The Hawk (Highland Guard #2)(92)

A huge wave picked them up and nearly turned them sideways before slamming the skiff down with enough force to make her teeth and bones rattle. “Aren’t you scared?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Nay,” he replied automatically, then paused, hugging her a little closer. “Maybe a little.”

His fear was for her. The admission filled her with a swell of happiness. Perhaps he wasn’t completely immune to human frailties—even if they weren’t for himself. Perhaps he did care for her.

Before she could reply, he teased, “But don’t think about repeating that to anyone. I’ve an image to uphold.”

Her smile turned into a cry when another harrowing wave took them on a perilous ride up its steep face and crashed over the top to the flat below. The constant pull between moments of panic and relief was straining. She felt it in her chest. In her lungs. She didn’t know how much longer she could take it.

Shivering, she gripped the leather of his cotun in her fists until her knuckles turned white. “I can’t stand this.”

He soothed her with low murmurs whispered in her ear and the soft caress of his hand on her arm. Her waist. Her hip. And then her bottom.

Heat pooled between her legs. Her limbs loosened. The frantic unevenness of her breath slowed.

He stroked her some more, sliding his hand over her body possessively. Insistently. And she melted against him. Her body responding to every touch.

Yes. This was what she needed.

He was trying to distract her—and it was working. She barely noticed the slam of the next wave when he cupped her breast, plying her nipple between his fingers as it beaded and hardened at his touch. When the gentle caress wasn’t enough, she arched, pressing herself deeper into his hand, aching for pressure.

Her hips swayed back, and she could feel him big and hard against her. Her nerves—already set on edge—flared. The primal instinct for fear turned instantly to something else: lust.

She wanted him inside her. Wanted him with a desperateness that rivaled her fear only moments before.

She rubbed her bottom against him, her body using a language all its own to tell him what she craved.

The low murmurs in her ear turned to a growl and ravaging kisses as his mouth plundered a trail down her neck.

The storm roared around them, tossing the small boat to-and-fro like a child’s toy.

This was crazy.

But she didn’t care. Under the cocoon of blankets, the maelstrom swirling around them seemed to disappear. If they were going to die, she wanted to live one more time. And if they made it through the storm, she knew she might never have another chance to find passion with the man she loved.

She turned around, their gazes catching in the darkness. Heat blazed in his eyes. “Make it go away,” she whispered. Not just the storm, but the restlessness he’d roused inside her.

He answered her plea with a kiss that took her breath away. A kiss as fierce and frenzied as the storm that railed around them.

It should have been difficult with the constant motion of the boat, but he anticipated the movements and used the strength of his body to brace them against the sea. But truth be told, he was kissing her so passionately and her body was so crazed for his touch that she didn’t know how it happened.

She was under him, her skirts were up at her waist, the ties of his braies had been loosened enough to release the hard column of his erection, and then, blissfully, with one hard thrust he was inside her.

She cried out in pleasure as the abrupt invasion, as the thick, heavy fullness beat inside her. It felt incredible. No pain this time, only pleasure. She wanted to hold on to this feeling, to this connection, forever.

She gasped when the boat lurched, and he sank even deeper.

Then they started to move. Her hips lifting, his pounding in long, hard thrusts that seemed to beat to the rhythm of the wind and rain. It was wild and crazy. Raw and rough.

It was lovemaking at its most basic and elemental state. With the wind howling, the rain pouring, and the waves crashing all around them, it felt as if they were one with nature.

He thrust again and again, as if he couldn’t go hard or fast enough. As if his passion for her was as uncontrollable as the storm. She would never forget the way he looked at this moment, hair plastered to his head, rain streaming down his face, his expression fierce and passionate.

She wrapped her legs around him, wanting him closer, wanting more of him. She gripped his shoulders, holding on to his strength as the powerful sensations started to take hold.

It felt so good. Her body tingled. Quivered. Trembled. She could feel the pressure building. Feel the heat and dampness concentrating. Feel desire coiling and tightening with every delicious stroke. Her hands slid down over the hard muscle of his flanks, gripping, and pressing him more firmly to her. Sensation shattered inside her. Her cries were lost in the howl of the wind as spasm after spasm of pleasure unfurled inside.

She felt his body stiffen and then heard his groan of pleasure as his release latched on to hers. Together they rode out the storm until the last ebb of pleasure was carried away with the wind.

When it was over, she barely had the strength to move. He seemed similarly affected and collapsed on top of her. She thought he would crush her, but she was surprised how much she liked the feel of his weight pressing down on her.

After a moment, however, he rolled to the side, drawing the blanket over them again and tucking her back against him.