The Chief (Highland Guard #1)(103)

She didn’t bother to hide her appreciation as he removed his clothing, devouring him with her eyes, her gaze traveling over his chest, down his stomach, along the long, thick length of his cock. The unabashed desire in her eyes made it hard for him to concentrate. An unconscious lick of her lips made his knees almost buckle.

He turned slightly, and her gaze lingered on his flanks. Her eyebrows pinched together. “What’s that mark?”

Because he didn’t usually have anyone studying his backside, he’d forgotten about it. “A tattoo from blue woad. I was given it at birth.”

She nodded. “I’ve heard of them before, but never seen one. Is it a tradition among your clan?”

An intriguing idea he thought. “Nay, it was to identify me as the eldest. It cannot be removed.” He grinned. “I guess they figured I wasn’t as likely to have my arse cut off as I might an arm or a leg.”

She made a face. “Can I see it?”

He moved closer, his muscles jumping when he felt the soft pad of her finger tracing the design. “Mor,” she said, then translated, “great or big.” A naughty smile played upon her lips. “It certainly fits.”

“Wicked lass,” he chided. She knew full well “Mor” was an epithet commonly used to signify the elder—as “Og” was used for the younger.

“I like the design.”

“It’s Irish,” he said tightly. His c**k felt as if it was going to explode from her innocent exploration.

“Did it hurt?”

“Not that I can remember.” Hot needles pushed under the skin wasn’t half as painful as what she was causing right now.

Trying to keep a rein on his desire, he sat on the edge of the bed and moved her around to stand before him. His time to explore. He helped her with the pins and ties, enough to where she could do the rest herself. “Undress for me, Tina,” he ordered. “Slowly.”

Heat rose in her cheeks, but she did as he asked. Piece by piece, she removed her clothing, holding his gaze the entire time.

He got hotter and hotter as each item hit the floor—cloak, cotte, slippers, hose. By the time she reached her chemise, she’d definitely gotten the hang of it. Inch by inch she lifted it up over her legs. Her thighs. Stopping right before revealing the sweet center of her womanhood.

His muscles strained against his too-tight skin, his breath coming hard as his eyes burned into her. She teased and taunted until he made a sound that was half impatience, half growl. Right before he was about to rip the damned thing off her, she lifted the hem to her stomach. He sucked in his breath, barely able to stop himself from reaching out and touching her, knowing she’d be warm and slick with passion.

She lifted the chemise higher and higher until he could just see the soft under-curve of her br**sts.

She paused and he stopped breathing, resuming only when she revealed the beautiful, lush mounds of flesh, tipped with very hard, very ripe, ni**les.

Pulling the chemise over her head, she tossed it on the floor and stood before him, perfectly—beautifully—naked. The last few rays of sunlight filtered through the single window, casting a warm, sultry glow over her.

She was incredible. A small, compact, tightly formed bundle of femininity. Long waves of silky dark hair flowed around her shoulders. Shapely legs, curvy hips, a narrow waist, br**sts to make a man want to bury his face in them and weep with pleasure, wrapped up in the most flawless, creamy-soft skin he’d ever seen—or touched.

“Come here,” he ordered, not recognizing his own voice. It was rough with an intensity he’d never heard before.

She did as he bid, moving to stand right before him. He could see she was embarrassed, but he was ruthless. He gave her a hard look. “I need to assure myself that you are well first.”

She gazed at him uncertainly. “You do?”

He nodded. “You are going to need to lie down so I can examine …” unable to resist touching her for a moment longer, he slid his hand over the velvety curve of her hip … “every inch of you.”

Her eyes widened, then heated with anticipation.

She lay down on the bed, a sensual feast for the eyes.

He moved over her, straddling her with his knees so he could roam freely up and down. He started at her mouth, brushing his lips over hers as he trailed a path down across her jaw to her ear, flicking his tongue along the way. He kissed her neck, burying his face in the silky-softness of her still damp hair, the thick, dark tresses rich with lavender.

She squirmed under him and he ached to press his hot skin on hers, to feel the exquisite shock of contact. Not yet. Like a penitent, he tortured himself. He was going to take this slowly and savor every minute of it.

He continued his study, examining every inch of baby-soft skin with his mouth and tongue—her throat, her arms, the pulse at her wrist … her incredible br**sts.

He lingered there for a while. Licking and sucking her deep into his mouth, rolling the taut tip between this teeth and tongue until she arched her back and cried out in desperation.

He left her wanting, sliding his mouth down the soft plane of her stomach, to her hips, and down the insides of her legs. Her scent drove him mad, rousing every primal instinct in him.

She was shaking with something she didn’t even know she wanted. But he would show her.

His c**k grew even bigger.