“Like this?” she whispered, and pressed her mouth to his.
Male.
Her first impression was of his overwhelming masculinity, the musky scent of him and…
Heat. He was alive with heat.
Rough. A day’s growth of beard scraped the skin around her mouth.
Soft. His mouth was supple as she touched her lips to his.
She felt dizzy at her boldness. At the press of the table under her ribs as she stretched across a table. At the power of him, hard and holding back.Head spinning, she began to pull away.
He moved suddenly, curling a hand around the back of her neck and held her in position.
“No, lass. Like this.”
He shoved to his feet, lifting her with him until they stood on each side of the table. He leaned across the table, bringing her forward too, then he kissed her.
His kiss was entirely different from hers. Hers had been a brushing glance, a kiss of peace on the mouth rather than the cheek.
His was a sword stroke of passion and it cleaved her open.
The moment his lips touched hers, he began testing her. His mouth crossed hers sideways, head tipped to the side, which urged her to do the same. One kiss, two…then his tongue brushed the seam of her lips.
A blade of shock sliced through her. She gasped and he slid his tongue inside.
He stroked her, slippery and caressing, deepening the incursion as he went, his mouth slanting more forcefully, his tongue sinking in deeper.
A shower of heat sparked through her body. She opened her mouth wider and let him move in deeper, asking more of her with each lash of his tongue.
She responded. Her tongue slid out, touched his, then slipped inside his mouth.
He made a low sound, not a word, not a growl, but something in between. Still holding her with the hand curled at the nape of her neck, he shoved the table out of the way with his other hand, scattering the little wooden figurines as he pulled her body up against his.
He never stopped the kiss.
Her arms slid up his chest to his neck, and wrapped around his shoulders, hanging on.
She inhaled his musky, masculine scent, as he cupped her face with one hand, the other hanging low at his side. Then he skimmed that hand up her hip. Her head tipped back on a gasp of pleasure.
“Máel,” she whispered.
His hand tightened, guiding her closer until their bodies touched from belly to chest. The hard thrust of his arousal pushed against her stomach.
Wild heat pulsed inside her. She went up on her toes and met every demanding thrust of his tongue with one of her own, until their tongues were tangled, their mouths locked.
This kiss would last forever, and she wanted nothing more.
Then the moment broke.
A loud noise came from outside, and “care” came swooping back into her life like a carrion bird.
Chapter 13
Cassia jerked away from him, backing up, clutching the front of her gown.
He stood beside the overturned table, chess pieces scattered underfoot, his eyes tracking her, darkened by passion.