The Ranger (Highland Guard #3)(68)

He devoured her with his mouth and tongue. She moaned, sinking deeper into the kiss, wanting to feel every inch of his body against hers.

His big hands slid possessively over her, down her back, over her hips, slipping down to cup her bottom. He groaned in her mouth, kissing her deeper and harder as he molded her more firmly against him.

Sensation exploded inside her in a shimmering wave of heat.

Oh God, it was perfect! Chest to chest. Hip to hip. The hard evidence of his desire wedged intimately between her legs. She knew she should be shocked by the size and feel of him, but all she felt was excitement. Excitement that made her heart race, her skin flush, and her body tingle.

They were plastered together, but it wasn’t close enough. Restlessness built inside her with each delicious stroke of his tongue and each possessive caress of his hands.

She matched his boldness with her own. Her hands gripping the hard muscles of his arms, his shoulders, his back. She wanted to feel every inch of him under her fingertips, to sculpt every muscle with her palms. To hold his strength under her hands.

It made her feel ... wild—heady with desire.

She’d never experienced anything like this. Her body had seemed to come alive. Her responses came naturally, as if she knew what she was doing. It was happening too fast to think. Desire had grabbed hold and would not let go.

He was pressing against her more insistently, rubbing his manhood against the most feminine part of her. It made her feel strange and tingly—warm and achy. But it wasn’t enough. She circled her hips harder against the thick column of flesh, craving the friction. Craving a deeper connection.

His mouth dipped down her throat, kissing, devouring. The scruff of his beard singeing a path across her flaming skin. The small room blazed hot and sultry with passion.

His hands slid around her waist, moving up to cup her br**sts. She gasped, pressing harder and harder against his manhood as her back arched into his hands. He muttered something that sounded like a curse and rubbed his thumbs over her turgid, aching ni**les, as his mouth feasted on the tender skin just above the edge of her bodice.

She felt so hot. So weak. Languid and heavy. Her legs seemed to have lost the strength to hold her up. She collapsed against him, and he pushed her back on the table to steady her—and maybe himself as well. The fiercely controlled knight seemed just as wild and frantic in his need as she.

His dark, silky hair spilled against her chest. Unable to resist, she threaded her fingers through the soft waves, gently pressing him harder against her. She could feel his mouth on her nipple through the fabric of her gown as his hands cupped and squeezed.

Not enough ...

Seeming to sense her frustration, his tongue darted below her bodice.

She cried out at the wickedness, at the exquisite pleasure that rocked her. His mouth was so warm. His tongue circled and circled until she didn’t think she could stand any more. She was writhing against him, begging him to unleash the strange maelstrom building inside.

Finally, he pushed aside her gown—stretching the fabric to the ripping point—to release her breast. The cool air blew over her skin, prickling where he’d kissed her.

“Christ,” he groaned, sounding as if he were in pain. “You’re so damned beautiful.”

The sound of his voice might have broken through her trance, but before she could hold on to the moment of clarity, he covered her aching nipple with his mouth and sucked.

The sweet needle of sensation made her cry out.

Pleasure so acute it was nearly pain. He plied her with his teeth, flicked her with his tongue, and sucked her deeper and deeper into the warm suction of his mouth.

Heat spread between her legs in a rush of dampness. The tender flesh felt swollen and tingly.

The table was hard against her back. He’d wrapped her leg around his hip as he’d bent over her breast.

She could feel the pounding of his heart against hers. Feel his muscles straining with his desire for her. His weight covering her. She was hot. So incredibly hot. Aroused to the point of no return.

His hand slid under the edge of her gown, connecting with skin. He smothered her shock with a long drag of her nipple between his teeth.

Then his mouth was on hers again and his hands—dear Lord!—his hands were sliding between her thighs.

Embarrassed, she tried to close her legs. But he wouldn’t let her. His mouth distracted with long, languid strokes of his tongue, as his finger swept over her dampness.

Her body trembled at his touch. Her protests dissolved in a wave of shuddering relief. It felt so good. So amazingly good.

“Jesus, you’re so wet.”

He stopped kissing her and she wondered if she’d done something wrong, until she realized he was struggling, holding himself still as if fighting for control. As if touching her had taken his last bit of reserve. As if he was close to the breaking point.

His eyes met hers, holding her gaze as his finger slid inside her with a firm little push. It was the most wickedly erotic moment of her life.

She sucked in her breath, trying to still the sensations, but they were rushing by her so quickly in wave after quickening wave. He stroked her. First in soft little circles and then harder and faster in deep, frantic thrusts that mimicked the way he’d kissed her.

The sensations building inside her were too intense. Too powerful to contain. Tightening and coiling in a wicked whirlpool of need.

His face was a mask of pain. Sweat had gathered on his brow. His gaze held hers, dark and penetrating, holding her to him in a way that made her heart clench with happiness. In his eyes she read the truth—what she’d known all along. This connection between them was special. And he felt it, too.