The Recruit (Highland Guard #6)(36)

It was hot and hard, lust in its most raw and primal form. But it was also something more. Something deeper. Something that stirred him in the darkest reaches of his soul every time he looked into the fathomless blue of her eyes.

Beautiful.

He could feel it coming. Sensation was building to a frantic beat. His body clenched tighter in anticipation. He gritted his teeth against the urge to come, fighting for control.

He didn’t want to do this alone.

He had no reason to hold back. He’d made her come. He’d done his duty. Kept his side of the unspoken bargain in liaisons such as this. He’d give her pleasure and she’d give him pleasure in return.

But nothing about this felt like a duty. Nothing about this felt like his usual liaisons. Something about this felt important, and he knew it wasn’t going to feel right unless they came together.

He didn’t know why—hell, he didn’t even want to think about it—he just knew it was the way it was.

But God, he wanted to come. His arse clenched against the pull of sensation as her body gripped him, milking, fighting to hang on to each hard stroke.

He wasn’t going to have long to wait. Her breath was coming faster now. Harder and more insistent. She was undulating beneath him, arching her back and lifting her hips to meet the frantic rhythm of his thrusts. Her eyes were half-lidded, her lips parted, her head rolling back—

“Look at me,” he ordered, his voice tight with the pressure.

She didn’t want to look. He could see her reluctance as her eyes opened and moved slowly to his. A bolt of shock shot down his spine. Something passed between them. Something hot and intense. Something that sent them both over the edge.

She gasped.

His entire body clenched.

She let out a sharp cry of pleasure that tore through the last strands of his restraint. The pressure he’d been holding in check exploded in a blinding blaze of passion. He couldn’t have pulled out if he’d wanted. He drove hard and deep, as his body broke apart. As the most powerful release he’d ever found shuddered over him in wave after powerful wave.

Jesus.

It was the most intelligent thought he could muster. His mind was gone. All that was left was pleasure. The most incredible pleasure he’d ever experienced.

When the last spasms of release had ebbed from his body, he collapsed on top of her, every muscle, every ounce of his body spent. Even his bones felt like jelly.

After a minute, the heavy sounds of their breathing began to quiet. Realizing he was probably crushing her, he found the strength to roll to the side.

He couldn’t ever remembering feeling so weak. It was a damned good thing the contest wasn’t today. He’d barely be able to stand, let alone defeat whoever would stand against him tomorrow.

He didn’t know quite what to make of what had just happened. He was having a hard time ordering his thoughts. But the lass had surprised him. The sweetness of her passion went far beyond the sensual promise he’d noticed in the barn. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed a liaison more. Hell, he doubted he’d ever enjoyed a liaison more. He frowned, remembering another oddity. Even when he was a lad, he’d always withdrawn before spilling his seed. But he was too bloody sated and contented to give it more than a passing thought. All he knew was that the strange ennui that had been dogging him was apparently gone, and he wasn’t ready to let go of her. Not yet.

What had she done?

Mary’s heart pounded in her chest as she stared at the ceiling. It was made of stone. The small library had been built into the thick walls like the vaulted storerooms below.

But it was gray and colorless, with little to distract her, so her thoughts returned to what had happened. To the cataclysmic event that had devastated her just as harshly and ruthlessly as a raging wildfire, leaving only ashes in its wake. It had been amazing. Wonderful. More beautiful than anything she could have imagined. And that was the problem. How was she ever to put this behind her? How was she to go on with her life in England and forget about the passion she’d found in his arms?

How was she going to forget about him?

He wasn’t supposed to be like this. She’d wanted a too-handsome, too-arrogant man built for sin. She’d wanted lust, nothing more.

He rolled to his side, leaning up on one elbow to look at her. She felt his eyes rake her face and held her breath as his hand reached out and brushed aside a few strands of hair that she hadn’t even noticed were tangled in her lashes. The touch was so intimate—so sweet—her chest squeezed with longing.

His fingers lingered on the side of her face, turning her gaze to his. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, little one?”

The way he was looking at her made her chest ache. She stared up at him wordlessly, not knowing what to say. She felt exposed. Raw. Vulnerable. What had just happened had stripped the last years of hard-wrought independence from her as if it were no more substantial than a thin chemise, revealing the lonely, heartbroken girl underneath who’d so much wanted her husband to love her. And Kenneth Sutherland, the soon-to-be champion, the handsome knight, the hero with an adoring throng of admirers, was cut from the same cloth.

At least she thought he was. Had she been unfair? Was there perhaps more to him than she’d thought?

It surprised her how much she wanted to be wrong.

Her heart slammed against her ribs when he leaned down and kissed her. It was a soft, lazy kiss. A tender kiss. Everything she shouldn’t want, yet craved like a greedy child.