Page 65 of The Laird’s Lost Wife

He kissed her again, and her thoughts blurred into nothing. She was aware of his hand twisting in her skirt, tugging the wet hem of her nightgown up and up until it was rucked around her thighs and he could put his warm palm on her bare knee.

Oh, it felt good.

“I dream that ye are running away from me,” Hunter murmured, his stubble scratching her neck. “I’m always chasing ye, running as fast as I can, but I cannae quite catch ye. It was a relief earlier today to catch ye so easily.”

His fingertips traced up her thighs, and she bit back a moan. There was no telling how far a sound like that would travel from here beside the loch.

That thought felt like cold water being poured over her.

But the feeling didn’t last. Hunter’s forearm pressed against her thigh, just the tiniest nudge, and yet it was as loud as a command.

She let her legs open, just enough to let him trace patterns up her inner thigh. He kissed her again, one strong arm winding around her back to keep her upright. If it wasn’t for his strong body, she would have collapsed bonelessly onto the rough shale.

The tip of his finger slowly stroked her folds, where she was wet and hot and so, so sensitive. She shivered, her muscles tightening.

“I remember that ye liked that,” Hunter breathed, kissing her deeply enough to steal her breath.

He stroked her again, a slow, languid movement, entirely unhurried. Sharp spasms of pleasure rocked through her, and she found herself gyrating her hips, longing to press against him, hoping against hope that he’d move quicker, that he would⁠—

Oh.

He slipped one finger inside her, his thumb pressing against her bud, and the pleasure intensified, powerful enough to make her dig her fingers into his shoulders.

“There we are, lass,” he chuckled, rubbing his stubbled cheek against her neck once more.

“The dream,” she gasped. “Do ye ever catch me?”

“Oh, sometimes. Those are the good dreams. I catch ye, and then I bloody well wake up, do I nae?”

She let out a strangled laugh, and he began to stroke her faster, ripples of pleasure overlapping and intensifying.

“And… And the bad ones?” she stammered.

Her climax was so close she could feel the shocks already running through her limbs, tantalizingly blissful.

“Ye escape me,” he breathed, and she felt the blunt press of teeth against her neck. “I’ll nae let ye escape this time.”

Her climax came crashing down on her, powerful enough to make her cry out, closing her eyes and digging her fingers harder into his muscular shoulders. The noise echoed, bouncing across the loch and back toward them.

I daenae think I’d escape even if I could.

CHAPTER 15

Daphne’s blood thundered in her ears, so intensely that she couldn’t hear anything else. Not her own ragged breathing, not the lapping of the water at the shore, not his breathing, not the rustling of the trees.

They stayed like that for a minute, their arms wound around each other, and then Hunter pulled back.

Daphne felt off-kilter for a minute, like she was going to collapse backward, but managed to save herself, clutching at his shoulders. His strong arm around her back pulled her upright, and with his free hand, he tugged the hem of her skirt down over her knees.

The aftershocks of pleasure still rippled through her. Despite it all, she gulped and closed her eyes, trying to think straight.

“We shouldnae have done that,” she whispered.

“And why nae?” he breathed, tilting up her chin until she was forced to open her eyes and look at him. “I fucking missed ye, lass. I havenae thought of much else in the past five years.”

Heat knotted in her chest once again, making her gasp.

“But yer dreams… In the bad ones, where I escape, something happens to keep us apart. Daenae ye think that’s a sign?”