The Recruit (Highland Guard #6)(35)

That he understood. What he didn’t understand was the rest. The fierce, primal wave of possessiveness that made every instinct in his body scream “mine,” followed by the strange feeling of rightness, and an equally fierce wave of protectiveness.

He’d promised her he’d be gentle, and he wanted to be. He wanted to make it good for her.

He’d watched her face as he entered her, saw her cheeks flush, heard the sharp intake of breath as he forged deeper and deeper, filling her.

And when it had happened, when they’d been joined completely …

A fierce wave of emotion had reached up and grabbed him by the throat. He’d never felt lust like that before. Lust that settled in his chest and squeezed.

He should be going fast. The king was waiting for him. But it felt so damned good, he didn’t want it to end. Buried deep inside her, the tight, wet fist of her body gripping him, he thought he just might be content to stay here forever.

He took it slow. Dragging out every last inch of his thrusts, sliding nearly all the way out before sinking into her again. But still it wasn’t deep enough. Wasn’t close enough.

It was bloody strange. He couldn’t seem to stop looking at her. Hell, he couldn’t ever recall holding a woman’s gaze for so long. But with her hair tumbling around her face, her cheeks pink, her lips swollen, her eyes hazy with passion, he couldn’t look away. The lass had come alive in his arms.

Christ, he realized. She’s beautiful.

He seemed to stop breathing. Something hot and tight was lodged in his chest. It made him want to hold her gaze. To cup her cheek in his hand and bring his lips to hers in a soft kiss.

The oddity of his reaction made her request all the more jarring.

He stilled. “What?”

She dropped her gaze from his, biting her lip. A blush rose to her cheeks. “I-I …” She stammered, peeking up at him from under her lashes. “I was just remembering, and thought it would be nice …”

She couldn’t seem to finish.

“You thought it would be nice if I took off my tunic?” he said blandly.

She nodded, clearly mortified. “Aye.”

There was no reason he should be bothered by the request. Perhaps he should even be pleased. Obviously, she’d admired what she’d seen in the barn and wanted to see it again. A woman admiring his body was nothing new. Hell, he wanted her admiration. But something about the request made him feel like a stallion at market, and given his oddly tender feelings of a few moments ago, it stung.

Bloody hell, what was wrong with him? He sounded like a woman, overly sensitive and overanalyzing every little nuance. Why should he care if she wanted to admire his body? Hadn’t he told her the same thing? He wanted to see her naked, and if it wasn’t for the difficulty in redressing her, he would have torn that bloody gown right off her shoulders.

A tunic, however, was easy enough to put back on. And it would be nice to have her hands on him.

With that thought in his mind, he grabbed the hem off his tunic that was already bunched at his waist and jerked it over his head, tossing it to the side. “As you wish, my lady,” he said with a cocky grin.

She gasped, her eyes wide with concern. “You’re hurt!” She reached out as if to touch him, but then pulled back as if she were afraid to cause him pain.

He glanced down at the mottled skin, having forgotten about his injury. The pleasure she was giving him was far better medicine than the vile-tasting brew his sister had made him consume, or the long drink of whisky he’d had a few moments ago.

“It’s nothing.”

She started to argue, but he forced her mind back on what was happening with a little push.

She startled, unthinkingly grabbing for him. Which was exactly what he’d intended. The warm softness of her palms on his skin sent a fresh wave of heat pulsing to his groin. Very nice.

He thrust again. Harder this time. And deeper.

She gripped him harder, her tiny fingers digging into the muscles flaring off the back of his arms.

Aye, that was good. He held himself there, strangely content to just savor the moment of connection. “Any more requests, my lady?” he said huskily, teasingly.

She lifted her gaze from his chest long enough to look into his eyes. He’d meant it as a joke, but she looked oddly serious—worried even. “Faster, please. Just make it faster.”

He frowned. Obviously, the lady wasn’t as content as he was to make it last. He felt a flicker of temper.

His jaw clenched, tightening his mouth. Well, never let it be said he didn’t give the ladies what they wanted.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he instructed. Giving her a long, hot look, he added, “And hold on tight.”

She was in for the ride of her life.

He surged inside her, and she cried out at the possessive force of it. Her eyes shot to his. “Like that, do you?” he taunted.

She nodded dazedly.

A surge of satisfaction shot through his veins. Holding her gaze, he surged again. Over and over. Faster and faster. Giving her exactly what she wanted, the soft echoes of her gasps egging him on.

He groaned as the familiar pressure started to build in his loins and gather at the back of his spine.

Damn, it felt good.

He could feel her heels digging into his bu**ocks, her hands sliding from his arms to roam wildly over his hot, slickening back. He was working hard and his body was beginning to show it. His muscles were straining, his arms were sore from propping himself up, and his breath was coming fast from the exertion of thrusting and pounding.