Never Love a Highlander (McCabe Trilogy 3)

He gave a soft laugh. “You have no idea, lass. You have no idea.”

For the first time, she initiated an intimate gesture. Her hands framed his face, her thumbs feathering over his firm cheekbones. She caressed his angular jaw and then smoothed her fingers over his lips.

Raising her head, she framed his face once more and pulled him down into a long kiss. Their tongues tangled hotly. She had no breath but she refused to pull away. His kiss was intoxicating. The sweetest nectar she’d ever tasted.

Her body opened under his insistent push. ’Twas like having a fiery sword invade her depths. So hard and velvety. Her body resisted his intent to conquer but he held her in place, his hands grasping her hips as he thrust again.

“Kiss me, lass. ’Twill be over in an instant.”

Just as their mouths met in a breathless rush, he thrust hard and deep. She was unprepared for the pain. Aye, she’d known what had to happen, but she’d expected a twinge. Maybe even a brief piercing pain. But not this tearing sensation that had her insides feeling brushed by fire.

She cried out and tears sprang unbidden to her eyes, burning as they trailed down her cheeks.

Caelen immediately stilled, his c**k buried deep inside her passage. There was matching pain in his expression as he clenched his jaw tightly. His nostrils flared and he took in several deep breaths as he shuddered against her.

He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, each cheekbone, and even her nose. Then he kissed away the trails of moisture sliding over her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, lass. So very sorry.”

The ache in his voice made her heart twist. A knot formed in her throat, swelling until she couldn’t shape the words she most wanted to say.

He kissed her again even as a harsh groan welled from his chest.

“Tell me when ’tis better. I’ll not move until you say me aye.”

She clenched experimentally around him, testing the tenderness of her sheath.

“God’s teeth, lass. Have mercy.”

She smiled, relieved that some of the fiery pain had dulled to an odd ache deep in her womb. “ ’Tis much better now. The pain has dulled.”

“Thank God,” he muttered. “I cannot hold out much longer.”

She swept a hand over his damp brow and then thrust her fingers into his hair as she pulled him down into a deep kiss.

“Finish it,” she whispered.

He carefully withdrew and her eyes widened at the myriad of sensations that bombarded her. She was tender, aye, and the discomfort was there, but there was also an incredible burn that had nothing to do with pain.

“Easy now,” he murmured. “Give it time, lass. You’ll feel pleasure.”

He pushed forward again, slowly and with such tenderness that she sighed. He seemed so determined that the experience be as pleasant as possible for her.

His fingers found her nipple and he rubbed the pad of his thumb over the peak until it stiffened and became erect. Then he caressed the other until both br**sts were achingly tight.

He smiled down at her, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “You grow wet around me. The br**sts you try so hard to hide bring you much pleasure. And me. They are beautiful like you and a credit to your womanhood. They are soft, as a woman should be, and pleasing to look upon. There is naught I can find fault with you, lass. God fashioned you a perfect woman. I am a lucky man, indeed.”

Oh but she planned to remind him of his honeyed words the next time he turned his scowl of disapproval on her. And she’d remember each and every one of his endearments. She’d hold them close to her heart and pretend that she was his cherished love and not a bride thrust upon him for the sake of loyalty and honor.

Keeley had warned her that a man would say a lot when his c**k was involved. Things he didn’t necessarily mean. Now Rionna understood what Keeley had meant.

He withdrew and thrust again, this time with much more ease. He was right. She had grown damp the moment he fondled her br**sts. For so long they’d been such a source of irritation but now she was discovering that they had their uses after all.

For the first time she embraced the idea that somehow she was feminine. Beautiful even. She didn’t despair of appearing softer and not as fierce. It felt good to be a woman in a strong warrior’s arms. Aye, it felt good indeed.

“Do I hurt you still?” he asked.

She raised her mouth to his. “Nay, warrior. You feel very, very good.”

“As do you, wife.”

He slid his hands underneath her bu**ocks and cupped her, spreading her wider and holding her closer to him. He thrust, burying himself deeper than before.

Gone was the tender warrior who’d strove not to cause her any pain. Now that he was assured of her comfort, he began planting himself inside her as if he were proving his possession, his right to possess her.

His teeth scraped her jaw and then moved lower to her neck. His breath blew hot over her skin, scorching a path from her ear to her shoulder.

He alternately nipped, sucked, and kissed her until she was sure she’d wear the marks for an entire fortnight. He was insatiable, as if he’d starved himself of her for too long and could no longer control his intense hunger.

She threw back her head, surrendering to his power. She offered her submission freely. He awoke a fierce longing within her. Feelings that she’d never considered. She wanted to belong to him. She wanted to be cherished by him.

She was his wife. She closed her eyes and her heart to the reason for their marriage. Just because it had begun one way didn’t mean it couldn’t change to something else entirely.

She wanted his love.

Aye, she demanded it.