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He said it as if everything scrambled out of place, in a gelid, clipped tone to that gorgeous voice of his.
“If you say so.” She replied and bent back to her work. His reply had not satisfied her, clearly.
“You ask me what is wrong, but you see nothing untoward in dangling to and from your family’s.” She lifted her eyes to witness powerful legs braced, flaming eyes and overstrung shoulders.
Anger grew on her. Up from her chair, she neared him, raised her stare to his with a diamond blink. “I explained why I must go.”
“Oh, yes.” Mock on his rugged features. “This time, almost a week. Next time, a fortnight. And then what?”
“Are you jealous of my family?” She asked, brows pleated, unable to believe such a thing.
“Jealous of the McKendricks?” He sketched a gesture which imprinted the far-fetched-ness of it. The old rivalry still in place. “You left against my will.”
Oh, there it was. The dictatorial troglodyte. “They had a good reason to ask me to go.” Her hands flew to her hips, followed by his attention. “I am not going to apologise for it.”
He prowled to her in long steps and took her shoulders. “Apologise?” He pulled her to him, unleashing a chain reaction of sensations in her. “I want you in my bed. Every night.” His skilled mouth neared hers, almost touching. “You hear me?” He growled hoarse, his ragged breath teasing the pink sensitive skin.
Her thirsty lips sucked in air as her tongue darted out to moisten them. Green eyes darkened on her. “As if I ever wanted away from it.” Weak, the sentence hung between them, her insides climbing to a boiling state in a matter of seconds.
His breathing accelerated, body wiring. “Hell, Aileen.” He rasped before his mouth ravened hers.
What took him so long? Arms twined around his thick neck, length glued to his steel muscles, she opened for his invasion, no barricades. In a blink the kiss soared beyond the crudest carnality.
And she was beyond any cool thought. For her feet snatched the lead and directed backwards to the escritoire.
As her back touched it, one of her hands bunched her skirts to cradle him. That a single kiss of his would set her in flames had to be worrisome. Right then, she did not give a fig.
The papers scattered on the carpet, forgotten.
“Let us go to bed, Aileen.” He invited on her mouth, not doing much for it.
“No.” She murmured hot. “I cannot wait.” Her spine lay on the solid piece of furniture, arching for him.
Strong hands bared her breasts, and he bent to sabotage them in a way which transformed her in a river of lava.
His erection met her centre like a granite sculpture, deepening her hunger. “See if I can wait.” He unwrapped the lower end of the tartan.
No, he could not.
“Taran.” She breathed. “Take me, now!”
“Woman!” But he was there at her entrance. “You are going to finish me before we start.”
And thrust deep through her drawers’ slit. His stubble face pulled back with a grunt at the intensity of the pleasure.
She moaned, throwing her head back at the supreme delight the torment caused. “Rough. I want it rough.” Urgent demand uttered as her arms and legs tangled him like a vice.
He needed not any more impelling. His raw movements showed no restraint while his bristle mouth grazed her neck, mounds and collar bone erratic, uncontrolled.
Wringing under him every which way, she starved for more not caring if she maddened him further.
The air filled with moans and rumbles and the sounds of their middles clashing briskly.
“How is a man supposed to survive?” He growled, panting. One hand embroiled in her hair, the other arm locked on her waist, also far gone.
But when he dived again, she broke in an unladylike scream while clenching around him repeatedly.
As their bodies clanged once more, Taran threw his head back with a wild rasp as he poured his lust to the last drop.
