He bends his mouth to my breast and tugs my nipple between his teeth. An erotic flare of arousal shoots through me when he suckles the tender skin. He watches me, and this time, for the first time ever, I involuntarily give little moans and mewls. He grins, my nipple still between his lips, then gives it a parting stroke of his tongue.
“I’ve been dying to hear you moan,” he says, rolling me over onto the bed and pinning me beneath him. “Now I want to make you scream.”
“Leith,” I whisper, as he suckles and flicks my nipples. They’re hardened peaks and I’m so wet.
“Be mine, Cairstina. Will you, doll? Will you marry me?”
I nod my head, so grateful I can say the words out loud. “Yes.”
His eyes alight in victory, and he quickly removes his clothes. No condom.
I nod eagerly, wrapping my arms around his neck. I’m craving the intimate connection of skin on skin, craving the feeling of him in me so badly. I’m so ready for him, he slides easily against my slick folds as his cock finds my entrance.
“So beautiful,” he whispers in my ear. “So fucking gorgeous.”
He strokes in one firm, exquisite move, and whispers against the shell of my ear. “I’m going to find one. A cave.”
He moves in me, my pussy clenching around his thick, throbbing cock. “And when I do,” he continues. “I’m going to tie you up and ravage you.”
I moan, and he kisses my cheek. “I love the sounds you make,” he says on a sigh. “Let yourself go, lass. No more silence. Enjoy this.”
And so I do. I groan when he pumps in me and pant when he builds the rhythm of pleasure. My head falls back as I near my climax, and his movements grow quicker, more hurried.
I wrap my legs around his muscular torso as he ravages my body, plunging deep in me, then drawing nearly fully out, only to do it all over again.
“Yes,” I moan. “Yes.”
And as he groans in release and my own ecstasy overtakes me, I whisper a heated, passionate, “I love you, Leith Cowen. And I will forever.”
* * *
Chapter Nineteen
Leith
We fall into a beautiful, perfect pattern of simplicity, but every day brings me more joy than the last. I wake up beside the most lovely woman a bloke could ever imagine. She’s curled up beside me, naked after another night of making love. Her light brown hair falls in waves onto the pillow and all around her. I stare at her too-long lashes, the way they frame her eyes and only gently move when she draws in a breath.
I trace my finger along her ear, her nose, and to the fullness of her lips. She doesn’t stir.
I move my exploration further south, over her shoulders, to her full, gorgeous lips and still, she doesn’t move. I smile to myself. I wore the lass out last night.
It’s been nearly a week since our run-in with the Aitkens. Mac promises he’s got news for me, and I’ve heard rumors from Tate that he’s got his eyes on one of Aitkens’ daughters. I don’t know his plan fully, but I know the Aitkens blonde doesn’t stand a chance against Mac’s wiles.
He comes to me one day when I’m chopping wood, and I don’t hear him at first for the sound of the ax and splintering log.
“Leith?”
I turn to him, panting, and slam the ax in the chopping block before I yank my sweaty t-shirt off.
“Thanks, was hoping to get a good look at those abs of yours,” he says with a wry smile. I flex, just for him, and he laughs.
Somewhere between Paisley’s injuries and Dad’s, Mac’s lost the chip on his shoulder. He leans against one of the trees, and he looks older somehow. Wiser, even. Though he’s always had Mum’s cornflower blue eyes and sleek black hair, he reminded me of my dad with his large frame and muscular body. Today, he reminds me more of Mum, though.
“How are things going with your plan?” I ask.
He nods, sobering. “Better than I expected. We’ll get retribution, Leith. I promise.”
I’ve warned him to be careful, but he says he knows what he’s doing.
He says that the plan’s going exactly as he hoped, and he’s preparing to make his move. It’d better. I won’t let the Aitkens get the upper hand.
Silence lingers between us, as he works his jaw and looks over my shoulder. I pick up the ax again and line up another log to split.
“I’m sorry, Leith.”
I pause mid-swing and turn to look at him. “Why’s that?”
“I was an arse,” he mutters. “Didn’t respect you. Didn’t think it fair you took Tavish’s role, if I’m honest.”
I stare at him, as a cool breeze stings my sweat-slicked back. Finally, I shrug. “No need to apologize. You needed me to prove myself.” I lift the ax and swing it hard, relishing the heft of the blade.