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He rolled her onto her back. With one arm cradled beneath her neck, he softly brushed his lips over hers. “In fact, I’d like to kiss you from top to bottom, ending with your wee toes.”
She crinkled her forehead. “Why would you want to kiss my toes?”
“I’ve seen them, remember? They’re quite delightful.” Donella couldn’t help but laugh as she slid her hands to his shoulders. “That sounds exceedingly interesting, but won’t my nightrail get in the way?”
His gaze all but scorched her. “Perhaps you’re ready to remove it now?”
She began to think she’d been getting ready for Logan for a long time. Ready to be with a man who wanted her as much as she wanted him. “I believe so.”
His eyes glittered like gems. Then he took her lips in a soul-searing kiss she would never forget.
As his mouth caressed her, searching and passionate, his hands began to wander. He shifted to his side, still cradling her but free to explore while melting her with his devastating kisses. She closed her eyes and retreated into the warm, velvet darkness. All that existed was his touch and the feelings it evoked.
His hand skimmed lower, lingering to stroke and tease her nipples into tight points. When Donella moaned, he sucked her tongue into his mouth, drawing deep. Sensation stormed through her, and that most intimate part of her ached for the claiming that would make her forever and only his.
His skillful hands moved lower, stroking over her belly to briefly rest between her legs. When he rubbed her through the linen fabric covering that hidden place, her thoughts scattered like fog in a howling wind. His hands, his touch, his strong body arching over hers—it was all she needed in the moment—and then another moment, and then another, stretching into a lifetime of wonderful moments with him.
“Open your eyes, darling.” His voice was a husky rumble.
It was too lovely in the dark, with just his hands and her body. “Don’t want to.”
He licked her lower lip before giving it a wee nip.
Donella’s eyelids snapped open. “Ouch.”
“That did not hurt.”
“Maybe a little,” she grumbled.
“Not even a little.”
He was right. In fact, it had been rather . . . stimulating.
“My eyes are open,” she said. “Now what?”
“Are you truly ready to take off your clothing?” His smile was lopsided and teasing. “You certainly feel ready.”
Her throat went tight. He was always so careful to put her first, even as she felt the rampant press of his desire nudging against her leg. His own need had turned every muscle in his body as hard as stone, and yet he still waited patiently on her.
With Logan, Donella never felt stupid or lacking. She felt cherished, as if her every need was as important to him as it was to her.
She smiled up at him, love making her brave. “I’m ready for everything.”
He blew out a sharp breath. “Thank God, because you are absolutely killing me, lass.”
As he helped her wriggle her nightrail upward, he followed its path with a trail of leisurely kisses.
“What are you doing?” she asked when he lingered over her hipbone.
“I’m kissing your freckles,” he murmured.
She choked out a laugh. “That’s ridiculous.”
“I love your freckles. It’s like a celestial baker sprinkled you with cinnamon.”
“Since I have a lot of them, this could take all night.”
He glanced up with a grin that was all male and all him. “And is that a bad thing?”
