‘Yes.’ He let out a frustrated breath and shelaughed. Another tug and she felt the laces give way to his intentions. To hers.
He’d have access to her now if they weren’t kneeling on the cold floor, if they weren’t faced the wrong way. She shifted so she could turn and strong hands came to her hips. ‘Stay.’
‘But—’
He squeezed her hips, adjusted himself closer until all of him was pressed against her back. ‘Stay,’ he rasped.
His hands pulled and tugged at the fabric of her gown, loosening and widening it. She felt the gaps along her torso and collarbone. Felt his expansive chest against her delicate spine, felt his need pressed hot and hard against her lower back.
Then his warrior’s hands, calloused, lethal, greedy, pulling her up and back against him by her hips to clench and shove himself forward.
He shuddered. She gasped with pleasure. Her back to his front, it shouldn’t feel like this, and yet she was sensitive, aware, needy. Reverently, he caressed along her waist, stroking upwards to gently cup her breasts. His fingers swiping across her nipples, his head bowing until it was side by side with hers.
Like this, she knew Rory could watch his hands rolling the sensitive flesh of her breastswhich became full and heavy. Could observe her response as he flicked and swiped her nipples until they were taut and achy. Like this, she could see his hands rake down in the valley between her breasts, down further until his urgent fingers slowly dragged the bottom of her gown up and over her knees. She could watch as his hand crept under the cream linen of her gown and touched the bared flesh of her legs. As he splayed his fingers against her inner thighs to give him purchase to roll his hips again, then again.
Heat flared and again. She wanted so much, she cried out.
‘I’m sorry.’
His stillness rather than his words, registered with her. ‘Why are you...?’
Another flexing of his fingers against her delicate aching skin, his hips shifting as if wanting to move more, fast, hard. The tension in her mounted. His forehead skimming her shoulder, his kisses and hot fast breath striking the side of her neck. ‘Ailsa, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I can’t seem to help rutting against you like some great beast.’
She wanted him like this. So different than he was their first time together. There he’d broughther pleasure and forsaken his own. There he’d remained in control and denied them both.
Never again. ‘Rory, I want this.’
A rough exhalation, a stroke of his fingers, a brush against the juncture just where her thigh curved. Her bowed head, her eyes half-open to watch, to see him touch her. But the generous swathes of linen from her gown hid everything. Frustrated, she clutched the folds and swept them back. Revealing everything.
He shook, he spoke her name on a ragged whisper. So much desire. She shifted, tried to turn. He splayed his hands wide, held her still. Why? ‘Let me turn. Let me...’
‘I need to touch, to ready you. Holding you like this, I can control what is between us.’
‘No more. I want this.’
A guttural growl, his body tense, a burst of his breath against the side of her ear, her cheek. She turned her head, beckoning for his kisses. He gave them.
One, then another, a litany of the same words in between. ‘I know, I know.’ An answer to her needs, his,theirs.
Where he could touch and kiss and watch, she could only clutch his forearms, her fingernails dragging down and gripping back up. Shewouldn’t soften her touch, couldn’t when she wanted so much more.
As if hearing her need, he gave more caresses, rapid feather-light strokes through her growing slickness. His breath hot against her collarbone, his lips continuing their trail of kisses behind her ear. ‘To feel you like this.’ He delved his fingers deeper and she couldn’t breathe at all. She was about to break apart, without him.
She clutched his wrist, hard, sharp, and he stopped. She knew nothing of a marriage bed. Nothing of how to bring as much pleasure to Rory as he brought to her. But everything in her knew he felt as equal a desire as she and she wouldn’t let this moment pass like she had last night. ‘No more.’
He eased his fingers from her core. They glistened with her need, the sight a jolt to her senses. Then he brought those fingers to his mouth. She slammed her eyes closed against the knowledge, against what flared inside her, against everything knowing he touched her, tasted her. Knowing that finally, finally there would be more. He had stopped and now there would be more.
Because she could move,wouldmove, but he stood first and took her hand to pull her up.
Her gown fell to her feet, her chemise held to her shoulders, but she felt the looseness of it andthe chill in the room. Without Rory’s great body surrounding her, she became aware of her surroundings. That it was the middle of the day, that there was no lock on the door. That this wasn’t a bedroom, but a storage room and the floor was covered in parchments.
‘We can’t... I don’t want to leave.’
A small smile. ‘We’re not.’
He spared the room a glance, strode to a wall nearest a torch and sat down with his back to the wall.
‘Come sit right here,’ he said, indicating his lap.
