The Raider (Highland Guard #8)(58)

A fight he nearly lost when she started to explore him, running her hand up his rock-hard length in a soft caress, petting him as if he were a wild beast. An analogy that wasn’t that far off the mark right now.

It felt so good he couldn’t stand it. The shy, maidenly fumblings were proving more arousing than the most practiced of strokings. Her innocent curiosity threatened to unman him.

“Oh God, sweetheart, you’re killing me.” The endearment slipped from his tongue so easily, it was hard to believe he’d never used one before.

Their eyes met, and she smiled shyly. He felt something jam in his chest. Something big and powerful and important. Something that should have given him pause, but instead only made him feel…

Shite, he swore, recognizing the feeling. He felt happy. It had been so damned long, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

“Tell me what to do,” she said.

He didn’t know if he could; every muscle in his body was clenched too tightly. Hell, he could have bounced rocks off his arse and stomach.

“Circle me with your hand,” he managed through gritted teeth, grabbing the edge of the tub to steel himself.

His knuckles turned white.

He groaned, surging into her hold at the first press of her fingers closing around him. Blood pulsed—nay, exploded—through his veins. He could have wept, the blast of pleasure was so intense that had he been standing, it would have brought him to his knees.

“I can’t,” she said. “You’re too big.”

Her disgruntled tone would have made him laugh if he weren’t so focused on trying not to explode. “Squeeze a little. I won’t break.”

Not yet—he hoped.

She did as instructed, and he nearly lost control right there as sensation shot through his spine, gathering at the base and hammering so hard it hurt just to hold it back.

This wasn’t going to last long. “Stroke me, sweetheart,” he whispered, covering her hand with his to show her how.

God, stroke me.

And she did. Quite effectively.

The gentle press of her soft, slender fingers around him, squeezing, milking, was too perfect. The pressure was too intense. A few hard pumps, and he couldn’t hold back any longer. “That’s it, love. Oh God, yes, right there…I’m going to…”

He should have closed his eyes and tossed his head back. Normally, that was exactly what he would have done. But he wanted to see her face. He didn’t want to miss a damned minute of her introduction to the world of passion.

Their eyes met and held right at the moment that she brought him to the very peak of pleasure. When he was at his weakest. When he couldn’t fight it, even if he wanted to.

A hard cry of pleasure tore from his lungs. He stiffened. He couldn’t turn away, not even when the spasms wracked him and he started to come. Nay, especially not then. The pleasure she squeezed from his body seemed intensified, sharpened somehow by the connection. By a closeness he’d never felt before. By the tender feelings squeezing in his chest.

For the first time in his life when Robbie took his release, it was not his alone but shared with someone else, and the experience was unlike any other. It was bigger, more powerful, and more significant. The moment was too poignant and the look exchanged between them too meaningful.

He let her in, and when it was over, and the reality of what he’d done finally hit him, he didn’t know how to get her out.

He bowed his head and swore, furious with himself.

Tell me I didn’t just do that. Tell me I didn’t just have Clifford’s sister take me to release in her hand.

But he had, and in doing so, he’d let her slip under his guard. He’d let her know that he’d sent his leman away, that he hadn’t wanted another woman. Only her. And as with Pandora’s box, he feared what that knowledge now escaped would do to them both.

He looked up. She’d sat back from the tub a little and was still on her knees, eyeing him uncertainly.

He held her gaze unflinchingly and said, “I guess we’re even now.”

It took her a moment to realize what he meant. When she did, she flinched as if he’d slapped her. The look of hurt on her face was so acute, he had to turn away so that he wouldn’t give in to the urge to pull her into his arms.

Pretending he didn’t feel her eyes on him, he stood from the tub, strode over to his trunk, and proceeded to dry himself and don a fresh linen tunic and leather breeches with a cool efficiency he did not feel.

When he finished, he’d regained enough composure to face her. She’d moved back to sit on the edge of Seton’s bed but was still watching him.

“I didn’t deserve that,” she said quietly, the condemnation in her beautiful green eyes giving him no quarter. “If you want me to hate you and think you as cold and unfeeling as you seem, you are doing a fine job of it.”

For the first time in his life, Robbie felt like squirming. She was right. She hadn’t deserved that. He dragged his fingers through his damp hair in frustration. Finally, he straightened and met her gaze head on. “It would be better for us both if you did.”

She gaped at him incredulously. “You are serious? You think I will be better off if you say mean things so that I will hate you? That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Of all the misguided…” Her eyes flashed angrily, as she blinked up at him. “You arrogant beast! Do you do this with all your women so they won’t fall in love with you, or am I the only one who needs such protection from your overpowering charms? Well, you needn’t try to protect me from myself. I am quite capable of disliking you all on my own.”