Don't Give A Damn About My Plaid Reputation (Bad in Plaid 4)

Water was a mysterious place as far as she was concerned; fish shat in it, and ‘twas full of slimy things like eels and rocks and shipwrecks. At that moment, her left heel came down on what was either a dead whale or a slimy rock—they felt similar—and she lost her balance.

Thank St. Kelsi he was there to grab her, because otherwise she might’ve done something outrageous, like get her hair wet.

But since the result was his arms were strong—and warm—against her back, and hers were around his neck, she decided she ought to slip on decomposing blubber more often.

“Robena….” he whispered.

She was pressed against his chest, his hips. And while all of him was delightfully hard, her belly cradled the most interesting bit of hardness.

The cold water hadn’t affected him one bit.

Here and now.

She could say something coy, but…this is what she’d been hoping for, ever since she’d stumbled out of that wretched forest and seen him posed there on the shoreline, looking like some ancient god.

Nay, she’d been hoping for this long before tonight; since she’d learned the truth about Kester’s future—nay, since she’d left Oliphant Castle. Since that time in the secret passageway. Since she’d first been introduced to him.

Since forever.

“Kester,” she murmured. “I’d verra much like to kiss ye.”

There was enough light to see him swallow, but not enough to guess at the emotion in his eyes. She guessed he was debating, and curled her fingers into the hair at the base of his neck.

With a groan of surrender, he pulled her up his body and claimed her lips.

Robena’s heart leapt at the same moment her core melted. ‘Twas the most delicious sensation, one which stole her breath from her lungs. Or mayhap that was him.

Or mayhap she was just afraid of breathing and ruining this perfect moment, with the water lapping against her back and his tongue reminding her what it meant to feel loved.

He tasted of apples and joy.

His large, callused hands spread across the bare skin of her back, and the sensation was so unique, she gasped, finally sucking in a lungful of air as his teeth tugged at her lower lip. That sent all sorts of interesting sparks across her skin, and she moaned and pressed herself closer to him.

Her own hands refused to be still. Content in the knowledge he would hold her, protect her, she was free to allow her touch to roam across his body, reveling in each touch, each new inch of skin she discovered.

Kissing a naked man was really quite an experience.

His lips trailed hot kisses along her jaw, and she tilted her head to one side to allow him better access as she dragged her fingernails across his scalp. He shuddered and muttered something, his hips flexing forward so the thick length of him pressed against her smooth skin.

She grinned and tipped her head back.

When one of his hands abandoned her back, she had a moment of panic, but only as long as it took for it to settled against the side of her neck. He held her in place as he captured her lips again, and this kiss was even better than the first. Possibly because his touch was also roaming.

Where his fingertips brushed against her skin, tiny fires ignited, each spark the mother of five more. She squirmed in his hold, the throbbing in her core growing with each breath….

And then his palm closed around one of her breasts.

She mewled against his lips, arching to thrust herself into his hold, but trying not to break their kiss.

She felt him smile. Felt it all the way into her chest and down to that aching spot between her thighs and back out again.

‘Twas really quite a remarkable sensation, to have a man cup one’s breast. Especially a breast which had been bound too tight for too long—

Oh.

Whatever she’d been feeling was far eclipsed by what happened to her body when he took her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and rolled it.

She went mad.