Page 60 of Steel & Surrender

And Brìghde was still looking at him, her gaze limpid, lips parting. “Greig,” she whispered, and just hearing her say his name like that splintered something inside him.

Just one word held so much longing and vulnerability.

And so, despite that he knew he shouldn’t, he leaned in once more, his lips brushing hers once … twice.

And on the third time, his hand slid from her cheek to cup the back of her neck.

A heartbeat later, his tongue swept her lips apart, and he kissed her deeply.

17: STRONGER THAN REASON

BRÌGHDE COULDN’T BELIEVE it.

Greig Maclean was kissing her.

Never had she thought this might happen.

And it wasn’t a brush of the lips, something tender rather than carnal, but a proper kiss. Greig’s tongue was in her mouth, exploring her.

He tasted so good.

Closing her eyes, she gave herself up to the feel of his hand cradling the back of her neck, to the gentle, sensual pressure of his mouth against hers. Tentatively, shyly, she began to kiss him back, her tongue circling his.

And the deep groan that rumbled through his chest thrilled her.

Aye, he was kissing her, and he was enjoying it; lost in the moment as much as she was.

They remained like that for a while, each teasing and exploring. They learned each other’s mouths slowly. Tongue against tongue, lip against lip, tasting each other as if they were a fine meal that had to be savored.

Brìghde’s pulse trembled as she inhaled the scent of him—leather, fresh sweat, and something vaguely spicy, like clove.

The wind buffeted them, but Brìghde ignored it. She didn’t want anything to intrude on this. She didn’t want to break the spell.

And neither, it seemed, did Greig, for he continued to kiss her, his hand sliding from her neck, his fingers caressing the line of her jaw. And then his fingertips brushed her throat, sliding down the column of her neck to the bodice of her kirtle.

She wore her usual attire—a plain grey woolen kirtle over a coarse linen lèine. She’d tucked her skirts into her belt for the climb, revealing heavy woolen hose and sturdy boots.

It wasn’t clothing for seduction. She wasn’t clad in rich damask or silks.

But he didn’t seem to care.

Indeed, she felt his breath quicken against her lips as his fingers started to unlace the front of her kirtle. He hesitated—just for a heartbeat, as if doubt had crept in—before continuing.

He then gently nipped her full lower lip.

Brìghde shuddered with delight.

How could just one kiss make her feel so much?

He tasted faintly of apple wine and virile, delicious male.

She didn’t want him to ever stop. But at that moment, he did, tracing his lips down her jaw and neck to where her kirtle now gaped open at the front.

Then, reaching out with both hands, he pushed the lèine underneath down over her arms.

Cold air feathered against her bare breasts.

Brìghde’s pulse went wild. He’d just stripped her top half naked.