Page 55 of The Highlander’s Dangerous Desire

Ewan snorted, bitterness overcoming any hint of amusement. “Ye were the one who said I was just the largest item on yer ‘list o’ sins’.”

Grace stared at him. “I spoke in jest. In good humor, as I often speak to Niamh!”

Ewan stared back. “Ye cannae mean… ye acted like ye were ashamed o’ bein’ with me, the way ye pulled away.”

“I pulled away, as you say, because you acted as if you hated the fact that you’d been with an Englishwoman. I thought you had decided you regretted indulging my desire.”

Grace’s eyes were blazing bright as the fire, her hair sparkling all shades of red and gold in the glow of the flames. Ewan’s jaw clenched. “I thought ye were the one who regretted our… evening taegether.”

Grace stepped forward into his space, gazing up at him with those diamond-bright, angry eyes. “I have never regretted anything that was on my ‘list of sins’.”

Ewan felt his anger fading, his mood softening as he considered her words. “Nay? Naething?”

“Nothing.”

“Then yer distance…”

“Was because I thought you had no more desire to interact with me. At least, not in that manner.” Then anger in Grace’s eyes faltered, her voice slipping from irritation to uncertainty as her gaze held his. Underneath the uncertainty, Ewan thought he saw something more. Hope, perhaps, or desire.

Scarcely daring to believe what his eyes and his thoughts were telling him, Ewan lifted one hand, carefully, gently, and cupped her cheek. “I’m nae the sort o’ man who regrets such encounters. An’ certainly nae with a beautiful woman such as yerself.”

Grace made a soft, hopeful sound and leaned into his hand. Her hands came up to clutch at his shirt.

Hesitant, still uncertain, Ewan bent to kiss her. Her mouth was just as soft as it had been before, tasting of wine and stew. Her mouth opened eagerly to his, her tongue darting out to dance together with his as the kiss deepened.

His hand slid to her shoulder, then the bodice of her dress. His touch stilled. “Tell me what ye want.”

“You.” The word was breathless, whispered against his lips as Grace tugged the laces loose of his shirt, then dropped her hands to the belt of his kilt.

Ewan kissed her again, more deeply, feeling the heat building in his blood to rival the fire inside the hearth. His manhood began to stiffen against the fabric of his kilt.

Grace stepped back, toward her bedroom, loosening the bodice of her dress as she went. Ewan followed, watching her movements and her eyes for any sign of hesitation or uncertainty. There was none. None as she slipped into the bedroom ahead of him, as the two of them stripped off their clothing. Naked, Ewan stepped closer and kissed her again, long and slow and sweet, his thigh pressing gently against her sex and feeling the dampness of her arousal.

He swept her into his arms, and into the bed. “Lie back fer me.”

He drew his hands down her arms, then back up, caressing, mapping the lines of her body as Grace shifted against him and kissed him with deeper urgency. His knee slid between her legs, his manhood stiff and hot against her thigh as he slid his hand down to fondle and tease her breast into a taut peak.

Grace shuddered, her legs parting wider for him. Ewan slid his hand lower, tracing a slow line down her core. His thumb teased her navel. His fingers danced across her ribs, eliciting gasps and shivers with every touch, as he retraced the sensitive spots that he’d found before.

His blood was burning, his shaft stiff and aching with the need to bury himself in her warmth, but Ewan controlled himself, let himself revel in the pleasure of touching her. He could feel her desire, her need for him, and it went to his head like Alistair’s best whisky, a burn of heat and pleasure like being drunk, but in the best ways.

He slid his hand lower, into the soft hairs that covered the mound of her sex. They were damp, her arousal already coating them and moistening his fingers as he caressed her, touched her until she was moaning under his hand. Then he stilled his hand, palm still covering her, and lowered his mouth to suckle on her breast.

Grace gasped, arching into his mouth as he scraped her nipple lightly with his teeth, then stroked it with his tongue until it was a hard peak that he could tug gently. Her hips pressed into his hand, the soft hair slick with her desire. His own felt tight and hot against her, driving him mad as he slid his hand lower, across the seam of her sex.

Grace shuddered, trembling under his touch, her thighs parting to give him greater access as he caressed her entrance. He stroked her, feeling her quiver and squirm beneath his touch, then added a little more pressure, stroking firmly down to the seam of her buttocks before he slid his hand slowly back up, his finger teasing the lips of her sex, opening him to her touch just the smallest bit.

“Ewan… please…”

“Tell me what ye need.”

“I need you to touch me… deeper… please…” Grace stared at him, breathless and shivering with desire. Ewan bent and kissed her again, then slid his finger between the lips of her sex to stroke the inner walls. Grace gasped and arched into his touch drawing him deeper. Ewan caressed the lips of her sex until they were slick and dripping with moisture, then pressed a finger slowly, deeply, into her channel.

Grace whimpered, clinging to him, rocking into his hand as he pumped his finger into her, then added a second finger, stretching her around his hand. His thumb found her pleasure center and pressed against it, stroking her in time to the movements of his fingers.

Grace gasped crying out as she pressed herself against him. Desire soaked his fingers, sparking heat within his own core, pulsing down the length of his shaft until he feared he would climax right then.

Ewan pulled his hand away, panting with his own need, his own desire. No other woman had ever made him feel like this - this raw, pounding heat that made thinking, made seduction impossible.