The Hunter (Highland Guard #7)(93)

Just thinking about it made him pulse. He fought the urge to throw his head back and surge inside.

But it was a battle he lost. His c**k was too hard, her slick, warm entrance too inviting, and whatever control he’d had fled the moment he rubbed his sensitive head against her silky dampness. Holding her gaze, he started to press inside, inch by inch, but the intimacy was too intense, the emotions too powerful. It was too much. The gentle nudge became a quick plunge as he possessed her fully, binding her to him in a way that could not be undone.

He let out a groan of pure, primitive satisfaction, overwhelmed by a sensation of relief and something else. The only way to describe it was utter rightness. As if he was where he belonged. As if he’d found his destiny.

Her soft cry of pain broke through some of his haze. But it was too late. Too late for recriminations. Too late to change his mind. Too late to take it back—he’d gone too far, he couldn’t pull back now even if he wanted to. She was his.

At least for the moment.

He clenched his teeth, holding himself stone still, wanting to give her time to adjust to the feel of him. But it felt too good. She was tight and hot, gripping him like a damned glove, and every instinct in his body screamed to move.

He stole a glance down at her, surprised to see her eyes not squeezed shut, but looking at him with the emotion that she’d forced him to acknowledge.

Love. His chest squeezed. A wave of tenderness crashed over him. He leaned down and gave her a soft kiss. “I’m sorry.”

She smiled. “For what?”

For so many things. “I hurt you.”

“It isn’t so bad … now.”

As if to prove her words, she moved, sending a hot swell of pleasure surging to the tip of him. He groaned, unable to resist the primitive instinct to respond with a movement of his own. A tight, quick nudge.

She winced.

He cursed. “Damn it. I’m sorry. I’m trying not to move, but you just feel so good, it’s killing me.”

Given how much pain he was in at the moment, the smile that spread across her face wasn’t exactly appreciated. “I do? I am?”

He gave her a sharp glare, his teeth clenched tightly. “You don’t need to be so pleased about it.”

Her smile became even broader.

He leaned down to kiss her again, the movement making him sink deeper.

She gasped, but this time not with pain. Their eyes met. “Oh! That felt …”

He knew how it felt. It felt incredible. He moved again, drawing out just a little bit and sinking back in. Her eyes widened. “Oh …” Again. “Oh!”

When she circled her arms around his neck to hold on tighter, it was all the invitation he needed. Holding her gaze, he thrust again—and again. Watching for any sign of pain. But it wasn’t pain that brought a soft pink blush to her cheeks.

When her hips rose to meet him, he couldn’t hold back. His strokes lengthened. Deepened. Went faster and harder, her gasping moans urging him on.

The pleasure was intense. Overwhelming. Like nothing he’d ever imagined. She was … everything. And more.

So tight. So hot. Sweat poured off him, the frantic thrusts taking their toll. Pressure built at the base of his spine, stronger and more powerful than anything he’d ever felt before. Her body gripped him, milked him, pulled him over the edge.

And he took her with him. Holding her hips, he thrust in hard and deep, grinding out her pleasure in slow, hard circles as his own roared in his ears.

He came with a white-hot intensity that shook him to his core. For a moment, the pleasure was so acute his mind went black. Again and again the spasms wracked him. Gripping. Squeezing. Wringing him dry.

“I love you so much.” Her words echoed over and over again in his head, in his heart.

When the last ebb had faded from his loins, he collapsed, spent and exhausted, on the bed beside her, reveling in the sensations and strange feelings running through him. He still felt like he was flying. He felt light-headed, his mind a little soft and fuzzy. Almost as if he’d had more of that whisky than he’d realized. Jesus! He’d never realized it could be like … that.

Incredible. Amazing. Like nothing he’d ever experienced before. They’d been … connected. Not just joined, but connected. He’d never felt closer to anyone in his life as he had at the moment he was inside her, looking deep into her eyes. When they’d found release together, it wasn’t just his body that was sated but his soul. And the euphoria hadn’t ended with release. He felt—the feeling was so foreign to him, it took him a moment to put a name to it—happy. As if he could lie here with her forever.

She was so damned sweet. So giving. And she loved him? How had he gotten so lucky?

He was about to reach over and tuck her under his arm, when she spoke. “If this is what marriage has to offer, I think I shall be quite content.”

She might have doused him with a bucket of cold water, the shock of her words was the same. The fuzziness disappeared. The euphoria and happiness turned to an icy chill as the reality of what he’d done hit him quick and hard.

Fuck.

The oath was well placed. That was exactly what he’d done—both literally and figuratively. Not just her, but himself as well.

Instead of tucking her against him, he stared at the wooden roof of the barn in stunned disbelief as the ramifications battered down on him relentlessly.