Highland Scoundrel (Campbell Trilogy #3)(36)
The heat of his body warmed her, gentle and soothing, taking away the chill like the morning sun on a bed of dew.
She tasted him through the salt of her tears, the dark, spicy masculine essence of forbidden fruit. So irresistible it had to be sinful. One taste and she was lost.
But the tender kiss was like a sprinkle of rain on a raging wildfire—too gentle, too sweet to douse the flames of her fear. Only the fierce downpour of passion could tame the desperate maelstrom lashing inside her.
Don't let him go.
She sank against him, seeking the reassurance of his solid strength. Leather and steel bit into her chest, but she didn't care. He was hard and steady, a rock in a stormy sea, and as long as she could hold on to him, nothing could go wrong.
He groaned, sensing her need, threading his fingers through her hair to grip her neck and bring her mouth more firmly against his.
His lips moved over hers, roughly, passionately. The comfort and tenderness of moments before turned hard and possessive. Demanding. All of the emotion that he'd fought to contain exploded in a rush of hot, searing lust. She could taste his hunger, his desire, and her body heated with awareness. Sensation shot through her in hot, shimmering waves. All she could think about was the way that he'd touched her, covering her with his big hands, pushed inside her and thrust until the heavens had parted and she'd glimpsed paradise.
He smelled incredible. She inhaled the wind and the sun, a potent primitive scent that only increased her urgency. It filled her mind with wicked thoughts. She wanted to feel him naked against her. Wanted to slide her mouth and tongue over his chest and taste the salt of his hot skin as he pounded inside her, working them both to a frantic lather.
Her hands clutched his shoulders, gripping hard, trying to bring him even closer. She stretched against the hard length of his body, lifting up on her tiptoes to circle her hands around his neck, seeking …
His hand slid down her back to cup her bottom and lift her firmly against him.
Oh, God, yes. Pleasure broke over her in heavy waves. Her body softened. Tingled. The strange fluttering awakened low in her belly, damp and insistent. She circled against him, instinctively seeking friction to ease the anxious pressure.
He growled, a fierce primal sound that called to a place deep inside her. An erotic, carnal place she was only just discovering. She wanted to make him sound like that always. Crazy with need. Crazy for her.
He lifted her leg to circle his waist and pinned her back up against the door. The hard column of his desire pressed insistently between her legs. This time his size did not bring fear, only eagerness. She remembered all too viscerally his fullness inside her, hot and heavy, stretching her, driving her home to oblivion.
She wanted him there now.
And he wanted it, too. Badly. She could feel the hammering of his heart, the taut muscles flexing under her fingertips, the jerkiness of his movements. The air verily crackled with danger. His passion was like a cask of gunpowder in her hands, ready to explode.
His tongue was in her mouth, probing with long, wicked strokes that left no part of her unclaimed. She opened against him, wanting it even deeper. Harder. Wetter. Her entire body ached for him. Need obscured everything else.
No longer bound by innocence, she knew what this man could do to her and she wanted that feeling again. Over and over until they collapsed in a sated heap of naked entwined limbs. Until he never wanted to leave her again.
His mouth dropped to her throat, his hand clutched her breast, squeezing, their bodies undulating toward only one conclusion.
He tugged her stays and bodice down to access her br**sts, almost tearing the fabric in his urgency. She cried out when his mouth covered her, when he sucked her deep into her mouth, tugging her throbbing nipple between his teeth as his hips rocked against her.
God, she could feel it. Feel the pleasure building. The heat intensifying, concentrating at her very core.
He fumbled with the ties at his waist. A moment later she heard his sporran and scabbard hit the ground, then felt the air on her bare skin as he lifted her skirts.
She was so wet, so hot, literally shaking with desire, her need all consuming.
He lifted his head from her breast and gazed into her half-lidded eyes. His eyes were hooded, dark with passion, every muscle in his face and neck tight with strain. “I can't wait,” he growled through clenched teeth. “God, what do you do to me?” he groaned, his voice raw and exposed—almost angry.
Positioning himself between her legs, he lifted them around his waist so that her feet were off the floor, and surged inside her with a deep, guttural groan of pure masculine satisfaction.
She gasped from the exquisite force, her back slamming against the door as if to mark his possession. Because that's what it was—possession. She felt his power surge inside her, every inch of his six foot plus muscled frame poised and straining against her. He was so big and hard, filling her completely, the weight of her body taking him even deeper. She let the sensation wash over her, over and over. It was incredible, beautiful in its primitive perfection. She could stay like this forever.
Their eyes met, emotion breaking through the haze of unfettered passion. She felt his love for her as surely as if he'd just reached out and touched her heart. “You are so damned beautiful,” he kissed her again, hard and punishing. “You make me lose my mind.”
“Good,” she whispered, wriggling him even deeper. “I like you this way.”