The Hawk (Highland Guard #2)(64)

His lips were gentle but insistent, urging the response that she was eager to give. She returned his kiss with all the fervor of innocent passion that had been building inside her from the first.

But he seemed content to take his time. To drag out every touch, every caress. To drive her crazy with anticipation. He’d promised pleasure, and he was giving it. But not fast enough.

She knew he’d done this before—no doubt more times than she wanted to know. His control and deliberateness reminded her of that fact. She wanted to taste his passion. To feel the full force of his desire for her. To know that she was not alone in the madness that had taken hold.

He was leaning over her as she reclined on the bench, but it wasn’t enough. She craved contact, needing to feel the weight of his big, hard body pressing down on her. She pulled him closer, trying to silently impart her wishes, but he only lifted his head and chuckled softly.

His thumb caressed her bottom lip, damp from his kiss. “Patience, te bheag. I want to make it good for you.”

Was he daft? “It is—”

He pressed his finger to her lips. “No managing, Ellie. Do you want me to stop, or are you going to let me do this my way?”

She thought about testing him—she wasn’t the only one breathing hard—but in the end decided not to chance it. Now that she’d begun this wicked dance, she didn’t want to stop until she reached its fruition. So she nodded.

“Good girl,” he said, replacing his finger with his mouth.

He was a cruel man. Torturing her with each slow, deliberate caress until she thought she would die of anticipation. When he finally coaxed her lips apart, she moaned with relief at the delicious warmth of his tongue sliding in her mouth. Though it wasn’t a surprise, the sensation was still new enough to make her shudder. It felt as if her entire body was slowly coming apart.

This time she knew how to respond. When her tongue circled his, she was rewarded for her efforts with a deep masculine groan that reverberated down to her toes. It was all the encouragement she needed. Sensing a weakening in his control, she threw herself into the kiss with everything she had.

And it worked. With each erotic stroke, his kiss grew more demanding. Harder. Deeper. Wetter.

She was so hot. The sultry air of the sauna wreaked havoc with her senses. Everything felt so intense. Her body restless, sensitive, and teeming with heat. Her ni**les were hard and throbbing, aching for the press of his hand or the weight of his chest. The soft place between her legs felt wet and throbbing, wanting …

She didn’t know what.

Her fingers curled into his back desperately. Beneath the damp linen of his shirt, she could feel the hard splay of his muscles straining under her fingertips. The memories of his bare chest were so fresh, she wanted to rip off his shirt and press her hands against his hot skin. To mold her palms over his broad shoulders, over the round muscles of his arms and the flat slabs of his back and stomach.

Maybe he sensed her urgency?

His mouth moved over her jaw, ravishing her throat, lingering at the sensitive curve of her shoulder.

She tried to breathe through the frantic pounding of her heart as he worked the ties of her chemise. She was barely aware of the hot air on her naked breast before his hand covered her. She gasped with raw pleasure as his palm, rough with calluses, cupped her and his fingers worked her nipple to a taut peak.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” She gazed at him through half-lidded eyes, embarrassed to realize that he was staring at her br**sts as if he’d never seen anything so spectacular. As if the small mounds of flesh could somehow compare to those with far more generous proportions. “You have the tiniest, pinkest ni**les.” He ran his finger over one just to emphasize his point. “I think they might be the sweetest I’ve ever seen.”

The warmth of his breath on her skin made it prickle. His mouth was only inches away. She gasped with shock when he flicked her with his tongue. He held her gaze, his eyes darkening with something she didn’t recognize right before he covered her with his mouth.

Hot shards of pleasure exploded inside her. Instinctively she arched into his mouth and plunged her fingers through the thick softness of his hair to clutch the back of his head, craving the added pressure. He sucked her nipple deep into his mouth, nibbling it between his teeth with just enough friction to make her cry out.

God, it felt incredible—as if he was drawing something from deep inside her. Yet every wicked sensation wrought by his mouth on her breast was mirrored in the tender place between her legs. The throbbing. The warmth. The urgency.

He made a sharp sound deep in his throat, and shifted her slightly to slide his hand under the hem of her chemise between her legs. The brush of his fingers on her thigh shocked her from her dazed reverie. She stiffened and pressed her thighs together, catching his hand. “Don’t. You can’t.”

He lifted his mouth from her breast and grinned. “Relax, love, there’s nothing to worry about.” He looked into her eyes. “I’m only going to touch you with my fingers. You’re going to like it.”

But it seemed so … intimate.

She bit her lip, and he leaned up to kiss her.

“Trust me,” he whispered against her mouth, then kissed her with hard, insistent strokes that made her want to.

Slowly, her legs fell apart, releasing his hand.

A moment later she knew he was right.