Perfect Strangers (The Scots)

Connor laughed, deep and hard. He couldn't help it. The twinkle in her pretty green eyes was pure mischief, demanding a response, and that response was as strong as it was automatic. "Och, but yer Scots burr be a poor one, lass. 'Tis something you'll need to work on."

"Aye, m'lord, I will. You can give me lessons later if you'd like. For now, however..." Her gaze narrowed, raking his naked torso and the color in her cheeks intensified even as her voice deepened seductively. "For now I've no wish to stay you from granting a lady's request. Lest you forget, you've a reputation to maintain."

Connor brushed his lips lightly over hers and whispered huskily against them, "Are ye planning to pen a ballad aboot this, lass?"

"Only if it proves worthy of writing about, m'lord."

The invitation in her soft, sultry voice was too great to resist. Connor kissed her fully as he adjusted their position and reached down to free his kilt. The plaid fell, draping over his naked calves in dark folds.

He pulled her willing body close as he shoved the bulk of the plaid beneath them. It made an adequate barrier to protect bare skin from the sharp bite of pine needles and scratch of wet moss, grass, and leaves.

Gabrielle twisted to the side and wrapped her arms around Connor's neck, clinging to him. Her tongue slid moistly, restlessly, over his lower lip. Her teeth nibbled the tender flesh there. She squirmed, pressing her breasts more fully against him, and inhaled sharply when she felt her nipples pucker and tighten still more.

Connor tasted warm and wonderful: the intoxicatingly rich flavor of his mouth all-consuming. Then, too, her nipples sent a sharp, tingle-burn throughout the rest of her body when he rubbed his chest against them. The thick pelt of inky curls tickled her in the most pleasurable way.

Gabrielle clutched tightly at fistfuls of his sleek, dark hair as she tried to pull his mouth closer still. It wasn't possible, but still she tried.

Connor's hands, which were again flanking her hips, shifted. The trews hugged her delectable curves like a glove; there was barely enough room to sneak his fingertips beneath the waist, yet he managed to find and use what little slack there was to his best advantage.

Gabrielle quivered and, her lips never leaving his, shifted so that she was on her knees completely facing him.

Connor eased the trews down. The curve of her naked bottom slid beneath his open palms. Lower. Over the creamy skin on the back of her thighs. Her flesh felt as warm and as soft as the velvety inside of a sun-warmed petal of heather.

The trews bunched around her knees. He wanted to feel more of her. Wanted to feel all of her. Wanted to feel it now.

With a flick of his wrist, Connor moved his hand to the inside of her thigh. She trembled beneath his touch, and oh but the sensation her reaction caused to bolt through him was incredible, like liquid fire sizzling hot and fast inside his veins. His heart hammered out a plaintive need that surpassed any he'd known before.

His mouth shifted its attention to her earlobe; he suckled it into his mouth and at the same time forced himself to temper the urgency raging through him as he lifted his hand. His calloused fingertips dragged ever so slowly over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

Her curiosity and eagerness had shocked him at first, but he'd adapted quickly. Now, Connor wasn't at all surprised when she automatically parted her thighs for him as his hand ascended higher still.

Her fingers tightened around his hair until he could feel the pull of it burning his scalp. There was, however, another, more compelling feeling that distracted his attention. It was the feel of her hips swiveling toward his touch in an age-old invitation.

His fingers moved ever upward along the inside of her thigh. The soft black curls there tickled and teased his fingertips, wispe

d softly, warmly across the back of his knuckles. His skin tingled and burned as his attention turned inward.

A soft moan whispered past her lips; the warm, moist waft of breath filtered through his hair and washed over the side of his neck.

He stroked her slowly, gently.

A shiver coursed down Connor's spine when he felt how hot and wet and ready she was for him. Her hips pulsated back and forth, matching the rhythm of his hand to perfection, urging it to increase.

He nuzzled her ear, then pulled back enough to watch her give a toss of her dark head, her silky hair shivering around her. Her eyes were closed, her soft features accentuated by the brief glitters of moonlight filtering down through the branches. The muscles in her thighs tightened and they closed firmly around his wrist. The movement of her hips increased and she moaned again, long and deep, as she rubbed against him.

The burden of restraining his passion, so unexpected and strong, was almost overwhelming.

Gabrielle's unbridled excitement served to increase his own. He wanted to push her back against the kilt, cover her body with his, claim her in a way she'd never been claimed before. And, God willing, never would be again! He wanted to make her his in the most intimate way. The need was raging inside him until he could think of nothing else but complete and total possession.

Only a few short minutes ago, Connor had offered to stop. Then, he would have, could have. Now it simply was not possible. With each thrust of her hips, with each feel of her dewy warmth against his fingertips, he knew he was beyond stopping. Her wild passion told him that Gabrielle knew it as well... and that neither of them wanted to see an end to such raw pleasure.

Swallowing back a groan, he slipped his index finger deeply inside her.

He heard her sharp inhalation. The fingers clutching his hair tightened painfully, but he didn't complain. Her hips went unnaturally still. After a beat, her inky lashes flickered up. Connor suddenly found himself staring down into passion-darkened green eyes. Eyes so deep and luminous they snatched away what little breath he had.

"M'lord, is that y-your...?" Her words trailed off, even as the color in her cheeks heated to a vibrant shade of crimson-peach.

It took Connor a second to realize what she was talking about. Because of her unreserved response, he'd forgotten for a second that she was very much an innocent in the ways of physical love.