Seduction of a Highland Lass (McCabe Trilogy #2)(41)

Always before, a quick tup had been to his liking. He took lasses to his bed who enjoyed a fast, playful romp. But here and now, he wanted to savor every moment. He wanted it to last forever. He’d take his time and show her the delights of the flesh—and the heart.

Rising before her, he lowered her onto the bed and pressed his palms into the mattress on either side of her head. Her hair spread out over the sheets like a silken mass. The strands glowed like spun gold in the light from the fire. He ran his fingertips over the glints of color and the varying shades intermixed in the thick pelt of her hair.

She stared up at him, her eyes aglow with trust. It humbled him that she offered him what she’d never granted another man. That she had such faith in him staggered him.

She stretched and twisted beneath him before raising her arms invitingly. Gently he gathered her hands, kissed her knuckles and then lowered them back down to her belly. He slid his hands up her arms, caught her sleeves and slowly pulled them over her shoulders, baring the creamy flesh.

Unable to resist such a temptation, he bent down and kissed the top of her shoulder and teased a line to the curve of her neck. Chill bumps broke out over her skin and danced beneath his lips. He chuckled softly when he took the lobe of her ear between his teeth and she shuddered violently.

“You have a wicked mouth, warrior.”

“I’ve only just begun.”

He pulled at her dress until it hung precariously over the tips of her br**sts. He held his breath, and his body tightened like the string of a bow. His c**k swelled and pushed hard against his trews, straining to be set free and find her sweetness.

He cursed under his breath and clenched his jaw in a frantic effort to maintain control. For several long seconds, his chest heaved as he breathed in and out.

“Is something wrong?”

He yanked his gaze down to see the worry in her eyes and he kissed her, long and leisurely, to chase the fears away. “Nay, lass. Nothing is wrong at all. Everything is right. Just right.”

He left her mouth, nipping lightly at her chin on his way back to her chest. He paused just above the valley of her br**sts and then nuzzled into the hollow, taking the hem of her bodice over the tips.

Her dress gathered at her waist and he stared down at the pebbled ni**les, a delectable pink, so taut that they beckoned his mouth—an urge he was powerless to fight.

He licked one bud and she cried out, her voice hoarse and thin. She gripped his shoulders, her fingers digging into his flesh.

She bowed underneath him when he found her other nipple and sucked it strongly into his mouth.

She was so taut, straining upward, her fingers dug so tight that she looked to be near pain. When he loosened his hold on her breast, she whimpered and stirred restlessly beneath him.

“Shh, lass, ’tis just beginning. Be at ease. Let me love you.”

He moved back until his feet were once again on the floor. He pulled at her dress until it came away, leaving her bare to his gaze.

He swallowed. In all his life, he’d never seen a lass more beautiful. Her skin glowed in the firelight. Creamy and smooth with nary an imperfection. She was perfectly fashioned, her hips rounded, her waist narrow, and generous br**sts to fill a man’s hand and mouth.

Her belly was flat with a tiny, shallow indention at her navel that he was dying to run his tongue around.

His gaze drifted lower to the small patch of curls nestled at the apex of her legs, guarding her innocence and the sweetness found within.

He hadn’t thought it possible to grow harder than he already was. His c**k strained against his trews until the very feel of the material drove him mad.

He didn’t want to frighten her, but if he didn’t shed his clothing soon, he was going to claw it from his flesh.

“Lie there while I undress,” he said in a low voice.

Her eyes widened as his fingers fumbled with the laces of his trews. Then he peeled the material away and his c**k sprang free. The relief was so acute that he nearly went to his knees right then and there.

He yanked at his tunic and sent it sailing across the room. When he returned his gaze to Keeley, he saw that her gaze was fixed on his groin. He wasn’t sure whether she was appalled or curious. Her expression was a strange mixture of both.

He stepped between her thighs, and her hands rose automatically as if to ward him off.

He caught her wrists and held them as his thumbs caressed the soft pads of hers.

“ ’Tis nothing to be afraid of, Keeley. I won’t hurt you. I’ll be as gentle as a newborn lamb.”

And if it killed him, he wouldn’t break his word.

Chapter 18

Keeley held her breath until she was light-headed and near to fainting. When she let it out, it came out in a rush that unsteadied her.

Before her stood a man—a warrior—that had no equal. He was honed by the fires of battle. Muscled. Scarred. Lean. No spare flesh on any part of his body.

He towered over her, his strength a tangible thing in the small space of the chamber. He could so easily hurt her, and yet she trusted him fully. His gentleness soothed her and made her ache with longing.

But looking at his groin with his … appendage … jutting upward like a battle flag, she cast a doubtful look upward. “Are you sure … Are you sure we’ll … it’ll … fit?”

She nearly groaned with her humiliation. How was she supposed to act like a grown woman who’d been on her own for the last years when she swooned at the mere sight of a man’s shaft. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t seen one before. She’d seen his for that matter, but they’d all been at rest. Not flagging upward like a battle-ax.