He leaned in closer and whispered against her mouth. "Tell me to stop if 'tis what you desire." Then he kissed her, soft and sweet, on the lips.
What shedesiredwas him. And though she couldn't tell him that, she was sure he felt it on her lips.
She couldn't tell him to stop while he kissed her. His need radiated outward, surrounding her. No one had needed her in a long time and this was something she'd yearned for.
She threaded his dark hair between her fingers, appreciating the thickness, as she drew him closer. Never had she been kissed in the sinful, decadent way he did it, his tongue flicking and stroking inside her mouth.
Her thoughts evaporated like mist in the beaming sunlight while he kissed her. Through her clothing, he stroked his hands along her body, over her back, the side of her hip and along her thigh. His big, strong hands caressed her with utmost gentleness.
Saints!Arousal lit up her body like a lightning storm. She slid her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, scarcely able to control herself. His hand on her derriere, he dragged her tight against him. Feeling his arousal, she moaned and darted her tongue inside his mouth.
He rasped a curse and rolled her beneath him.
Oh, aye.She loved the heaviness of his muscles upon her, pressing her into the pallet.
He knew how to seduce her to the core of her being with long, deeply passionate kisses. He rolled aside again and tugged her skirts upward, above her knees.
Nay, she should not allow this, but his warm fingers above her stocking, caressing the bare, sensitive skin of her thigh… she sighed. He pushed her petticoats up further and stroked his palm over her hip.
Oh, how she ached and burned for him. His hand was close… so very close… tempting her. She moaned, forcing herself not to beg him. His thumb stroked, feather light, over the spot where her hip joined her thigh and downward, trailing his thumb along the inside of her thigh and upward again, brushing against her curls. She gasped, then whimpered with the unbearable need. Her leg fell aside, opening to him. The tips of his fingers slipped between her thighs, over that sensitive spot that ached for him.
"Anna," he breathed in an awed tone, then emitted a sound halfway between a growl and a moan. "So wet."
'Haps she should be mortified at her own wantonness, but she wasn't. Nor could she help herself around him. He sparked off a flaming fuse of arousal in her and it grew hotter with each eager stroke of his fingers. His tongue flicked into her mouth even as he pressed a finger inside her. Sliding in a bewitching rhythm, driving deeper with each thrust. She cried out, widening her thighs further. Her hand fisted in his hair, dragging him closer. He fed her decadent kisses and she devoured each and every one, savoring his delicious male flavor. She wanted to kiss and lick every part of him and nibble with her teeth. He held her down, his body half lying on hers, but she did not wish to escape him. She yanked him closer.
His wicked fingers worked a magic such as she'd never known existed and, before she could comprehend it, a fireball of passion burst within her, propelling her toward the stars. His mouth covered hers, smothering her cries. She was only half aware, for the bliss which claimed her was beyond anything she could remember. Once the intensity of pleasure released her, she gasped for breath. He pressed his forehead against hers, breathing against her lips, his eyes dark blue in the dim glow.
He exhaled a Gaelic oath. "That was beautiful."
"Aye." The word escaped on her breath. 'Twas all she could utter. She was awed by him and the erotic spell which he'd cast upon her. She could not grasp how such physical sensations were possible. Having been married before, she had, of course, experienced lovemaking and desire, but nothing with this intensity.
His dark, concentrated expression, lowered lashes and clenched jaw, told her he was near to the peak of arousal himself. Why had he stopped? After turning to her side, she stroked a hand down his chest to his plaid.
He caught her hand, brought it up to his lips and kissed it. He shook his head. "Not yet, bonny lass."
Confusion muddled her mind. She wished to be scorched by his fiery passion. Was he not interested in pursuing this sensual bliss further? "Why?" she asked.
"You have not yet agreed to be my wife."
But she could never be his wife. Tears filled her eyes. Neacal was a treasure and she would do anything for him, but she couldn't change the law or her past. She couldn't change despicable brutes like Blackburn who sought to control and possess her. Perhaps even kill her. And because of that beast, she had to hurt Neacal.
She closed her eyes and the hot tears trickled across her skin. She pushed her skirts down and sat up. What a wanton she was. She should be ashamed of her lack of control.
"Help me understand," he said, sitting up and propping himself against the wall behind her. "You do not fear me. You seem to like the kisses. You allow me to touch you in the most intimate of ways, and yet…"
"Of course I don't fear you." She wiped her tears away and glanced around at him. "Your kisses are spellbinding and your touch is irresistible. But…" What else could she say to discourage him except the truth? He would hate her, especially now, after she'd allowed him such liberties. She'd not possessed the strength to refuse his touch.
"But what?" he asked.
"Marriage is not so simple for a chief, is it?" Turning away, she cringed at her own diversion ploy. But what choice did she have? After the intense pleasure she'd just experienced, she was lucky to remember her own name.
"I'll make it simple," he snapped.
She winced at his sharp tone. "I don't wish you to be angry with me."
"I'm not, and I won't be."
His tone said otherwise. 'Twas easy to see he was already angry, if not with her, then with the situation.
