The Raider (Highland Guard #8)(93)

And from the moment his mouth fell on hers, hungrily and with purpose, she knew there would be no turning back. The knowledge was a little overwhelming—frightening even. She was a virgin, and although she knew the basics (she’d seen more than one couple mating under a blanket in a crowded, dark Hall), she also knew there would be pain. But Robbie would have care for her innocence. She trusted him without reservation.

He would make it good for her. And she hoped she would make it good for him. She wanted desperately to please him.

But as she’d neglected to take advantage of the potential tutors she had at her disposal at camp, she had little knowledge of how to do so. All she had was instinct. She gave over to the desire, holding nothing back, and returned his kiss with all the passion he’d awakened inside of her.

She ran her palms over his arms and shoulders and down his back, the way she’d dreamed so many times of doing. He growled at her touch, the muscles flexing under her fingertips. His body was a thing of beauty. Sheer masculine perfection. Smooth skin pulled tight over rock-hard muscle, lean and chiseled. There was not an inch of extra flesh upon him, just slab after slab of perfectly delineated muscle. His arms were bulging with strength, his stomach flat, and his waist narrow. He was so hard. So solid. And so hot. His skin was practically burning under her fingertips. Fevered. And the fever infected them both with its scorching heat.

She sensed the change that came over him when he lifted her toward the bed. His kiss became rougher and more carnal, leaving her no doubt of his intentions.

His big hands covered her body, her br**sts. And then his mouth…his mouth was sucking, and she thought she’d died and gone to heaven. Tiny needles of pleasure shot to her toes and heat rushed between her legs. She felt the same hot restlessness she’d felt last time, right before he’d touched her with his fingers.

She desperately wanted him to do that again, so she arched against his mouth on her breast, lifting her hips with a gentle press.

He made some kind of tortured sound. It might have been an oath, but she was too lost in the haze of pleasure to notice.

Cool air washed over the skin of her legs as he tossed up her skirts. His mouth ravished her br**sts, the scratch of his beard burning—marking—a trail on her sensitive skin.

He lifted his head from her breast. When he sank his finger inside her, she cried out. The damp skin of her breast prickled in the cool air.

“God, you feel good.”

Her half-lidded eyes fluttered. But then he stroked her again, and any response she might have made was lost in the wave of sensation that crashed over her.

His voice was tight and strained. “Damn it,” he growled fiercely. “I can’t wait much longer.”

Neither could she. She arched into his hand with a cry as he stroked her again. And again.

Then suddenly his hand was gone and he was holding her by the hips. If she’d had any inkling of what he intended to do, she was sure she would have objected. She would have locked her thighs tightly together and refused the wicked kiss. She would have been properly shocked and traumatized for at least a full minute. At least.

Certainly longer than the two seconds of stunned stiffness she’d managed before dissolving like a complete and utter wanton against his mouth. His glorious mouth. There. Between her legs. Kissing her. With his warm, soft lips and his tongue. Yes, with his tongue. His incredible, talented tongue that made her arch and moan, and then shudder and cry out in pure sinful delight. It came over her in molten wave after molten wave, flooding her body with heat.

When it was over, she was a puddle of sensation, warm, soft, and ready. She opened her eyes as he moved himself into position over her. His handsome face was tight and drawn with something resembling pain. A thin sheen of sweat had gathered on his brow.

She looked down. Somehow he’d managed to loosen his chausses and braies, and his manhood bobbed hard between them. His very sizable manhood. Some of the flush from her cheeks paled.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said through clenched teeth.

She lifted her gaze back to his. “I know.”

The trust in her eyes nearly felled him. Robbie wanted to deserve that trust, but if the size of the erection pounding against his stomach was any indication, it was seriously misplaced. The way he felt right now—that his skin was two sizes too small and that his entire body was on the verge of exploding, that the only thing he’d wanted to do when she was shattering against his mouth was sink into her and join her, that she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his damned life—if he didn’t get inside her in about two seconds he was going to do something he’d never done before. Ever. Even when he’d been a lad.

“I’m not sure…” He couldn’t finish.

Her face grew serious. “No promises, Robbie—I know that.”

He frowned. “That’s not what I meant.” Whether this was a good idea no longer mattered. “It’s just that I want you too much, and it can be painful the first time for a lass.”

An adorable smile curved her mouth and the soft pink flush crawled back up her cheeks. She gave him a shy look from under her lashes that hit him somewhere in the vicinity of his ribs. Above his ribs, actually. And maybe a little to the left.

“Well, then perhaps we should get on with this and get to the second time.”

And then she did something that put an end to talking—and just about everything else as well.