increased, as did his furor. Everything he knew shrank to this one point of their connection. The two of them together in bliss.

And then . . . he soared. Soared into the heavens on wings of ecstasy, with Isobel in his arms.

The delight was unending, racking him long after he had gently disengaged and rolled to the side, taking her with him in his arms.

He held her as she caught her breath, and he caught his. Found his footing, again, in this mundane world.

God, he loved her.

She was perfect.

She would make a perfect wife, now that she was his.

“That was wonderful,” she said, in a sleepy, satisfied tone.

“It was.” He kissed her brow.