The Viper (Highland Guard #4)(105)

“You humble me.” His voice was gruff with emotion.

“And you me,” she said, tears of happiness in her throat. She couldn’t believe this was really happening. That something so wonderful was happening to her. Part of her feared that at any moment, someone would wake her up and tell her that it was all a dream.

His mouth fell on hers again, and she could feel the force of his emotion running through her.

It was all the reassurance she needed. She slid her hand around his head, running her fingers through his hair—which was far too soft and silky for a fierce warrior—to bring her mouth more fully against his.

She opened it, taking in the long, heartfelt strokes of his tongue. A delicious warmth spread through her. She’d never felt so safe. So secure.

So loved.

For a man who’d never done this before, he was doing an awfully good job of it.

He took his time. Teasing her. Tasting her. Stoking her passion one spark at a time. A stroke of his tongue. A touch of his hand. A soft groan of pleasure whispered in her ear.

Slowly, he eased her down on the ground under him, using the plaid she had wrapped around her shoulders as a blanket.

He lifted his head. “Are you cold? I gathered wood for a fire. It won’t take me a minute—”

“I don’t need a fire.” She slid her hand under his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin radiate under her palms. He was hot enough for them both. She skimmed her hand over the rigid bands of his stomach. He sucked in his breath as the muscles clenched in response. “You’ll keep me warm.”

“I don’t want anything between us,” he warned.

His words only flooded her with more warmth as a flush of anticipation spread over her. Naked. Flesh to flesh. Skin to skin.

She nodded.

He began to remove his clothes. She felt she should look away. Surely it wasn’t maidenly to be so interested. But she wasn’t a maiden—and hadn’t been in a long time. So she looked her fill. Holding her breath as piece by piece, his magnificent body was revealed to her bold gaze. Boots, weapons, plaid, leather cotun, chausses, and shirt were shucked off in a pile beside him. Then his hands moved to his waist. Her mouth went dry as he quickly worked the ties of his braies, releasing the hard column of his manhood. It was dark in the fort, but not too dark to see the massive size of him, and to remember how it had felt to take him in her mouth.

She swallowed, slowly.

“Keep looking at me like that, lass, and this isn’t going to last very long.” He slid out of his braies, tossing them in the pile with the rest.

Naked, aroused, every inch of his densely muscled physique bared to her view, he was magnificent. She told him so.

In response, he kissed her. She could feel his fingers working the ties of her shirt and breeches—she’d donned her lad’s clothes again to travel—and feel his hands skim over her body as he helped her out of her clothes, but his mouth and tongue kept her so busy it wasn’t until he broke the kiss that she realized she was naked. “It’s you who are magnificent,” he said, his voice filled with awe as his gaze skimmed over every inch of her naked flesh.

She blushed, feeling strangely shy. She’d been naked in front of him before, but this felt different. For the first time, a man’s admiration of her body didn’t bother her. Never had a man looked at her with such reverence—as if she were the most precious, beautiful woman in the world.

He reached out and gently cupped one of her br**sts with his hands, running his thumb over the tight nub of her nipple. “I want to taste you, Bella.”

She shivered at the husky promise of his words.

He leaned down, placing a tender kiss on the tip of her breast. She moaned, half-pleasure and half-protest at the all-too-fleeting touch.

He skimmed his finger over the heavy curve of her breast and down the flat of her stomach, his eyes feasting along the way.

He kissed her br**sts again. Circling the nipple with long, lazy strokes of his tongue, while his hands continued to wreak havoc with her senses, sliding, teasing, trailing a feathery path along her stomach, hips, and thighs, until they finally dipped between her legs.

He released her nipple, looking into her eyes as he brushed his finger over her dampness. She shuddered, then squirmed as her body flooded with warmth. “Are you wet for me?”

She moaned, lifting her hips against his hand, silently begging for him to touch her and find out. But still he swept over her. His mouth slid down her stomach, pressing tiny kisses along the trail forged by his hands.

“I want to taste you right here.” He pressed her intimately with his fingers.

Oh God. Her breath quickened in anticipation as she realized what he was going to do. What he’d threatened so coarsely to do before.

Should she stop him? Surely she should stop him. But her body was quivering, throbbing with need. And her hips—her hips couldn’t seem to stay still.

“Do you trust me?”

His voice was husky with promise, a dark temptation too powerful to be resisted.

She could only nod. Words would not form. Anticipation beat in her like a drum.

He settled his dark head between her thighs, cupping her bottom to lift her hips toward his mouth, holding her gaze the entire time.

Oh God.

There would be no shying from this intimacy. But the wickedness, the wantonness, the naughtiness only served to deepen her arousal.