Highlander Unchained (Highlander Trilogy 1)

Oh lord, she was sinful for responding to his touch. Whatever was the matter with her? He had told her he had no heart. He did not feel or care. He did not care now. He was punishing her and in more ways than one. She had never tasted passion until he had touched her and now she found that she wanted to taste more… but at what price?

She stiffened again when he ran the cloth down her legs, though gratefully he did not linger on them. A sigh rose in her chest, though remained locked there when she heard the cloth splash in the bucket. He was done.

Her relief was short-lived when he began to towel her back dry. And her tingles grew in leaps and bounds as he lingered on her backside.

By the time he finished she was throbbing between her legs and she was relieved when he handed her the towel and said, “Finish.”

She quickly ran the towel across her chest, though his stern command froze her hand.

“Turn around.”

Dawn did as ordered and turned to face him to finish drying herself. This time she could not avoid his eyes. It was impossible to, they gleamed with passion. And the sizeable swell beneath his leggings only served to confirm his craving.

That he would have her this night was obvious, but would it be as before? Would he spill his seed outside her fearful of getting her with child? Would it always be that way when he took her? Would she never know the feel of him buried inside her?

“Your need is as great as mine,” he said and her cheeks flushed red knowing passion gleamed as brightly in her eyes as it did in his.

She reached for the blanket draped over the chair at the table suddenly feeling much too vulnerable standing naked in front of him.

“Don’t,” he ordered sternly. “I want you naked.”

She shivered and felt herself grow wet. How could she want this man, who claimed not to care, so badly? He would take her and satisfy his need and that was all, but then wasn’t her need being satisfied as well? And what did she expect from a mighty warrior like Cree anyway?

Love.

The thought startled her. Without a heart how could he love anyone, though if his heart was merely silent was there hope? She learned how to speak without a voice. Could Cree’s heart learn to be heard? Or was she being foolish? After all how did one teach the devil to love?

Chapter Twenty-three

Cree walked over to Dawn stopping barely an inch away from her. He ran his thumb over her lips as if readying them for his kiss. But he didn’t kiss her. His hand drifted down to her neck and squeezed it gently before drifting to her shoulder and kneading it with strong fingers.

He did not understand his unrelenting need for this woman. He had never wanted a woman as much as he wanted Dawn. It was like a gnawing hunger in his soul that he feared would never be appeased.

All he wanted was to take her and bury himself deep inside her until he was lost in exquisite pleasure. Even then though, he worried that it might not be enough. He feared he would want her again and again. He felt completely out of control when it came to her and that did not sit well with him.

“You belong to me,” he whispered.

She stared at him for a fraction of a moment before nodding amazed by the thought that sprung to mind.

And you belong to me.

Without a doubt she belonged to him, everyone and thing in Dowell belong to him. But that she should think that he belonged to her was utter madness. And yet the thought nagged at her that Cree belonged to her and no amount of reasoning seemed to matter. It was a thought strongly rooted in her and try as she might she could not uproot it. It had dug deep and would not let go.

“You know I will have you this night.”

She laid her hand on his arm and pressed one finger against his hard muscles.

“You remember,” he murmured. “This is good. One for yes and two for no.” He took hold of her chin. “Tell me. I want you to gesture it. Do you want me?”

She thought he held his breath waiting for her answer and for the first time in many years she wished she had a voice. He wanted to hear her say it of her own accord and she answered him, she pressed a finger against the hard muscle in his forearm.

His chest expanded with a breath and in the next second he lifted her up into his arms and he carried her into the other room. He yanked the wool blankets back before placing her down on the bed and then he quickly slipped off his boots and yanked off his leggings tossing them carelessly to the floor.