The Viper (Highland Guard #4)(91)

He couldn’t breathe through the tightness in his lungs. She was so beautiful and defiant. Daring him to treat her like this. Daring him to deny her.

Bella watched him struggle, knowing he was scared. Knowing that he was battling himself, not her, and fighting what she offered with everything he had. He lashed back the way he always did, finding the weakness and going in for the kill.

Did he honestly think he could get to her like this? She’d been played by the master of cruelty and domination and endured far worse than Lachlan could ever manage.

She hated that he used the pain of her past against her. But even more, she hated that he was taking what they had and trying to turn it into something base and meaningless.

But it wasn’t. He was trying so hard to be harsh and crude, but the very next minute his tender touch would soothe the sting of his words. He cared. She was sure of it. The way he looked into her eyes, the way he touched her, left her no doubt. What they had was different. She just needed to make him see it.

“Well,” she asked softly. “Is this not what you wanted?”

Bella wanted him to tell her no. She wanted him to see that he didn’t need to do this. She wanted him to pull her into his arms. To slide her down gently on the plaid and kiss her until this was all forgotten. To make love to her with all the passion and emotion she sensed burning inside him.

To admit there was more to them than this.

But he clenched his jaw, banished his indecision, and moved behind her. He was on his knees, his braies sliding down around them, as he gripped her hips and positioned himself between her legs.

But he didn’t enter her.

Her body twitched nervously. She’d assumed this position many times before and had always found it particularly unpleasant—degrading and base.

But it wasn’t, she realized. Not with Lachlan. She trusted him. He wouldn’t hurt her.

He splayed his hands on her backside, moving them possessively over her bu**ocks. “You are so beautiful,” he said hoarsely.

She felt strangely restless—as though she needed to move. His heavy erection pressed intimately against her, but all he did was touch her. And did he touch her! His hands caressed every inch of her. Sliding over her bottom, along her hips, and up to softly cup her br**sts. When one big, battle-worn hand dipped between her legs she gasped.

He tucked her firmly against him, holding her close and cradling her bottom against his groin. The thick, hot column of flesh wedged against her. She could feel the light dusting of hair on his hard, muscular thighs against the back of hers. One hand plied her breast as the other slipped between her legs.

“Tell me if you don’t want this,” he whispered tightly in her ear.

He was giving her the choice. Her heart leapt. It was what she’d been waiting for. He wanted to bully and dominate, to turn this into something base and meaningless, but he couldn’t.

He did care.

A rush of heat and dampness had gathered between her legs. His erection pressed more insistently against her backside. Nudging her. Giving her a heady taste of what was to come. In answer she pressed back against him, arching her back to the right angle to accommodate him.

Heat washed over her. She shouldn’t be feeling this way. Eager. Aroused. Wickedly naughty. The thick head teased at her opening.

Aye, she wanted this. More than she’d ever imagined.

He made a harsh sound behind her, pinching her nipple with one hand as the other delved skillfully between her legs. He was opening her wider, using her dampness to ready her for him.

“Tell me,” he demanded. “Do you want me inside you?”

She started to pant, writhe, pressing harder and more insistently against the tip of hard flesh poised achingly against her. He was so close, teasing her with his size.

His fingers stroked her harder, faster, deeper, bringing her to the edge …

“Yes. Please,” she cried helplessly, knowing what she sought was close.

He swore, ramming into her in one hard thrust, filling her completely, and sending her careening into the mindless oblivion of pleasure.

She cried out, her body shuddering around him as he pumped into her at just the right speed, drawing it out. Slow and deep, long and tender.

“That’s it, love, come for me. God, you feel so good.”

Love. Her heart clung to that single word. Happiness bloomed inside her like a flower opening in the first rays of spring. New. Fresh. Beautiful.

He was holding her so close. Cradling her body to his. This was nothing like the animalistic mating she’d experienced before. She felt safe, cherished, protected.

Just when she thought it was over, he sent her over again. He sank into her fully, pulling her hard against him so it seemed as if he were touching the deepest part of her. He held her there, cradled against him, filling her from behind and grinding against her, as his fingers stroked her mercilessly from the front.

It was amazing. Beautiful. Tender in a way she’d never imagined.

She cried out, clenching, spasming, shattering, until he’d wrested every last bit of pleasure from her that he could. Or so she thought.

Lachlan couldn’t stand it. The burning in his chest intensified. Hearing her cries of pleasure—knowing that he was the one responsible—and not being able to see her face was killing him.

Before he realized what he was doing, he’d turned her over, laid her down gently on the plaid, and surged into her again. This time, holding her tightly under him.