The Highlander Is All That (Untamed Highlanders #4)(35)

But he didn’t want to stop her.

Elizabeth, on his lap, kissing him.

It was sublime.

It was also torture, because Hamish knew they could not continue.

“Elizabeth, please. We must talk.”

She looped her arms around his neck and pressed her breasts against his chest. “We can talk like this.”

“You may be able to, but I—”

“You, what?”

“My brain has descended.”

She tipped her head to the side. “What does that mean?”

“It means I canna think with you on my lap like this.”

“Like this?” She made some horrendous circular movement with her hips, one that made his eyes cross.

“Elizabeth. Do you have any idea what you are doing?”

Her grin was wicked. “I’m fairly certain.”

“You are driving me mad.”

“Excellent.”

“I thought you chose Twiggenberry. You were supposed to choose Twiggenberry.”

“Twiggenberry makes me ill. You, on the other hand, you smell like heaven.”

To his consternation, she nestled her nose in the crook of his neck and licked him.

Licked him.

“Darling, please. You have to stop.”

She chuckled. “It’s just a kiss.”

“It willna be,” he warned. “And then you’ll be ruined.”

She leaned back and smiled at him. “Ruined for Twiggy? How awful.”

Twiggy? “Twiggy?”

“It’s what he wants me to call him. I think I shall retch again.”

“You canna be serious.”

“I am. About both.”

He tried to hold back a laugh—this was no laughing matter—but couldn’t.

“Honestly, Hamish. I’ve thought about this a lot.” She stilled and all the amusement drained from her face. Her gaze was clear and solemn. “You are the man I want. You and no one else.” She raked her fingers through his hair and held him still while she kissed him again.

This kiss, a benediction.

He could not help but respond.

What man could?

This was Elizabeth, the woman he wanted more than breath itself. This was Elizabeth, sweet and innocent and absolute perfection.

Aye, he wasn’t titled or wealthy. He didn’t live in a castle or a mansion, but he did love her.

Maybe it would be enough.

It had to be.

“Are you sure?” He had to ask.

“I am,” she said, and then she kissed him again.

Without breaking the kiss, he rolled her gently off him and to the side and then he levered over her. He traced the curve of her cheek with trembling fingers. “I love you, Elizabeth St. Claire.” It seemed important to say . . . before.

“I love you too, Hamish Robb.”

Ah. What glorious words. He’d heard them many times before, but never had they touched him so. He pressed his lips to hers, then to her cheek, her neck. She sighed and arched into him. His cock, impatient and rampant, surged.

His blanket had slipped but she was fully clothed, which made progress difficult. Undaunted, he persevered.

Besides, he had no intention of moving quickly. Not this time. Not her first time.

He had far too many fantasies to fulfill.

Leisurely, he made his way down her body, caressing her through her gown. When he touched her breasts, finding those hardened little tips, he circled them until she cried out. His palm skimmed her ribs, her belly, and he found another tender spot at the crux of her thighs. She stared at him, her eyes wide and damp with tears. “Hamish,” she breathed as he touched her there. “Hamish!”

“Does this feel good, my wee darling?”

“Hamish!”

He chuckled and tugged up her skirts, then eased down onto his knees beside the bed.

She sat up in a rush and stared at him. “What are you doing?”

His grin was wicked. “You’ll see, my darling. Lie back down.”

She did not. But then, she never had been easily led.

It did not stop him from proceeding. He lifted her skirts, spread her legs, and stared at the most beautiful sight he’d ever beheld.

“Ah, Elizabeth.”

“Hamish?”

“Trust me, darling. Trust me,” he said. And then, he lowered his head.





Chapter Thirteen


Oh good lord in heaven above.

Elizabeth had never felt anything so divine. She had not even known the human body could know such bliss.

And Hamish was doing this with his tongue alone!

He gently nudged at the bundle of nerves hidden in her folds and glory exploded. It danced on her skin and barreled through her veins in a heated rush. She devolved into a mindless lump, capable only of moaning and groaning and clutching at his hair as he feasted.

She never wanted it to end.

Never.

And then, the sensations changed. They went from waves of delight and pleasure to something more needy, greedy, and raw.

It was a sublime agony and her yesses turned to pleas.

Tension coiled within her and tightened. She thrashed and cried out and struggled for . . . she knew not what.

But her body knew.

Her body knew what it wanted.