Tamed By The Highlander (Kilts & Kisses 1)

It is a book—one gorgeously inlaid with gold leaf across its deep red cover, with lettering in French.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper breathlessly. And it is. I have books, but nothing in my collection looks even as close to as sumptuous and royal as this one. With the red and the gold, and the French, it’s almost seductive.

“Thank you,” I murmur, dragging my eyes from the gorgeous book up to the gorgeous man standing in front of me. He smiles, dropping down on his haunches and leaning in to kiss me.

“Read it,” he purrs.

“Now?”

“Yes, now.”

My lip twists in my teeth. “You really want to watch your bride rea—”

“Very much so,” he growls, his eyes fierce. “I always want to watch my bride read.”

Something wicked crosses his face.

“Especially this book.”

My brow furrows, a smile teasing my lips as I try and figure out the look on his face. My eyes drop to the book, and this time, I actually read the French. And when I do, heat blushes through my cheeks.

“The Forbidden Desire.”

I say the words out loud, feeling the flickering heat tease through me as I do. I look up at Hamish quizzically.

“What sort of book is this?”

He grins. “Read it, my little queen.”

I chew on my lip, shivering under his heated gaze before I nod.

“Okay.”

I start to open the book, sitting there on the edge of the bed, when Hamish chuckles.

“Come, get comfortable.”

He slides past me onto the bed, reclining back into the sumptuous pillows at the head. I can’t help it, my eyes just drink him in, heat rippling through me as I turn and crawl back after him. I stretch out on my tummy, feet up in the air as I eye him before opening the book in front of me.

“Shall I read it in French or translate?”

Hamish smiles wickedly, his eyes dancing over me.

“You choose. I just want to listen to you read, my love.”

“But wouldn’t you prefer the translation so you can under—”

“Qu’est-ce qui te fait croire que je ne parle pas français?”

My jaw drops.

What makes you believe I don’t speak French.

“You—”

I blush fiercely as he grins at me.

“We fought alongside the French in Jerusalem.”.

“You were just waiting to let me walk into that, weren’t you?”

He chuckles, grinning at me before he leans in, kissing me softly before pulling away and leaning back into the bed.

God, what dream is this?

I open the book, I look down, and I start to read, in French. And instantly, barely two sentences in, my jaw drops.

“This is…”

“Romantic?” He growls.

I blush. “It’s slightly more than romantic, Hamish.”

He chuckles, and I’m willing to bet he knew that long before I opened the book.

“Keep reading, love,” he murmurs.

He slides down so that he’s lying next to me on the bed on his side, his hand dropping to the small of my back. I sigh, melting into the bed as I feel his powerful hand rub slow, sensual circles on my lower back, fingers brushing against the top of my ass. My breath catches, and I start to read.

Romantic? Oh, it’s romantic. But I barely have to read more than the first page before I know what sort of book it is.

…It’s a dirty book.

My face flushes as the realization hits me. I’ve heard of books like this—some written on commission for royalty in England or France, and some just written for fun by scandalously filthy-minded monks. I’ve read romances, but this?

Oh, this is something else.

The words get dirtier, to the point where I’m stammering my way through very, very graphic scenes. And before, I think this would have been over my threshold. Before, I may have hid my face and gone running from the room. But after him? After giving myself to this gorgeous, dominant and yet tender man who’s made me his wife?

No, I just feel heat as I read it. Illicit, forbidden heat, like the kind that blooms wetly between my thighs, or sends teasing sparks over my skin until my nipples ache against the bed sheets.

“Hamish,” I breathe, pausing after a particularly graphic description. “This is…”

“Erotic,” he growls. I moves, sliding lower down the bed, and when I feel him move behind me, I shiver, gasping quietly.

“Keep reading, love.”

I start to continue, and when I feel his fingers teasing up the backs of my thighs, I whimper and stumble over the words, but I keep reading. And the words are filthy. The book is an erotic text about a girl being married off to a much older count, and it barely takes two sentences in before it starts to get scandalously dirty, as it opens with a scene that takes place directly after their wedding.

But I just keep reading, the fire inside of me blazing as Hamish’s fingers tease between my legs. I spread them for him, shivering at his growl of approval. And when his fingertips brush over the swollen, eager lips of my pussy, I moan quietly.