Highland Scoundrel (Campbell Trilogy #3)(97)

She was still standing on the bed before him, and she was suddenly aware that her br**sts were right at his eye-level. Slowly, he worked the ties of her nightraile, the heel of his hands brushing the hard tips. She couldn't see his eyes, but she could feel them on her, caressing her with their heat.

Her knees wobbled when his hands cupped her br**sts and lifted them to his face. He circled her ni**les with his thumbs, creating a gentle friction with the fabric, until she throbbed. She wriggled, her body restless.

But his exquisite torture had just begun.

Chapter 19

Duncan called on every last ounce of his restraint. Her bold desire for him was like a powerful aphrodisiac, her open admiration for his body a siren's call almost impossible to resist. And then when her gaze had fallen on his c**k …

He groaned, the memory sent a fresh surge of blood to the already throbbing head.

His body urged him to give her what she wanted. To rip off the flimsy piece of linen that covered her, toss her down on the bed and swiv her until the demon of desire that had possessed him let go. Until he could think straight.

She did something to him—she always had. She touched something inside him that unleashed a primitive side that he'd never known existed. Good intentions. Control. Honor. All fell by the wayside in the face of his desire for her.

It was everything he had not to give into it. Not this time. Explosive passion wasn't enough. He wanted everything. Her trust. Her heart. Her soul.

If only her br**sts weren't so spectacular. He weighed them in his hands, lifted them to his face to bury his nose in the deep cleft between them and inhaled the soft fragrance of her skin.

No one smelled like she did. Clean and sweet, with the faint scent of honeysuckle. It filled his nose, his lungs, his body. He wanted to drown in it, in her.

Her ni**les beaded under his fingertips. Gently, he rolled them between his thumb and forefinger to a stiff pink point. Too sweet a temptation. He'd wanted to undress her slowly, but he couldn't wait another minute to have her naked. Images of her gorgeous body had haunted him since that day at the loch. Taking the hem of the nightraile, he slowly drew it up the length of her body and over her head.

When it was off, she blushed and instinctively tried to cover herself. But he would have none of it. “No. Don't. You're so damn beautiful.” He smiled, seeing her pink cheeks. “Especially when you're blushing.”

Slowly she removed her hands, revealing her creamy nakedness to his view.

God's blood, he thought, taking in the heavy round curves of her br**sts, the slim contours of her waist and hips, and the long shapely legs. I'm a lucky man.

His silence had given her the wrong idea. “I've changed as well. I've had two children.”

He slid his hands around her waist. “You've only become more beautiful.” How could she not see it? He traced the heavy contour of her breast with the back of his finger and looked into her eyes. “Beautiful.”

Needing to taste her, he scooped the soft, round flesh in his hands and lifted her br**sts to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss on each tip.

She made a sharp sound that told him she'd forgotten her embarrassment.

He caressed her with his hands, with his mouth, with his tongue. Sucking her ni**les one at a time deep in his mouth. Her skin was so soft and smooth. Velvet under his tongue.

She moaned, her back arching. His c**k jerked hard against his stomach. She was so damned responsive, he could make her come by just sucking her br**sts.

But he had other plans.

He wrapped his hands around her ankles and looked into her eyes. Through the soft, haze of passion he saw her anticipation.

Slowly he moved his hands up, sculpting the long, slim legs that were every bit as shapely as he remembered. He stopped just above her knees.

He heard her breath catch, and felt her legs wobble.

His fingers brushed the soft skin of her inner thighs. Now she was shaking, trembling with desire. And deliciously wet. He bent down and replaced his fingers with his mouth, nuzzling her, inhaling the soft scent of her womanhood.

Her hands clasped his shoulders, as if her legs had suddenly given out. He slid his hands around to cup her bottom, to bring her more fully under his dominion.

“Duncan,” she said, in weak protest. “You can't—”

She stopped when he licked her, her tight, round bottom clenching in his hand. A devilish chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Oh, yes, I can. And I will—very thoroughly.” He licked her again, tasting her deeper.

She gasped, moaned, shuddered. He lifted his gaze to hers. “Look at me, Jeannie. I want to see your eyes as I pleasure you.”

Her green eyes met his, wild and full of passion. Her lips were parted, her breath panting.

His chest tightened. God, she was beautiful. And shaking with desire.

Holding her gaze, he kissed her again, drawing his tongue along the damp opening, then easing slowly inside. He sighed into her, his tongue thrusting and circling in long delicious strokes. All the while holding her gaze, watching as green turned black. As lids fluttered. As cheeks turned pink with the flush of pleasure. He sensed her restlessness, sensed her fighting release, and pushed her harder, deeper, closer to the edge. He kissed her until she cried out. Then he held her there, sucking until she shattered. He felt the spasms take hold as her body clenched and pulsed with her release.

When the last pulse had ebbed, she collapsed against him, her body limp. Satisfied, but by no means finished, he showed a little mercy and lowered her to the bed.