Still staring at her in confusion, Pherson muttered, “Magnificent,” in agreement.
She grinned. “And now I’m going to need another lesson.”
His gaze dropped to her lips. “In kissing?” he rasped, half in hope, half in fear.
“Och, aye, I suspect I’ll never get enough kissing from ye.” She was smiling in a way which said she knew exactly what she wanted, and how to go about getting it. “But my orders were clear; I need to learn about pleasure. From a man.” Her fingers tugged at his queue. “From ye, in case that wasnae obvious.”
Why couldn’t his mind seem to hold onto a thought? It must’ve been the sensation of her arms around him, and the way her tits were pressed against him. Aye. ‘Twas that.
“Orders?” He grasped that bit of ridiculousness, trying to maintain his control. “From a ghost?”
She was chewing on her lower lip, which was not helping him to remember why he couldn’t kiss her again.
“Ye dinnae believe me.” It wasn’t a question, but she sounded resigned. “I dinnae mind; ‘tis exhausting sometimes, being the only one who is pestered by the damned spectres.” She managed to shrug and her smile seemed a little forced. “Then consider this logically, Pherson.”
“Aye, logic would be good.” Especially considering all of his had escaped the moment he realized who his dagger had pinned to the wall of his home. “Verra good.”
She seemed to brighten, as if he’d said something right. Her fingers were now massaging the base of his neck, and he didn’t want to admit how blasted good that felt.
“If I’m here because of what I told ye; that I’m under orders from my ghostly tutor to learn how a man can pleasure a woman, then—as improbable as that might seem--I’ve chosen ye to be my teacher and there’s no reason not to agree, aye?”
He found himself nodding before he really understood.
“And if, for some reason, I’m lying about the whole ghost thing—I’m no’, by the way, but we’re approaching this in a logical manner—then what does that mean?” Since her fingernails were now raking his scalp and sending shudders of pleasure down his spine, Pherson thought it good she clearly wasn’t expecting a response. “It means I want ye. Desperately. I want ye to teach me about pleasure so desperately, I’ve made up a ridiculous claim and shown up at your door in the middle of the night.”
I want ye.
It was likely she said other words after that, but Pherson’s mind had become stuck on the way her lips formed those sounds.
I want ye.
And Sweet Christ, did he want her in return.
She was so bloody logical about it.
Smiling up at him, she seemed to understand she’d won. “I’m no’ asking for much, Pherson. No’ yet. Just kiss me again. Kiss me and teach me about the pleasure a man can give a woman.”
He couldn’t.
He shouldn’t
Obviouslyhe was going to.
With a groan of surrender, he lowered his lips to hers.
* * *
Aye!
Aye, please!
There was a part of Wynda’s mind which was always, always observing and cataloging and wondering. And while here and now would’ve been a brilliant time for that part of her brain to shut up and sit down, ‘twas impossible.
So while her body was completely inflamed by Pherson’s kisses, a small part of her was busy considering her response.
St. Tiffani’s big toe, this is remarkable. Similar, yet completely different from the way I feel when I’ve imagined his kisses, his touches.
Late at night, when she tried to capture those feelings on her own, beneath the blankets.