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Flexing his knees, he laced his strong arms around her slim waist and lifted her to him.
Her lungs stopped working entirely as she rested her hands on his bunched shoulders and dared raise her stare to him. Heads levelled, their eyes merged with an intensity that shook every fibre of her.
“I’m not,” she countered, trying not to feel his solid chest pressing against hers. Her traitorous breasts plucking in eagerness, everything coalescing at the centre of her, weakening any resolve she might have had.
Their irregular breaths mingled audible in the stillness of the pantry.
“I said we cannot do this,” he rasped, bringing his nose to the tip of hers.
“I said we wouldn’t,” she muttered in a wisp of voice.
Neither moved for several ragged heartbeats. But then his nose circled hers, and hers circled his, trying to prevent the inevitable.
“And we won’t,” he reiterated hoarse, circling once more.
“It’s foolish,” she agreed, doing the same.
His arms tightened, making her feel each taut muscle of his solid chest, his unyielding abdomen, and even his thighs.
Her lashes weighed down, and she stopped fighting a lost battle. Nearing her mouth to his, she sucked his lower lip, savouring it like the rarest delicacy. He let her play with his mouth to her heart’s content. She took all his lip between her teeth and licked it.
“Bluidy hell, lass!” he growled before taking control, taking her mouth, taking her to madness.
Her fingers dived in his luxuriant hair, clasping him as they devoured each other with even less finesse than the first time. Moans and groans echoed unbridled in the air. He turned his head to one side to have more access to her. And deepened the kiss to the point they devoured one another with the hunger of decades, tongues searched, tangled, re-tangled. And it was not enough.
Suddenly, her backside touched the table as he sat her on it. Her body slid down his, but she did not let go of the kiss, if anything, she clung more tightly to it.
As if the craving was not enough, his large palm covered her breast. The lightning that coursed through her multiplied her eagerness and, with it came a demanding moan. And with the latter, his hand glided between the wool, and her underdress. He made it so worse and so not enough she writhed against him. In response, he wedged between her knees, connecting every inch of their bodies.
The hunger increased. The ridge of him increased. And cradled where the need of it ached.
He lifted his head to interrupt the kiss and extracted a whimper from her. But he gave her no reprieve. As they sucked in air, his thumb moved under her tartan. Lazily, it only touched the top of the puckered tip of her breast, almost not there. Sensation washed over her as she pressed her chest to his hand even if his thumb got no firmer.
His candent eyes watched her with undivided attention. Her fingers bunched his shirt sleeves, pulling him closer and she arched her torso for more.
The horrible man thwarted her by encasing his mouth to her neck to find her pulse galloping. His stubbled caress corroded her tenfold. Deft fingers reached the front buttons of the underdress to undo them down to her first rib. When his hand snuck inside, she nearly yelled in exhilaration.
But his thumb merely lazed on the eager nipple. Damn him! He did not stop, went no further either. Kept her waiting on the verge of agony.
Then his index joined the thumb to roll the unfortunate nipple between them in sheer torture.
“McKendrick.” It was impossible not to beg. “Do something!” Somewhere along the way, her riotous chestnut mane came loose to frame her flushed face.
His mouth trailed down her throat, his other arm keeping her close. “If I do something, we’ll have to marry.” And rolled her nipple some more.
“Oh, disaster,” she sighed.
That banquet of a mouth reached between her breasts. “Yes, Darroch, together we’re disastrous,” he rumbled, and latched his lips on her dusky nipple.
The word gained a whole new meaning as she watched his mouth close on the starved nipple; his suckling of her breast caused her to see stars. Her legs shackled him, her arms clasped him. In a thrice, he had tumbled her on the table, her hair everywhere. At the same time, he filled his mouth with her breast, only to tease the other nipple with his hand. The earthquake of sensation that raided her produced a loud moan.
Disaster did not cover the half of it.
“Lachlan.”
Instinctively, she moved her hips on his hardness, seeking him, seeking release. The emptiness in her core insisted, gnawed, demanded. He helped her by pressing his hips on hers and allowing her to take what she craved.
She was so on the edge she had to move just twice more before the abysm claimed her, the orgasm so blindingly consuming she held him for dear life. Savage sounds escaped her shamelessly.
