His words devolved into a groan, and dimly, through her own spiraling pleasure, she felt liquid heat spill from the tip of his cock, sliding between their bodies.
They stood—or possibly floated, or melted, or existed—like that for a million heartbeats, and also for far too short a time. As her breathing returned to normal, she realized his forehead was pressed against hers once more, his eyes squeezed shut, and his fingers still inside her.
Unable to stop herself, and not wanting to, she brushed her lips against his cheekbone. Then his brow, then his nose. Finally, his eyes opened.
“Robena….”
“If ye apologize, Kester MacBain, I’ll smack ye.” She flexed her fingers around his cock, which was still pinned between them, and saw him smile.
“Verra well. I was going to say….” He captured her lips in his, this kiss soft, and over too quickly. “Thank ye. Thank ye for giving me this. Here and now.”
She swallowed, hating the fact the reminder somehow soured the hum of joy still thrumming through her body. This had been her idea. This had been what she wanted.
Here and now.
Forcing a light tone, she smiled. “Thank ye, Kester.”
Mayhap he’d felt the change in the moment because he blew out a breath and slid his fingers from inside her, loosening his hold on her arse at the same time. She did the same, releasing him, relaxing her legs from around his hips.
He brushed another gentle kiss against her lips, although this one seemed somehow perfunctory. “Shall we bathe?”
That had been the reason she’d goaded him out here, had it not?
“Aye.” She turned him toward the shore. “Although mayhap closer to land, eh?”
He sighed as he followed her. “Ye really cannae swim, lass?”
“I never learned. I never needed to.”
‘Twas likely the smirk she sent over her shoulder which had his lips reluctantly tugging into a grin. “Ye have me.”
He’d held her tonight, protected her.
“Aye,” she murmured, reaching down to collect a handful of sand to rub into her scalp to clean it. “I have ye.”
But no’ for long.