The Recruit (Highland Guard #6)(101)

But perhaps “kiss” was far too ordinary a way to describe the perfection of his mouth moving over hers, of the gentle stroke of his tongue, of the aching tenderness of emotion he elicited with each deft caress. He didn’t just kiss, he devastated.

It was incredible. The warm, soft heat of his mouth on hers. The dark, spicy taste of him. The smooth stroke of his tongue, delving … coaxing … entreating.

There had never been any doubt of her husband’s expertise in matters of lovemaking. He knew just what to do to make a woman weak with pleasure. The skilled movements of his lips and tongue could rouse her passion in an instant.

But this was different. This wasn’t just about passion. The soft caress of his mouth over hers, the heart-tugging strokes of his tongue, were gentle and sweet, tender and inquisitive. Not a plunder but a promise. A bond. A vow.

This wasn’t just a kiss intended to make her body hot and needy; he seduced her heart and soul as well. It was everything she’d fought against. Everything she’d struggled to deny but had been between them from the first. Not just passion but emotion. A deeper connection. A joining not just of bodies but of souls. Finally, she let herself accept all the tenderness he’d been trying to give her that she’d tried for so long not to want.

It was hard to believe the same man who’d fought so brutally hours before, who’d seemed hard, unyielding, and merciless, whose big, muscled body could be used as such a deadly weapon could be touching her so gently. Nor could she have imagined that the cocky, arrogant warrior she’d first seen in the barn, who’d exuded passion and virility, would be capable of such tender emotions.

Cradled against the big shield of his chest, Mary felt as if she were the most precious woman in the world. She felt cherished and protected. And most of all, she felt loved.

It was so heartwrenchingly perfect, so achingly poignant, it almost hurt—which it did, when he stopped. He lifted his head, and she cried out in protest at the loss.

He smiled, gazing down at her as he held her tightly in his arms. The warmth of his body around her was something she would never get used to. It made her feel as if nothing in the world could hurt her.

“You know what this means, don’t you?”

Seeing the challenging glint in his eye, she hesitated to ask. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

“No more chemises, Mary. No more hiding. I intend to see every gorgeous, naked inch of you.”

Heat rose to her cheeks, but she didn’t argue. He was right. She didn’t want anything between them, even embarrassment.

He grinned at her silent acquiescence, and in a smooth motion, swept her up into his arms. Looping her hands around his neck, she buried her face in the fuzzy warmth of the plaid he wore around his shoulders as he carried her to the bed. Depositing her atop the covers, he proceeded to remove his clothing.

It was clear the man didn’t have a lick of shame. Nor should he, she was forced to admit. His body was incredible—as he very well knew. And after nearly two months of sharing a room, he also knew exactly how much she admired it.

He removed the arsenal of weapons he wore strapped to various parts of his body. Then, piece by piece, he tossed his clothing on one of the chairs before the fire. Plaid. Cotun. Chausses. Boots. Shirt. And then finally, his braies.

He stood proudly before her in all his masculine glory. And sweet heaven, his body was glorious. She drew in her breath as a warm, melting heat spread over her skin. Not even the cocky grin on his face could make her turn away. The man was arrogant beyond belief. She should knock him down a few pegs, but she feared it was impossible. When it came to his body there was nothing to fault. Unless you didn’t like lots—and lots—of perfectly defined, granite-hard muscle. Shallow female that she was, she, unfortunately, did.

His body was a sharply honed weapon of war, every bit as hard and impenetrable as the armor he wore. From the breadth of his shoulders, to the thick, powerfully built arms, to the narrow, lean planes of his waist, to the bands of muscle crossing his stomach, it was hard to know where to look. Of course, there was also that other part of him that drew the eye, demanding attention. The long, thick column of flesh that bobbed against his stomach, hard proof of just how much he wanted her.

“See something you might be interested in?”

She shot him a glare. “Would you believe me, if I told you no?”

He laughed. “With the way you are looking at me, I don’t think so.” He dropped down on the bed beside her and lay back, crossing his arms behind his head. “Your turn.”

She balked. “I hope you don’t expect a performance like the one you just gave.”

“Not tonight.”

A big, strapping warrior shouldn’t look so mischievous.

She slid her hand over the hard ridges of his stomach, letting her wrist brush over the heavy head of his erection. “Are you sure you can wait? You appear to be ready right now.”

He groaned into her hand as she circled him, letting her draw it up and down a few times before catching her wrist to stop her. “I won’t let you distract me, Mary. I’ve been waiting too long for this. Take it off—all of it.”

She bit her lip, her heart fluttering nervously. “Perhaps we could blow out a few of the candles?”

“Not a chance.”

She frowned. “I can see you are going to be difficult about this.”