The Viper (Highland Guard #4)(90)

Her eyes widened when at last he was free. He felt himself growing even harder under her not-so-innocent stare.

Her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip. For a moment he thought she was going to put her mouth on him.

He gritted his teeth against the reflexive surge. Sweat gathered at his brow. The restraint was killing him. He wouldn’t show her what she did to him. Wouldn’t give her that kind of power over him. But he was fighting a war with himself that he couldn’t win, and they both knew it.

She proved it with what she did next, showing him exactly who was in charge. Taking his challenge and answering it with one of her own. She rested her hands on his shoulders. Shock sizzled through him. His heart hammered in his chest. “Shall I ride you, my lord?”

His heart slammed to a stop, every muscle tensed with anticipation. Then, without waiting for him to answer, she straddled him and slowly lowered herself on him.

Christ. He sucked in his breath, holding her gaze as inch by agonizing inch he penetrated deep into her warm and welcoming body. He could see the pleasure infuse her features, see how much she liked it, and hear the soft gasps of her breath as he filled her.

He put his hands on her hips, gently guiding her deeper.

Oh God, yes.

He forgot all about what he was trying to prove. She moaned, arching her back as he sank in as deep as he could go. He kissed her throat. Her br**sts. Circling her ni**les with his tongue before sucking them deep into his mouth.

It was hot. So incredibly hot.

She began to move. Riding him as she’d taunted. Lifting over him with slow, erotic little circles of her hips. Looking deep into his eyes the entire time.

It felt as if she were holding him by a string and cinching him closer and closer until the connection between them was so strong it seemed as if they were one.

He groaned, the sensations washing over him in a hot, drenching heat. The way she moved, the long, languid rhythm of her hips moving up and down, and the sultry heat in the stable combined in the most seductive, erotic dance of his life.

She started to go faster. Taking him in and out of her body at a wicked pace as her pleasure intensified, riding him with wild abandon. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

She held her hands on his shoulders, using them for leverage as she thrust him deep into her body. Her face was only a few inches from his. Her br**sts bounced against his chest. She held his gaze as she clenched around him, drawing him in with slow little pulls.

He’d wanted to show her that this was only lust; instead it had become the most incredible, intimate moment of his life.

He felt it again. That hard pull. That dragging under. That sensation of drowning in a whirlpool of something he didn’t understand.

He was falling. Lost in sensation and the promise in her eyes. He couldn’t seem to get close enough.

He slid his arm around her waist and kissed her fiercely, succumbing for a moment before suddenly jerking away.

Furious at himself, at her for doing this to him, he held her hips still. “Enough,” he growled harshly. This position was too intimate.

The sudden curtailment of pleasure brought a confused look to her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I want you on your knees so I can take you from behind.”

He hated himself even as he said it. He was skating too close to what had happened with her husband and knew it. The base demand. Treating her more like a whore than a woman to be cherished.

Her eyes widened, and the look on her face cut him to the quick.

He’d gone too far. He knew he’d gone to far.

She would never forgive him for this. Maybe it was what he wanted. It would be better this way. Acid ate in his chest, settling low in his belly. It felt so wrong, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

Tell me no. Slap me like I deserve.

“Well?” he threw down the gauntlet.

Part of him wanted her to put a stop to this. The other part feared she would.

“Am I supposed to run away now? Is this supposed to scare me off? You have no idea.” She shook her head. “Why are you doing this, Lachlan? Why are you acting so mean?”

“I am mean. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

She held his gaze. She looked at him with compassion and something else. Something that made his heart flip over in his chest. “Aye, I’ve figured it out.”

The understanding in her voice only made him angrier. “Do you want to f**k or not?” he snapped.

The vulgarity had no effect on her. She lifted her chin. “Is that what you want?”

He heard the challenge in her voice and knew what she was asking: Is that all you want? She wanted more from him. He gritted his teeth. “Aye.”

Neither one of them believed it.

She shook her head as if he were a child who’d disappointed her. And hell if he didn’t feel like it.

She lifted herself off him and stood. She was going to leave. He held his breath, a heartbeat away from stopping her. From calling her back. From drawing her against him and showing her all the gentleness and tenderness that she deserved. That he wanted to give her, damn it, but didn’t know how.

He should have known better. Bella MacDuff was a fighter.

Slowly, she lowered herself to the ground, spreading out the plaid near the fire. Then, holding his gaze the entire time, she positioned herself on her hands and knees. His heart stopped beating. Not from the mouthwatering display of her sleek backside—although it was spectacular—but from the trust shining in her eyes. Trust he didn’t want, damn it, and sure as hell didn’t deserve.