The Recruit (Highland Guard #6)(78)

More than enough for what he intended. His eyes fixed on the woman in his bed. He gave her a predatory smile. “If you don’t have any more directions, what’s say we begin?”

Mary knew she’d made a mistake. Somehow he’d guessed what she was about. Worse, he’d taken it as a challenge and turned it into some kind of contest.

Her heart pounded erratically as she heard his footsteps approach the bed. Unfortunately, it wasn’t nearly dark enough, and she could still see far too much of him.

He was incredible. Could a man so fiercely masculine be beautiful? If so, then he was. His body was like a statue. A massive, perfectly chiseled statue. It had been hard to know where to look, from his broad shoulders and thickly muscled arms, to his sculpted chest with band after band of ripped muscle, to his heavy, powerfully built thighs. And then there was that other part of him. The uniquely male part of him she shouldn’t notice but had looked at with far too much and very unmaidenly curiosity. The thick column of flesh with the plump hood that strained past his belly button. Hard and red, she’d ached to touch it. To feel him in her hands.

The bed shifted with his weight when he slid in next to her. For a moment, he simply lay beside her in the darkness. She was so highly aroused, so painfully aware of him, however, that it only increased her anxiousness.

Did he have to be so blasted hot? His body seemed to radiate heat, and her skin felt flushed and uncomfortable—as if it were too small for her body.

He’s naked.

Try not to think about it.

But she couldn’t help it. She kept thinking about how it would feel to have all that hot skin pressed against her.

He was torturing her. And he knew it.

“Still tired, Mary?”

The blighter. “A little,” she said stubbornly, as her body screamed for him to touch her. She squirmed.

“Bed not comfortable?” he asked innocently.

“The bed is fine,” she snapped.

“I just heard you moving around—”

“I wasn’t moving around!”

He rolled to his side and began his infernally slow game of tracing every inch of her with his finger, when she ached—yes, ached—to have the full pressure of his hands. She was more aroused than she’d ever been in her life.

“Any more instructions, Mary? Or are you going to let me proceed?”

Something about him brought out her fight. She wasn’t going to let him run over her. She lifted her chin. “Nothing that I can think of right now, but I will let you know if something comes up.”

“Something has come up, all right,” he mumbled irritably.

Mary smiled, glad to know she wasn’t the only one suffering. “What’s that?” she asked innocently.

His reply was a kiss. A very slow, very expert, very thorough kiss. A kiss that radiated down to her toes. A kiss that made her limbs heavy and her bones dissolve. A kiss that made her want with all her heart.

He was seducing her, and if Mary didn’t do something, she knew she’d be lost. She was halfway there already. She had to find a way to take control.

He was on his side, leaning half on her. She could feel the thick imprint of his manhood on her stomach. The image of him holding himself in his hand sprang to mind. The fact that it aligned with her previous thoughts of wanting to touch him made the possibility even more intriguing.

If he’d pleasured himself that way, would he like it if she did the same?

Testing her theory, she moved her hand from his arm to his chest, lightly trailing her fingers down the rigid bands of his stomach muscles.

She knew she was on to something when he stilled, pausing in his kiss, stomach muscles clenching. He hissed when the heel of her hand met the plump tip. “What are you doing?”

She wrapped her fingers around him, and he groaned, instinctively thrusting himself deeper in her hand. She wondered at the sensations. At the feel of him. His skin was so hot. A velvety-thin glove over steel.

“I should think that was obvious,” she said. “I want to touch you.” She looked up at him in the darkness, holding his gaze. Slowly, she began to move her hand the way he’d done. He groaned again, closing his eyes as if the pleasure was too much to take. “I hope that is all right?”

“Oh God,” he said, covering her hand with his, showing her how to find his rhythm. “God, that feels so good. I’ve dreamed of this.”

“You have?”

But he seemed incapable of speech. She watched the pleasure build inside him. Saw as his face drew clenched and tight as he strained against the release that she knew was only moments away. He was throbbing, beating under her hand.

His hand found the edge of her chemise and dipped underneath. His fingers brushed between her legs, and the wave of pleasure was so intense she almost forgot to keep moving her hand.

His fingers dipped inside. No teasing now. He stroked and thrust, readying her for him.

She heard his breath quicken. Felt his body clenching. When he pulled his hand from her, rolled over, and positioned himself between her legs, she knew she’d won.

Lust. She could feel it crackling in the air between them. He was out of his mind with lust for her, just as she was for him.

Check … mate.

Kenneth knew he should have stopped her, but the feel of her soft, small hand wrapped around him, stroking him, was more than he could resist.