The Raider (Highland Guard #8)(98)

“Very well, but don’t take too long.”

His gaze met hers with a wicked gleam of his own. “Aye, well in that case I suspect you are going to be disappointed.”

He intended to punish her with the torture of anticipation.

Only when he saw the amusement twinkling in her eyes did he realize he’d been maneuvered. But by that point he was already circling one very pink and very tight nipple with his thumb, she was making those breathy little gasps, and he no longer gave a shite.

Rosalin was close. The feel of him big and deep inside her—filling her—as she rode him like a stallion was unlike anything she’d ever imagined. It was wild, freeing, and strangely empowering, knowing that she was in control of the powerful warrior beneath her.

He held her hips, guiding her as she rode the thick club of his erection up and down, taking him deep and hard, finding the perfect rhythm for her pleasure.

It had started out slow. Languorously slow as she wanted to savor every sensation, every thick inch of his body stretching and filling hers. But then it had quickened, until she was moving over him at a frenzied gallop.

When her pace reached the breaking point, she arched her back and cried out as her body started to fly. She was shaking and shattering, chanting his name in a soft whimper as the flood of heat rushed free.

She thought the sensation couldn’t get any sweeter, but she should have known better. The hands that were gripping her hips brought her down hard on top of him. He held her there, grinding her against him until she shattered again. It was deeper this time, and even more powerful. “Yes, oh God, yes, Robbie…!” She was mindless with passion, consumed by the pleasure overtaking her.

He was, too. She could feel him straining beneath her, the big body fighting for control. “That’s it, mo ghrá. Christ, I can feel you squeezing me—”

He stopped, tensing right before he let out a roar and his pleasure shot deep inside her in hot, pulsing spasms.

She collapsed on top of his naked, hot, and slightly damp chest into a boneless, syrupy heap. She couldn’t have found the strength to move even if Hannibal himself were knocking at the gate. She smiled, thinking that Robbie would appreciate her analogy.

She lay there in complete and utter contentment, savoring the simple pleasure of the heavy rise and fall of his chest under her cheek.

The past two days had been some of the happiest in her life, but this was her favorite of all. This was what she would remember forever. Being curled up on top of him, every inch of her body weary and sated from his lovemaking, his steely arm wrapped around her as if he would never let her go, with the heavy beat of his heart reverberating like a drum through her. She felt utterly connected and utterly contented.

“Well?” The deep, powerful voice held a note of expectation, and something else that she treasured for the gift it was: teasing.

She schooled her features into blank repose and managed to find the strength to tilt her face to meet his gaze. “I stand corrected. It was possible.” When he’d rolled her into his lap and told her what she could do, she hadn’t been so sure.

“And?”

She nodded, seeming to consider. “Yes, definitely an improvement.”

He cocked a brow, challenging her assessment. Her stomach flipped. God, he was handsome. He looked every inch the brigand with his bed-rumpled hair, piercing blue eyes, dark stubble, and bruised right cheek, sustained in some kind of skirmish when he’d been riding out yesterday. There was a small cut, too, and she suspected he’d taken a blow to his still injured ribs as well, but he’d refused to let her “fuss” over him. Stubborn brute.

He told her little of what he’d done the past two days they had been at the castle. He rode out every day, she assumed to scout and do whatever it was he did to enforce the king’s authority in the Borders. In the afternoons, he and his men practiced in the yard. Only at night did he come to her.

She feigned ambivalence. “How many times is that now? Three? Four?” Five.

His eyes narrowed, but she saw the glint of amusement. “I guess it depends on how you want to look at it. By my last count, eight.”

Rosalin couldn’t prevent the heat from rushing to her cheeks. The rogue! He was counting how many times he’d made her shatter!

She harrumphed and pursed her mouth primly. “Ah yes, well, maybe by the time you get to ten it will be, what did you call it…enjoyable?”

“Spectacular, brat.” He gave her a playful swat on her backside. “You do wonders for a man’s confidence.”

Her mouth twisted to hold back a smile. “I wasn’t aware you needed an improvement in that area. From what I can see from the window when you are practicing, you have plenty of confidence boosting going on out there.”

He frowned until he realized to what she was referring, and then a broad smile curved his mouth.

The boyish grin slammed right into her heart. If she ever needed proof of how much he needed her, it was right there. For a moment, she could almost see what he might have been like had war not stolen everything away from him. Happy, relaxed, teasing.

“You’re jealous,” he said, looking much too pleased with himself.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

She tried to toss her nose up in the air but he caught her chin. The amusement was gone from his expression. “You have no reason to be, Rosalin.”