Page 87 of Forbidden Kilted Highlander

Tav took a step closer.

"I dream about ye," he said. "Even when I’m awake."

Her throat tightened. Her entire body ached with the effort of restraint. There was nothing in the world but him and her and the firelight flickering between them.

"I wish I didnae feel this way," she whispered. "I wish I could forget what it feels like tae want ye."

He reached for her then, slowly, like giving her the chance to step away. She didn’t. His hand brushed hers. And she didn’t move away.

"Then dinnae forget," he murmured.

She met his gaze, something raw and dangerous twisting in her belly. There were tears behind her eyes, born out of hunger and desperation. She wanted to run. She wanted to stay. She wanted to destroy everything and start again with only him.

Agnes didn’t remember moving. Only the rush. The heat. The sound of her own breath in her ears as she leaned in and kissed him. There was no hesitation this time. Her mouth found his and the world narrowed to the taste of his warm, urgent, familiar lips, in a way that made her dizzy. He caught her waist, breath stuttering, and pulled her closer like he’d been waiting for it as long as she had.

His hands spanned her waist, then slid up, reverent and unsure at once. He broke the kiss just long enough to whisper, "Are ye sure?"

Agnes nodded.

“Aye,” she breathed, already leaning back into him. “I need—I need ye. Now.”

His exhale was almost a groan. Like he didn’t believe it.

She kissed him again, harder this time, her hands fisting in the front of his shirt. The fire roared behind them but she was the one burning. He pressed her gently backward until her hips met the edge of the bed.

Still, he paused. His forehead leaned into hers. “Tell me if ye want me tae stop.”

She shook her head. “Please dinnae stop.”

Then she kissed him again and fell back onto the bed, pulling him with her. His weight settled over her slowly, carefully, and she arched into him without thinking. Her body was already making choices her mind couldn’t catch up to.

They kissed until her lips felt swollen, until her legs parted of their own accord and his hips settled between them.

When he reached for the laces at the back of her gown, his hands shook. She felt it.

“Let me,” she whispered, and sat up just long enough to wriggle out of it, breathless, clumsy, laughing softly when the sleeve caught on her wrist.

Tav kissed her shoulder, her collarbone, the curve where her neck met her chest, as she undressed. Each kiss left her gasping, eyes fluttering closed. She was half-naked by the time he laid her back down, and fully burning. Her chemise was thin and damp with sweat, sticking to her skin. He looked at her like she was something sacred.

“Ye’re beautiful,” he murmured.

Her fingers found the hem of his shirt. “Take it off.”

He slid it over her in one swift motion, making her breath catch. Then he removed his tunic, exposing his broad chest. She ran her hands over it like she could memorize it.

“I’ve never…” she began, then stopped.

He stilled.

“I ken,” he said gently. “I’ll go slow.”

She nodded. Then reached for him.

The last of her clothes were gone in moments, and she was bare under him, flushed and open and shaking. He kissed every inch of her skin he could reach, moving slow even when the tremble in his limbs said he didn’t want to.

Her legs fell open for him naturally, instinctively. When he slid his fingers between her thighs and felt how wet she was, he let out a sigh.

“Gods,” he whispered. “Agnes.”