When a Scot Ties the Knot (Castles Ever After #3)(32)

This was her penalty for kindness. She had to learn that her sweet--tempered curiosity came with a cost. He would teach her to lay soft touches to his arm. To look straight into his soul with those searching dark eyes and have the temerity to care.

She’d asked for this.

He had undressed a fair number of women. But when he slipped loose the buttons of her chemise, he was trembling to see whatever lay beneath. He wasn’t choosy about breasts. Large ones, pert ones. Dark nipples or fair. Alabaster or freckled. So far as he was concerned, the most comely pair of breasts in the world was always the pair he was currently tasting.

But nothing had prepared him for this.

When he pushed the panels of linen to either side, he couldn’t believe the sight that awaited him. He’d been expecting an expanse of creamy, delicate skin.

Instead, he found a pale expanse of . . . more linen.

“I canna believe this. You’re wearing two shifts.”

She nodded. “I put the inner one on backward. Just as an extra layer of defense.”

That would explain why he couldn’t find another row of buttons.

“You didna trust me?”

“I didn’t trust myself,” she said. “It seems I was right not to. Look at me.”

Logan didn’t know whether to be offended by this strategy or impressed at her cleverness. She’d created her own virgin armor.

And he was tempted to play ravishing pirate. Seize the fabric in his hands and rend it down the middle, spilling her bosom free for his plundering.

But why go to that trouble when the linen in question was this fine, this supple and frail? He ran one hand upward, claiming the rounded swell of one breast.

She sucked in her breath. Her flesh quivered beneath his touch. He waited to see if she’d ask him to stop.

She didn’t.

“I told you it will be good between us,” he murmured.

“I seem to recall that promise. Was it verra good you said? Or verra verra good?”

He palmed her breast fully now, kneading and squeezing. With his thumb, he found her nipple and teased it to a tight, straining peak. Back. And forth.

“Verra . . . verra . . . verra good.”

His own blood pounded in his veins, all of it making a mad rush in one direction—-down. Beneath the bed linens, his cock began to throb and harden.

He moved his attention to her other breast, spreading his fingers wide to stretch the fabric to its sheerest. God, she was lovely. Perfect pink--tinged flesh capped with a small, reddish nipple that looked as though it would taste of berry wine.

Her breath caught. “Could you . . .”

Logan froze at once. When she said nothing further, he lifted his head and met her gaze.

Damn. Why had he given her the chance? Now, even if she hadn’t been planning it, she was going to ask him to stop. And then he would have to stop, because he wasn’t the sort of man who’d continue.

The business of war and killing stripped a man of his humanity. Over his decade in the army, he’d seen soldiers—-even ones that wore the same uniform—-commit the vilest of acts against women. Sometimes he’d been in a position to stop it; other times, not. But misusing women was the one line Logan had never crossed.

He didn’t view it as a point of pride. He didn’t deserve any medals for it. But it let him know he’d held on to a scrap of his soul.

He wouldn’t surrender that now. Not even for the chance to hold her tonight.

Don’t, lass. Don’t ask me to stop.

She said, “Could you at least kiss me when you do that?”

Relief and desire crashed through him.

“Aye. That I can do.”

He bent his head and drew that berry--wine nipple into his mouth, suckling her straight through that damned extra chemise.

Judging by her sharp gasp, that wasn’t the kiss she’d been expecting. But she didn’t complain.

Logan was in paradise. She was sweet. So sweet that his brain went light as air, and he couldn’t hold back a low moan.

He licked over her nipple, then moved in widening circles, painting the sheer linen to her breast. He paused to admire the transparent effect, then rolled atop her so that he could better start in on the other side.

What with the two shifts cocooning her body, he couldn’t settle between her legs. Instead he braced his knees on either side of her thighs.

And his cock wedged right where it wanted to be.

When their bodies met, she gave a startled gasp. And then he moved against her, and her gasp became a low, sweet sigh.

Yes.

“That’s it.” He rocked his hips against hers. “Do you feel it? It’s only the beginning, mo chridhe.”

She shut her eyes. Her dark lashes fluttered against her cheeks. “You truly must kiss me when you do that.”

Logan obliged her, this time pressing his lips to hers.

As he sank into the lush heat of her kiss, a wildness gathered and growled within him.

He wanted her. All of her. Under him. Surrounding him. Taking him into her softness and heat.

And he couldn’t get enough of her sweet taste. As if possessed, he pushed her arms against the mattress and kissed her neck, her brow, her lips, her lovely breasts.

Then he moved lower.

He rose up on his knees and began to kiss a trail down her linen--sheathed body. From the hollow between her breasts . . .