Heat pulsed through her as he pressed intimately against her. “Patrik, ’tis indecent!”
“Aye,” he said, laughter in his eyes. “Because we are both dressed. A fact I will be taking care of posthaste.”
“What if I do not wish you to?” she asked, the sheer wantonness of his intent seducing her further.
His expression grew serious. “Then I would be leaving you untouched.”
“And I would ache terribly from the wanting of it,” she confessed.
“Ah, lass.” On a groan, he stroked his thumb over the curve of her face, then drew her against him for a soft kiss, a slow, easy melt, a soul-tearing kiss that had her wishing for the impossible, one that left her aching for this one last joining, for memories to take, to cherish in the barren years ahead.
“Make love to me, Patrik,” she murmured against his mouth. “I need you desperately.”
Dark eyes searched hers, raw with desire. “Do you now?” he teased, the hardness of his body evidence he played no game.
“Yes.”
Challenge sparked in his eyes. “What would you be wanting me to do?”
He was giving her control. She shuddered at the gift. “Touch me.”
“Where?”
Memories of where his hands and mouth had made love to her filled her mind, the easy kisses, the frantic need. “Everywhere.”
He groaned, but she caught the edge of a smile on his mouth. “Sounds like this might take the entire night.”
A smile touched her mouth. “It very well could.”
Chapter 9
A soft mouth skimmed across her skin, tasting, nibbling, lingering until her body ached with need. “Patrik,” she breathed, her eyes fluttering open.
“Mornin’, lass.”
His deep burr curled around her in a sultry cloak. Emma sank into the warmth, then froze. Morning? It couldn’t be! She tried to sit, impossible with Patrik’s muscled body atop her.
“Do nae move,” he murmured as his mouth skimmed along the column of her throat, lower, along the sensitive swells of her breasts. “You are interrupting a warrior laying siege.”
“Patrik—”
He covered her nipple with his mouth.
Sensations exploded within, her words lost in a soft moan. He used his hands and tongue, stroking her, sliding wave after wave of delicious heat over her already sensitized skin. She gasped, arched against his erotic play, fighting for coherent thought.
He didn’t understand. She’d planned on taking the writ and leaving last night. Except, with the darkness blanketing them, he’d touched her, tasted her, had savored her more than she would have ever believed possible. Sated, exhausted, and content within the safety of his arms, she’d fallen asleep.
Even now, her body hummed with the heated memories. “After last night,” Emma said half in a moan as he angled himself more intimately against her, “you should be dead.”
“A warrior I am.”
Soft laughter tumbled from her mouth. The hard press of him assured her he was more than prepared for his erotic intent. “I am not a battle.”
“Aye, but you are. As worthy to claim as any stronghold to be seized.”
“You are comparing me to a castle? I am not sure if I should be honored or insulted.”
“’Tis my belief that you are thinking over much, an error I will be fixing.” He covered her mouth a split second before he sank deep within her, again sweeping her into heady bliss.
