The Saint (Highland Guard #5)(62)

Liked that, did she?

For a moment, he fought the urge to flip the little wanton around and cover that gasp with his mouth. But he shied from the intimacy. He didn’t want to kiss her, he wanted to swive her. So badly that he didn’t know how much longer he could wait.

Helen was awash in sensation. The shock she’d felt when his big, callused hand had made contact with her naked breast had turned to wonder as he began to caress her, and then to urgent moans as his stroking intensified.

Her br**sts felt so heavy in his hands. Her ni**les were so hard and tight they throbbed. And when he began to pinch them between his fingers, tiny needles of pleasure shot through her straight to her toes.

She felt so strange. So hot and restless. She’d never imagined this kind of passion from him. There was nothing chaste and reverent about his touch. He wanted her, and he was showing her exactly how much.

“God, it’s been so long,” he groaned, his breath coming hard and fast in her ear.

How long? she wanted to ask, but dared not speak for fear he would realize it was her and stop. She didn’t want him to stop. Her body was clamoring for something she didn’t understand. She was hot everywhere he touched her and needy everywhere he hadn’t.

“I can’t wait much longer, I need to be inside you. I hope you like it from behind.” He moved against her again, slower and more sensually—like his voice—showing her what he meant. The sheer naughtiness of it sent a wicked thrill running through her.

Why has he never talked to me like this? It was a side of him she’d never seen before. A little base. A little crude. And more than a little exciting. A passionate, fiercely carnal side that he’d kept hidden from her. It sent a flood of desire pooling between her legs. Damp. Warm. Needy. But it was nothing compared to what happened when his hand covered that warm and achy place. He gripped her firmly, holding her to him.

“Do you?” he teased with that smooth, velvety voice, rocking against her in silent question.

Helen couldn’t seem to breathe. Glad that he couldn’t see her shocked, wide eyes, she nodded furiously, not really knowing what she was agreeing to except that she wanted whatever he wanted to do to her.

“Naughty lass.” He chuckled and flipped her skirts up. A blast of cool air swept over her backside. He paused to give her bottom a swift caress before his hand slipped around the front of her thigh to reach between her legs.

Oh God …

Her heart jumped; her knees buckled at the contact. She hadn’t known what she wanted until he touched her. Until she felt the pressure of his hand on her mound. Until she felt his big, strong finger delve inside her. Stroking, plunging in and out, making the pool of desire low in her belly start to tighten and coil. And pulse. Frantically. She pushed back against his hand, wanting him to go faster. Deeper. Harder. She cried out, feeling the pleasure build.

It was everything she’d always dreamed of. And so much more.

“God, you’re so wet and tight. You’ve got me so hard, I feel like I’m going to explode. I can’t wait to come inside you, Joanna.”

Joanna.

Helen stilled, the sound of the other woman’s name in his voice a cold shock of reality. All this passion wasn’t for her, it was for Joanna. Suddenly, the fact that he thought he was doing this with someone else wasn’t enough. She needed him to know it was her.

“Magnus, I—”

The suddenness of his movement stopped her. His hand was gone and he pushed away from her as if she’d burned him.

Perhaps she had.

Jerking her away from the door, he swung it open. A beam of soft candlelight flooded the room.

He swore, the look of disgust on his face cutting her to the quick.

She staggered, her legs unsteady from the loss of his support and from the harshness of his expression.

“You!” The accusation of that one word pierced her heart.

Helen took a step toward him, her body still pulsing with desire. “Aye, me.” She reached out to put her hand on his arm, but he flinched from her touch.

“Don’t,” he bit out through clenched teeth.

“Why not? I want to touch you. A moment ago you said you couldn’t wait—”

He grabbed her arm and hauled her up against him, his cheeks stained red. “I know what I said, damn it. I know exactly what I said. But that wasn’t meant for you. None of it was meant for you!”

Helen flinched at the brutal cruelty. Heat tightened her throat. But she refused to let his words hurt her. “But it was me. It is me you want.” She looked up into that handsome face fierce with anger and embarrassment, and dared him to deny her. “I can still feel your hands on my body. In my body,” she said softly. “I still ache for you.” She lowered her eyes, letting her gaze rest on the big bulge between his legs. “And I think you still ache for me.”

The drink had made her bold. Now was not the time for maidenly reserve. Seize the day. Before he guessed what she meant to do, she reached down and covered him with her hand.

She’d never touched a man before and the feel of him beating beneath her palm, hard and thick, only heightened her curiosity. She knew what was supposed to happen, but he felt much too big to go inside her.

A sound almost like a hiss seeped out from between his tightly clenched lips. But it was the only crack in his otherwise implacable facade. If her touch affected him, he wasn’t going to do anything about it. His control angered her when her own body was still weeping for his touch.