“You have been hard at work here,” she said. “The space appears—”
“Ye shouldn’t be venturing so far afield.” He frowned. “Your wee ankle won’t heal if ye abuse it so.”
“I had to see the progress myself. Surely, you know that no twinge in my foot would stop me.” She pivoted away as she spoke, needing to avoid his gaze. To prevent him from seeing the anguish in her eyes.
But she turned too quickly, and her ankle faltered. She teetered to the left, but his strong hand around her waist quickly righted her, pulling her spine against his hard chest.
“A minor twinge,” he groused in her ear from behind. “Ye be barely mobile, Chris.”
Chrissi closed her eyes, trying to swallow past the delectable feeling of him wrapped around her. The press of his pectorals to her shoulder blades. The heat of his palm branding her stomach.
I will not survive this, a dry part of her mused.
Helpless to resist, she sagged into his strength. His grip tightened around her, feeling her capitulation.
“I . . . uhm . . .” she began, voice far too breathless for her liking. “I was contemplating the purpose of this chambered cairn.”
“Were ye now, lass?” This time, his breath brushed over the sensitive shell of her ear, sending a shower of reciprocal goosebumps flaring down the backs of her arms.
“Y-yes,” she replied on a warble. “Other similar monuments have burials in them.”
“Mmmm.” Soft lips pressed to the hollow just below her ear, before trailing down her neck. His beard provided a delicious counterpoint to the slide of his mouth.
She gasped.
Her eyes fluttered shut and her knees loosened, sinking further into him.
Only his firm grip around her waist kept her upright.
“Tell me more,” he rasped.
More?
What had she been saying?
“Uhm . . . I . . . I imagine the cairn aligns with s-sunrise during the winter solstice and—”
She broke off as he spun her effortlessly in his arms, crushing her body to his.
Helpless, her arms looped around his neck, fingers threading into his hair as if they instinctively understood where they belonged.
It was simply . . . too much. Too overwhelming.
Her mouth found his. Or perhaps he reached first?
Regardless, Chrissi nearly moaned at the contact. At the feel of his fevered lips on hers once more.
She rose upward, heedless of the ache in her ankle, eager for more, more, more—
Over the past weeks, Chrissi had wondered from time to time what kissing him again would be like.
Would it feel like kissing a stranger? Or perhaps like donning a cast-off gown, one that didn’t quite fit any longer—familiar and yet not?
But no.
Kissing Alis sent fireworks bursting behind her eyelids.
He felt like silk and electricity and happiness.
