The Hunter (Highland Guard #7)(117)

“I should have known.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t want you to know. Hell, I didn’t realize how bad it was myself.”

“Thank God for Helen,” she said.

He returned the sentiment and cupped her chin, lifting her gaze to his. “You haven’t answered my question.”

She smiled. “Yes … Yes!”

“Thank God,” he groaned, drawing her into his arms. The tender kiss meant to seal the promise of their future, however, quickly turned into something else. Something hot and demanding. She wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer, plastering her body to his.

The warm stroke of his tongue in her mouth made her shiver. Heat softened her bones, spreading over her in heavy molten waves. God, she loved kissing him.

The circles of his tongue became deeper and hotter, faster and more carnal. His body grew harder, rigid with the force of his desire.

She moaned, and he drew away.

“Ah hell. Did I hurt you?” His finger slid over the cut on her cheek and the bruises on her chin.

She shook her head.

“I wished you hadn’t killed him,” he said. She looked at him in surprise. But his face was as fierce as she’d ever seen it. “I would have made it much more painful for him for hurting you like this.”

She rose on her toes and pressed a kiss on his lips. “It is in the past. And right now I am more concerned with the future—our future.”

Not so absently, she let her hand fall between them, drawing little circles on his stomach with her fingertips. His skin was so warm and smooth, and the closer she danced to the prominent bulge under the drying cloth, the darker his eyes grew and the harder the bands of muscle across his stomach clenched.

He would have grabbed her wrist to stop her, but she was smart enough to use her injured hand.

“Janet …” he warned huskily. “Keep touching me like that, and I might forget my honorable intentions and your injuries.”

She smiled and looked up into his eyes. “Good. I’m fine, really I am. Please, I want this. I want you.”

Just so there would be no argument, she dropped her hand a little lower, grazing her wrist over the fat tip.

He sucked in his breath. “Jesus, Janet, you don’t fight fair.”

A wicked smile turned her mouth. “You can be gentle, can’t you?”

He scooped her up and carried her over to the bed. “I sure as hell hope so.”

With her injured wrist, she needed help to remove her clothes—a duty he was most happy to help with.

“I thought you weren’t a ‘damned handmaiden,’ ” she teased him as he unbuttoned her surcote, reminding him of a similar request she’d made in the fisherman’s hut not so long ago.

He gave a sharp laugh. “I think I’ve changed my mind. If you intend to help me with my baths, the least I can do is help you with your clothes.”

“Your enlightenment on parity in marriage is truly amazing,” she said dryly.

He chuckled. “Not to mention self-serving.”

When the last garment was removed, he stood back and looked at her for so long she started to try to cover herself with her hands. But he gently pulled them away. “Don’t,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “You are so beautiful.” He started to skim his fingers over her bare skin. “I want to touch every inch of you.”

It seemed as if he did just that. Janet’s breath was already coming fast when he finally leaned over and slid one taut nipple into his mouth, tugging it gently and circling it with his tongue. His silky dark hair slumped over to the side, brushing against her bare skin. She slid her fingers through it, holding him to her. He scooped her breast in his palm, squeezing and plying it between his hands as he took her deeper and deeper into his mouth.

Forgetting all about her injured ribs, she started to arch her back, moaning as the sensations started to build.

He lifted his head. “You are making it hard to go slow.”

“And who is to blame for that?”

He grinned, and it made her heart catch.

“I love seeing you smile,” she said softly. “You do not do enough of it.”

“I haven’t had much reason. But I suspect that will change.”

She knew it would, especially when he learned—

He leaned over and kissed her, and whatever she’d been about to tell him was lost in the sensual haze that crashed over her with all the subtlety of a tidal wave.

His heat, his scent, the feel of his skin rubbing against hers infused her, drowning out everything but the powerful sensations building inside.

He held his chest over her, careful not to press against her injured ribs, but she pulled him down, wanting to feel the contact. The heat of his bare chest against hers, and the heavy, solid weight of his body on top of her.

He’d removed the drying cloth from around his waist, and she could feel the equally solid length of his erection hot and throbbing against her belly. She pressed and circled her hips, trying to inch him closer.

He groaned, deepening the kiss and the long strokes of his tongue until she couldn’t take it anymore. She wanted him inside her. She wanted to feel him filling her.

Her heart was hammering, her breath was quickening, and the place between her legs was quivering with need. “Please,” she moaned.