The Saint (Highland Guard #5)(84)

The stoking between her legs intensified, his finger plunging faster, harder, deeper. Oh God …

Pressure that she didn’t understand was building low in her belly. She clutched at his arms. At his shoulders. Feeling the hard, rigid muscles flare under her fingertips. Wanting to get closer. To rub herself against the hard wall of muscle.

She wanted skin. Wanted to feel his strength and heat under her palms.

She tugged the shirt from his chausses and slid her hands underneath the linen and leather of his cotun.

He hissed when her hands made contact with the smooth spans of hot skin.

She clutched him harder as her body started to climb.

He broke the kiss, his breath coming heavy in her ear. “I want to see you come, love.”

Love. He called her love.

Her heart burst with pleasure even as her hips started to circle, unconsciously seeking the pressure of his hand.

“That’s it,” he urged softly. “Does that feel good? I can feel you starting to shudder. God, you’re so sweet. Next time I’m going to taste you. I’m going to put my tongue right here.”

She was too far gone to be shocked. Instead, she shuddered with wicked anticipation.

He moved his finger to a place …

To a place that made her womb contract. She cried out, her fingers digging into the steely muscles of his back, as the pulsing spasms overtook her. As pleasure so intense washed over her in a shattering embrace.

“That’s it, love,” he whispered. “Come for me. God, you’re beautiful!”

Magnus couldn’t wait another minute. Seeing her come had pushed him past the point of all restraint.

He’d never felt so aroused in his life.

All he could think about was making her his. He was so hard, so throbbing, so close to exploding, he knew it was going to be quick.

He fumbled with the ties of his braies and pushed aside his chausses enough to release himself, the rush of cold air on the hot skin stretched painfully thin a welcome relief.

Helen was still weak from her release, her body lax against the rocks. But she roused when he flipped up her gown and she realized what he was doing.

Her eyes feasted on the part of him that he didn’t think could get any harder. But her curiosity proved him wrong. He gritted his teeth, and his stomach clenched as she reached out and touched him.

“You’re so …” She gazed up at him hesitantly, wrapping her fingers around him as he’d shown her earlier. “Big.”

And much to his pain, getting bigger by the moment.

“And so soft and hard at the same time.”

Jesus. Maybe talking hadn’t been such a great idea. But neither was looking. When he glanced down and saw those dainty, milky-white fingers wrapped around him, he almost came in her hand. He’d dreamed of his moment since he’d been a lad; he couldn’t believe it was actually happening.

He pulsed, and her eyes widened. “Am I doing that?”

Blood was pounding so hard through him, he couldn’t speak for a moment. His eyes blazed fiercely. “Aye.”

A dangerous little smile turned her mouth. It was the smile of a woman who’d just discovered a source of power.

“What did you mean by pump?”

The naughty little minx. He let out a deep groan when her hand moved up and down.

“Like this?” She dragged him hard from base to tip, her grip firm and tight.

He couldn’t even nod, it felt so good. Every muscle strained.

“I like touching you,” she whispered. “Feeling you beat in my hand.”

Talking definitely not a good idea. He clenched, trying to hold back the surge that threatened to break free. But a milky-white bead escaped. “Tell me what you want, Magnus.” She squeezed tighter, milking him harder.

He’d be angry at the little temptress for turning his words on him later, but right now it felt too good. He wanted to come. In her hand. In her mouth. But most of all deep inside her.

He clenched. Felt his stomach muscles tighten as pressure built and raced down to the base of his spine. As the throbbing intensified.

She stopped. “Tell me.”

“I want to—”

Suddenly he stilled. An icy shiver of awareness ran across the back of his neck. He’d heard something.

Helen’s hand dropped, sensing the change that had come over him. “What’s wrong?”

He was already shoving himself back in his clothes, which, as he’d been only moments from release, wasn’t easy. No doubt his bollocks were a bright shade of blue right now, but he pushed past the pain. The battle instinct had taken over. “Someone’s out there.”

Nineteen

He almost had her in the cave. A few more moments, a few more steps, and Donald would have had her in his hold.

But he couldn’t afford to make a mistake, not when he was this close to ridding Scotland of the false king. He was just waiting for the right opportunity.

Taking Helen would have been perfect. Not only would he be able to discover what she knew about Bruce’s army, it would also get MacKay away from the king.

But no matter how tempting, he couldn’t act precipitously. He couldn’t risk MacKay discovering him—or the killing team—before they were ready to attack. Like Bruce’s warriors, surprise was an important part of their strategy.

So he let her slip through his fingers. But God, he’d wanted her. Even though she’d rejected him. Perhaps more so. He liked a challenge. It made victory all the more rewarding. And he never doubted that he would defeat them both: the woman who’d rejected him and the man who’d made a fool of him on the battlefield.