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“What?” he asked, kissing her again.
Oh dear Lord, those lips… He kissed her gently once, teasing her. Then a second time, bringing her blood seething like a flow of lava.
“You need to marry her,” she said through those kisses.
“Nae, I dinna,” he said, dipping his tongue between her lips, invading her mouth. “Nae more.”
As his tongue began a teasing, lashing, seductive dance against hers, all thoughts disappeared, and her head went blank. “Hmmmm,” she moaned into his lips.
The electricity she’d always felt when he touched her came back a hundredfold. Meeting his skillful tongue, she felt that an electromagnetic field went through her body, charging her every cell with life and energy and light. She rubbed against him as he teased and licked her tongue like he couldn’t get enough of her. Like he’d finally gotten his prize.
He buried his fingers in her hair and held her head like a precious gift. Probing, playing, his sleek tongue glided against hers, and her insides burned and squeezed.
He smoothed his hands down her neck and farther down her body. His fingers brushed against the naked skin of her back, the touch like a brush of heat. Even through the material of her sleeves, her skin tingled as his hands went down her arms. She realized she was wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. He grabbed the edges of her torn dress and began kissing down her jaw and her neck, spreading small bursts of pleasure through her.
He was so hot, as though he were running a fever, and smelled like the Highlands: woods and earth, thistle and heather, and something otherworldly and magical. He was a Highland warrior, making love to her, impairing her thoughts. She felt as if she were in a dream.
He leaned back a little as he dragged the edges of her dress down her chest and stared there.
Right…her wound.
“Doesna it hurt?” he asked.
There was no such thing as hurt in a world where he filled her whole body with endorphins. “No.”
“Good.”
With one swift movement, he drew her dress all the way down to her waist, exposing her breasts. He stared at them with awe and hunger, and her stomach squeezed in delicious anticipation.
“By God’s body, lass, those are beautiful breasts,” he whispered and leaned down.
He cupped one breast with his hand and took her nipple in his mouth, sucking it in. His mouth was warm and soft and wet around her flesh. He tugged and gently nibbled, and a shudder ran through her. She put her fingers through his silky hair, as he massaged her second breast. Her skin feeling flushed and burning, she tilted her head back and arched into him, allowing him the most access she could.
Growling like a wolf, he teased her breasts until she was breathless and so pliable he could knead her like Play-Doh. He leaned back and pulled his tunic over his shoulders, and she froze, mesmerized by the sight of mighty pecs and a hard stomach with six distinct bulges. His shoulders were broad, his biceps like those of a Viking who rowed daily. Fine dark hair covered his upper chest, and she put her palm on his chest to feel it. Soft…
On a whim, she leaned down and kissed him under the collarbone, inhaling his masculine tang, the musk of his skin that made her want to straddle and ride him. She put out her tongue and licked down towards one of his nipples, feeling with satisfaction how his muscles hardened and a shudder ran through him. She found the nipple, small and hard, and licked around it.
“Ah, God’s arse, lass…” he spat. “What are ye—”
“Do you like it?” she whispered as she looked up at him.
“I like this more.” He lifted her and put her on his lap so that her legs were on either side of his hips. Their naked stomachs flattened against each other—hers soft and squishy, his hard. His chest firm against hers, her breasts tingled and her nipples drew into two hard buds. She was suddenly aware that she didn’t have any underwear on—medieval women didn’t use them—and that her very wet sex was nestled against his very hard cock.
A fact that he became aware of, too, as he pushed his hips into hers. The pressure on her clit made her gasp as a burst of liquid pleasure spread through her core.
“Aye, lass,” he growled against her neck. “Moan, groan, sing my name. I’ve wanted ye since the moment ye slapped me.”
Undoing his leather belt, she giggled a little. But as she dragged his breeches down and revealed a triangle of hard muscle pointing towards a huge cock that was long, and looked as hard as marble, all her humor died. She gulped, imagining it buried inside her to the hilt.
His sex jolted.
“Lass…” he groaned. “Enough of waiting. Enough of looking. Enough. God knows, I’ve been waiting for ye all my life. Ye’re my only desire.”
He wrapped his arms around her and flipped her onto her back. She lost her breath for a moment and inhaled as his pleasant weight settled on top of her, pinning her to the bed.
“Damn it to hell, what are ye doing to me,” he whispered and kissed her again.
This kiss was different. Demanding. Possessive. Taking.
