Page 83 of The Laird’s Sinful Secret

The challenge hung between them, her trust and desire and nervous determination balanced against his honor and duty and centuries of clan history.

The moment stretched.

Then he growled, his mouth reclaiming hers. His hand resumed its torturous exploration of her breast, thumb flicking the tight peak, sending pleasure crashing through her. His arousal pressed between her thighs, thick and hard, the friction almost unbearable. She shifted her hips, uncertain but seeking more, and the sensation sparked bright.

“Euan—”

He pulled her dress higher, his mouth moving down her neck, and then his fingers found the bare skin of her leg. He traced patterns up her thigh, higher, higher, until⁠—

She gasped as his fingers slipped inside her, the invasion unexpected and shocking. Her entire body tensed, shock and pleasure and a dozen other emotions crashing through her.

“Easy, lass,” he murmured against her skin. “Let me take care of ye.”

“I dinnae—I’ve never—” Her breath hitched.

“Aye,” he murmured against her skin. “I ken. Trust me.” His fingers began a torturous rhythm, slow and deliberate, gentle and coaxing. “

She didn’t understand his meaning. She didn’t care. Because his mouth was on her neck, and his fingers were driving her to the edge of madness, and she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but feel.

“So sweet,” he murmured. “Saints, Moyra, ye taste so sweet.”

She was going to fall apart. Right there, against the bookshelf, the entire library at her back and Euan MacLeod’s mouth on her skin. His fingers inside her, his body pinning hers, his⁠—

“Oh!” Her back arched as something snapped. Bright sparks danced across her vision. She grabbed his shoulders, holding on for dear life, her whole body shaking with the force of her release.

He pulled her close, cradling her while she rode out the waves. “Aye, that’s it, lass. Just like that.”

When the last shudder passed, she sagged against him, her head spinning.

“Are ye sure ye want tae go all the way?” He asked looking deep into her eyes.

She nodded, exchanging the depth of his gaze.

“I will be as tender as I can, but it may hurt fer a few instants…”

She nodded again.

Euan lifted his kilt, and then he was there, pressing into her. She was wet, so wet, and ready.

The feel of him sliding inside was unlike anything she’d imagined. She’d heard stories, of course. Knew how men and women fit together. But she hadn’t realized how it would feel.

Not just his body inside hers, but the connection. The joining.

“Look at me, Moyra.”

His voice was hoarse, the effort of holding back evident in every line of his scarred face. But it was his eyes that captivated her—dark with hunger and passion.

He withdrew, and then thrust again, and she gasped as it felt uncomfortable for just a moment, until he hit some part of her that felt good.

“Again,” she begged.

And so he did, his pace slow, steady, controlled. Each movement sent shivers across her skin. She felt full, completed in a way she’d never imagined. Powerful, as if she were the one who held the reins.

“Deeper,” she ordered. “I want all of ye.”

He growled, the sound vibrating against her skin. He shifted, his next thrust driving her higher, and this time the sensation was too much. Too fast.

She came apart again, the world spinning around her, Euan’s body her only anchor. He drove into her, again, and again, each movement sending pleasure roaring through her until⁠—