She gasped when he pressed his lips to hers, and he swallowed the sound like a balm to his damaged soul. Her body relaxed against his, her spine curling into his touch as her arms wound around his neck, a vine twisting and holding him in place, just for this purpose.
For her.
To be used by her for as long as she was willing. To be absolution for his sins, proof that he could create something good and sustain it, that he was worthy—
The thought nearly choked him, hot emotion pressing against his larynx. He buried his lips in her neck, breathing her in and holding his lungs full of her until they burned, screamed for release.
“I couldnae stay away,” he said, and she stilled, then pulled back to meet his gaze.
“What do you mean?”
He pushed his words through the fist that had tightened around his throat. “I thought I could leave ye—usbehind, but I was wrong. I’m scared by how this feels.”
Before the all-too familiar panic could press in, she’d surrounded him, one warm hand on his cheek and the other flattened over his heart. “I’m frightened, too. I’ve only known you for two weeks, but when you left…”
She trailed off as he turned and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Time doesnae mean anything with you.” Every moment with her flexed and morphed into something that defied the laws of physics, both infinitesimally small and a lifetime.
“Kiss me, Callum.” She lifted onto her toes, touching her lips to his chin, his cheekbones, the bump of his nose. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”
He crashed his mouth to hers, exploring her mouth, memorizing it. The satin of her tongue grappling with his sent fire through his veins, and he did not restrain his guttural moan as he dragged his lips down the tender skin of her neck to nibble at her collarbone.
She smelled like rain, like the sky before a storm, bursting with electricity and life, terrifying and humbling and exhilarating. Her head fell back, exposing more of her skin, and he took, took, nipping and sucking, wishing to mark her as his own, his to protect, his to cherish.
“This dress…” He dragged his fingertip along the lace edging that pressed against the swell of her breasts. “I knew ye’d look bonnie in it.”
Her laughter was breathy, weak as he chased his finger with his lips. “I suspected you were responsible.”
“Ye deserve wonderful things.” He grunted as the fastenings in the back of her bodice resisted his efforts, and an amused hum resonated in her throat.
“Wonderful things without buttons, perhaps.” She stepped out of his embrace enough to turn, and he groaned at the line of atleast a thousand silk-covered buttons ranging from between her shoulder blades to the curve at the base of her spine. “You’d make a terrible ladies’ maid.”
“I dinnae deny tha’.” He pulled in a breath and forced his concentration to not tearing the dress off her. With a kiss to each inch of exposed skin, he slid every button free until the bodice hung loose, the lacy edges of her chemise peeking over her stays.
He eased her gown past her shoulders, guided it down her arms until the fabric rested at her waist, then turned her to face him. Her round cheeks flushed, dark eyes sparkling in the low light. The rapid rise and fall of her chest, her breasts straining at the edges of her chemise, matched his own, desperate and terrified, hungry and awestruck.
In one swift move, he gathered her in his arms, crossed the few steps to the bench behind her, then sat with her on his lap. She let out a squeak of surprise, grabbing his shoulders to keep herself upright. “What was that for?”
He dragged his teeth down the much-easier-to-access length of her neck, savoring her shudder of pleasure. “Ye’re a twee thing, and I’ll be of no use to you if I wrench my spine out of shape trying to kiss ye.”
Her laugh dissolved into a groan as he tugged her chemise down, exposing the soft flesh of her breast. “You’re always practical.”
“Aye,” he mumbled, then pulled her taut nipple into his mouth. But there was nothing practical, nothing rational about how his body was reacting to her, how every blood vessel seemed too full, his senses heightened until he felt near to bursting. She was shifting,rocking and moving her gorgeous plump bottom over his straining erection.
He broke off with a moan, gripping her hips as he fought to bring himself under control. “Stay still, lass. I cannae take it.”
She cocked her head. “Can’t take what? This?” Her mouth curled in a mischievous smile as she ground against his cock.
Callum barely smothered an oath, then nipped at her lips. “Wicked minx, aren’t ye?”
She raked her fingers through his hair and held, tugging the strands gently. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I am wicked.”
“No’ true.” He pressed his forehead to hers, and mercifully, she stilled. “Ye aregood, Violet, and ye should have only good things in yer life.”
Her eyes softened, examined him as though she could see through his skin to read every thought, every fear that strained to reach the surface. Without letting go of his gaze, she stood, reached behind her to release the remaining buttons of her gown. The fabric collapsed in a muted rush at her feet. There was no hesitation, no fear or disquiet as she stepped forward, straddling his thighs. His palms caught her at the waist, holding her steady with shaking hands. “You should have only good things as well.”
He brought his mouth to hers to stop the flood of words that wanted to burst out, although none of them made sense even to him. How could he feel the way he did about this woman and make her understand why he needed to leave her behind?
Her hips were rocking in earnest now, the heat of her core scalding his fingers as he slid them between the slit in her drawers. “Ye need this, don’t ye?” he growled against her throat. “Do ye need to come?”
