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As her stare ventured from his, she realised he dressed—not even dressed—wrapped solely in his soft tartan. Never a kilt, nothing less than the traditional tartan for him. Under it, his god-like frame lay nude. Broad shoulders and taut legs on show. She did not stand a chance.
“No?” He unwrapped the tartan from his torso, regaling her with the muscled chest sprinkled with fine dark hair, begging for her palms. “You would condemn us to a frustrating night.”
“You should have waited for the wedding tomorrow.” Who was she trying to convince, anyway?
His chuckle thrummed through her. “We are as good as married, with a wedding night and all.”
The memory of said wedding night brought her to a boiling state. “Not for the Clan McKendrick.” True, but ineffectual.
“Mere semantics.” The silvery light of the moon shone on his coal hair, lending bluish streaks to it. “There are more important… issues in need of your attention.” His long, strong fingers removed the lower part of his tartan to display the rest of his magnificence, gloriously ready for her.
No amount of self-control would have prevented a gape. Hunger gnawed in the most sensitive parts of her.
“Come here, Aileen.” The command added to her weakened senses.
How could she abhor dictatorial males and melt shamefully at the bidding of this one?
With her rational mind undeniably shut down, she obeyed disgracefully. Nearing the armchair, she halted in front of him, their eyes consuming each other.
His big hands found her thighs under the nightgown and rolled it up as his caress revealed the hips he coveted so much. Those hands pulled her and she fell straddling him.
Green eyes illuminated by the moon elevated to her. “If you force me to spend one more night in an icy bed, you will answer for it.” The moonlit beacons acquired a quality that reminded her of wolves in winter—ineluctably famished.
Unrepentant, his fists tore at the thin fabric that walled her from him. The gesture contributed to sow goose-bumps over her skin and to harden her nipples to his appreciation. Pure combustion. The bristle jaw did not waste time. It clasped one while his hand teased the other, her head falling back in delectation with a sigh. The movement caused the torn nightgown to slip from her shoulders to the middle of her back. It edged her glossy hair, hanging in the air from her bent head. Her hands merged in his marvellous hair, inhaling earthen scent and man.
His sinful mouth abandoned her mound to climb up her bosom to the juncture of her neck and her shoulder where her pulse claimed his suckling. Long fingers descended over her ribs, her navel, to the centre which denounced her need for him. A need
his fingers made a point to transform in torment, pushing her to the edge.
Muscled arms locked around her slim waist to pull her down, thus impaling her with his extreme erection. A moan greeted this. This was when his mouth captured hers, the assault on her senses complete and unmitigable. She had to grab his bare shoulders to stand the avalanche of pleasure.
He moved up, she moved down, his arms pressed her to him. His mouth inflamed her lips, her breasts, leaving no space for finesse. They groaned, they sought, they accelerated. They demanded. At last, she gave up and exploded, channel gripping him, her mouth clamping to avoid the open scream it threatened to utter. Out of his mind, he grabbed her buttocks desperate for release. Rugged face contorted, he poured in her as she registered the undulations of his release.
She fell on him, he fell on the armchair, both panting and sweating, replete.
Unable to move, they remained on it for a long time.
The chilly air obliged both to go to bed. Still joined, he lifted her and tucked the both under her coverlet. The desire they released so intense it drove the betrothed to slumber.
The pre-dawn encountered them entangled in a mess of bed linens, legs jumbled together. On his belly, he lay, head on the curve of her neck, one arm around her waist, the other over his tousled head. Glossy chestnut hair emanated the perfume he identified with her.
The amazement at how she had only to look at him and she held him in the palm of her hand endless. His self-restraint disappeared the moment she came near him. It was as if he was at her mercy, unable to rein in his desires. Or his feelings. The fact taunted him, but no chance he would stay away from her. He did not even know if he wanted to escape it, escape her. It would mean keeping a distance. He mustered no forces for that.
Tonight, he would be a married man anew. He would take this intriguing woman to the house she made him feel at home with her mere presence. The manor he had lived his entire life became the real place of his rest and retreat because of her presence there. To give it warmth, comfort. To give it a soul. To fill him with something completely nameless, bottomless. Fathomless.
A hand slid along his spine, awaking each sinew, to stroke each muscle. Soothing and arousing in one craved touch. It descended and ascended slow, appreciative, soft. Her other hand reached his hair to play with the scattered coal strands. She liked it, he could tell.
“I must go, Aileen.” A grumble none too happy.
Her lips turned to graze his forehead. “Mm-hm.” The murmur vibrated on him.
Her hands did not stop.
More than that. His started exploring her milky skin.
This was not going to end well.
Not at all. Soft fingers covered his buttock and his cock started claiming its morning fare.
