Page 44 of Wicked Kilted Highlander

"Look at me, Darragh," Lara urged gently, placing a hand on his arm. "Breathe with me. Focus on my voice."

He complied, and they breathed in unison, their lungs filling and emptying in the same rhythm.

Lara took his hand in hers, squeezing gently. "Ye're all right, Darragh. Ye're here, with me. There's nae danger."

He closed his eyes, taking another deep breath. "Aye," he said, his voice still unsteady. "Ye're right. I'm here, with ye… Sometimes, I feel like I'm naught but a broken man," Darragh admitted, his black eyes clouded with pain. "I dinnae feel capable of protecting those I care fer."

"Yer experiences have made ye stronger, Darragh," Lara insisted, her tone gentle yet resolute. "And I believe in ye. Ye have a good heart, and ye're are a strong and capable person."

"Thank ye, Lara," he whispered, gratitude shining in his eyes. "Yer support means more tae me than I can say."

"Ye will nae have tae face this battle alone," she promised, taking his large, hand in hers. "Together, we’ll overcome whatever challenges lie ahead."

Lara gazed into Darragh's black eyes, wanting to offer him more comfort. She leaned forward, her heart pounding, and pressed her mouth to his.

The warmth of his lips seared her skin. She slid her hands up his chest and twined them around his neck, pulling him closer. His scent enveloped her—soap and the musky scent of man.

He groaned and deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers. Heat unfurled low in her belly, spiraling out until her whole body was alive and trembling.

Darragh pulled away, panting. His eyes were dark, his lips wet from their kiss.

Lara blinked, confused and bereft without his mouth on hers. "Why… why did ye stop?"

He ran a hand through his hair and looked away. "I cannae break my vow." His voice was rough with restraint. "Nae until ye tell me ye're ready."

Ready? I was ready from the moment I first saw ye!

Lara reached up and cupped his cheek, turning his face back to hers. "I am ready, Darragh. Make me yours. Please…"

His eyes widened, and for a moment, she thought he might refuse her. Then a slow, wicked smile curved his lips. "As me lady commands."

Lara laughed, giddy with joy and desire, twining herself around him. At last, she would be his. At last, she would know the sweetness of his touch, the heat of his body against and within hers. Her blood sang with longing.

Tonight there would be no more waiting. Tonight, she would finally be joined with the man she knew with every fiber of her being that she loved.

Darragh levered himself up on an elbow, his eyes dark with passion as he gazed down at her.

"Are ye certain this is what ye want, lass?" His voice was rough with desire, but she could hear the thread of worry in it. He feared hurting her, as he always did.

Lara reached up to caress his cheek, delighting in the feel of his stubbly beard against her palm. "I have never been more certain of anything," she whispered.

A shudder passed through him, and his control seemed to snap. His mouth descended upon hers in a fierce, claiming kiss as his hands roamed her body, stripping away her clothes with impatient tugs until she lay bare beneath him.

Lara moaned into his mouth, arching up against him, craving the feel of his skin on hers. She reveled in sliding her hands over the hard planes of his chest and shoulders, tracing old scars and feeling the flexing muscles beneath.

Darragh broke the kiss to stare down at her, his eyes dark and hungry. "So beautiful," he rasped, his hands shaping themselves around her waist, the warmth of his palms searing her skin. "And all mine."

"Aye, yers," she breathed, reaching for him again.

With a low growl, Darragh covered her body with his, and Lara cried out at the feel of him, hard and hot, against her thigh.

He swallowed hard, his throat tightening. "Lass, ye ken I want this as much as ye dae."

Lara traced the line of his jaw, her touch feather light. "I’m ready, Darragh. I’ve never been more ready fer anything in me life." Her hand drifted lower, fingertips dancing over his chest. "Please. I need ye."

Darragh bit back a groan, and she was amazed at her own power when she felt his body hardening further at her words, at the feel of her hand on his bare skin. He shuddered again, as if the last of his control was slipping through his fingers like sand. She relished being able to make him act this way, to reveal the passion of the man beneath the scars, and she wanted him more than ever.

"God forgive me," he rasped, fisting a hand in her hair to bring her mouth back to his. The kiss was hungry, devouring, filled with all the love and longing and barely restrained passion that had been building between them for days.