When a Scot Ties the Knot (Castles Ever After #3)(72)

He cupped her bared breast in one hand, lifting and kneading. She sifted her fingers through his soft, heavy hair as they kissed. He moaned against her mouth, and she tasted the lingering fire of whisky and his own unique, elusive sweetness. He kept that sweetness hidden from the world, but she knew how to draw it out.

She savored it.

Impatient, she began to tug at the fabric of his shirt, pulling it loose from the belted waist of his kilt and gathering it in rough handfuls. When she’d managed to work the hem high enough, he broke their kiss long enough for her to yank the garment over his head and toss it aside.

And when they kissed again, his bared chest met hers for the first time.

The sensation was bone--melting in its intensity.

All that skin on skin. Heat on heat. His solid muscles shaped her softness. The light hairs on his chest teased her nipples.

His heart pounded against hers.

“Lift your skirts,” he muttered, sliding his tongue down her neck.

Merciful heavens.

Given her choice of any three words to hear from Logan’s lips, Maddie probably would have chosen I love you. But she had to admit, Lift your skirts had an undeniable appeal.

Her softest, most secret parts quivered.

She obeyed, gathering the silk in rough handfuls and hiking it until the hem reached her knees.

His hands slid to her backside, and he lifted her off the ground and against the door, wedging his hips between her thighs and locking her stockinged legs around his waist.

She gave a little shriek of laughter.

Then his mouth found her nipple, and her laughter became a languid sigh.

The rough surface of the door scraped against her bare back, but she couldn’t be bothered to care. His lips and tongue were working magic on her breasts, and the hard ridge of his arousal was just where she wanted it. He rolled his hips, and a pure, bright joy swept through her. She let her head fall to the side and clung to him, riding the waves of bliss.

After he’d treated each of her breasts to a through pleasuring, he gathered her to him and turned her away from the door, carrying her toward the bed.

“Be careful,” she whispered, still gasping and giggling. “It’s so dark. It would be a shame if you—-”

Thunk.

He bashed his head against the overhanging part of the bedframe.

He cursed. Together they tumbled to the mattress. Maddie scrambled to assess his wounds.

She pushed the hair back from his brow, skimming her fingertips over his temple and crown. “Are you all right? Are you bleeding? Do we need to stop?”

He didn’t answer right away.

She caressed his scalp again. “Logan?”

“I’m fine, mo chridhe. I’d have bashed my head like that days ago if I knew you’d touch me like this.” He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing first the backs of her fingers.

Then her palm.

Then that sensitive bracelet of flesh at her wrist.

And from that moment on, everything between them was a little less frantic and a great deal more tender. As he moved above her, rolling the stockings down her legs and helping her free of her gown, she felt treasured. Precious.

Loved.

Once she was bared, he laid her flat on the bed and began to caress her everywhere. His palms swept over her breasts, her legs, her hips, her belly.

Her own fingers itched for their turn.

She wanted to touch him.

In all their previous encounters, Logan had been very much in control. He’d decided when and where to touch her. Or even when and where she should touch herself. This time, Maddie was determined to be an equal participant. Even if she felt timid or unsure, she wouldn’t allow herself to be deterred. Not if she knew what she wanted, and she did.

She went straight for the kilt.

He helped her with the fastenings in front, and then the heavy pleats of plaid fell slack. Pushing the fabric aside, she reached eagerly for the man beneath.

And she didn’t have to search long to find him.

His erection all but sprang into her hand, filling her grip with hard, heated flesh. She stroked up and down his length the way she’d watched him stroke himself that night, and he groaned with helpless pleasure. His skin was softer than she’d imagined it could be. Like ridged velvet. She circled her thumb around the broad, smooth crown, then stretched her fingertips to explore the thick root of his cock and the vulnerable sac beneath.

She was just beginning to enjoy herself, when Logan pulled her hand away.

“That’ll have to be enough for now, mo chridhe. Or this will be over before it starts.”

“But—-”

“Later.” He caught her hands in his and pushed back, pinning her arms against the mattress on either side of her head. “I canna risk unmanning myself. I’ve waited too long for this.” He lavished kisses along her neck. “Days. Weeks. Years.”

Holding her arms pinned to the mattress, he licked and kissed his way down the center of her body. When he reached her navel, he paused.

“I mean to taste you, mo chridhe. Try not to kick me in the head this time.”

Despite the warning, her hips still bucked when he laid his tongue to her most intimate place.

Oh, he was good.

Verra . . . verra . . . verra good. Within moments, he had her writhing beneath him. He explored every fold and hollow with his tongue, circling her bud before sliding down to dip his tongue inside her.