To Tempt a Scotsman (Somerhart 1)

Chest no more than a hand's-breadth from the curve of her back, he stopped and breathed in the sweet, flowered smell of her hair. His shaft swelled.

A gasp flew from her throat when his hand touched her hair to sweep it away from her neck. She hissed out a breath when he leaned close enough to kiss her. He didn't though. He only inhaled, savoring the scent that had haunted his nights for months, wanting more of it, the smell of her skin and her arousal, the smell of sex.

She stood still beneath him, holding her breath, waiting. Collin closed his eyes, put his mouth to her neck just as he spread his fingers wide over the curve of her waist.

He wished that he was a beast then, when she shook and gasped. Wished he had sharp teeth to sink into her flesh, that he could press her against the wall and plunge into her from behind like a dog, like an animal.

She thought him so controlled, when he was everything but controlled with her. He wanted to punish her for that, to hurt her the way it hurt him to be near her, but not now. Not like this. Still. . . He was wild and the most he could offer her was pleasure in that wildness.

Stepping away from her, he wrenched off his dusty coat. She turned to watch, no longer blushing, but flushed with desire. She shone with it, eyes glinting in the lamplight.

"I canna promise you finesse this time, Alex."

She shook her head. "No."

"Tomorrow, perhaps."

Her mouth softened a little, smiled, but her eyes dropped to his chest as he reached for the buttons of his shirt. Her lips parted as she watched his movements, avid and heavy-eyed. When Collin jerked the shirt from his breeches, she stepped forward to push the linen up.

His muscles jumped and strained at the sweep of her fingers. She pressed both hands to his ribs, slid them over his chest and up to slip the shirt from his body. Collin threw his head back, overwhelmed by her roaming touch and the fascination on her beautiful face. That she could look upon him with such fervor. . .

"You can't know how much I've wanted to do this, Collin. Since that day in the stables . . . I've spent hours dreaming of your body. Days."

He felt her palms surveying him, lingering over his nip­ples, the hair that curled in the middle of his chest.

A growl of need flooded his throat, and he laid his hands over hers to still them. "You will unman me before we even start." When he opened his eyes again, she grinned up at him with delight. So much for the hunter being the hunted.

Collin smiled at the thought, chuckled.

"What?"

"Nothing. I overreached myself is all."

She blinked in puzzlement, but her smile never faltered, even as she backed away and began to unfasten her simple dress. Collin's laugh regressed to a growl.

The tiny ribbons of her bodice opened beneath her fin­gers at a maddeningly slow rate. Dozens of them trailed down the cotton, a line of restraint that ended below her waist, and his fingers itched to help. By the time she had reached the bows at the middle of her belly, Collin realized she wore nothing beneath and lost his fight for patience. She gasped when he reached for the collar and spread it wide, sliding it down over her arms till she was naked to the waist. She did not try to stop him.

"Jesus God," he whispered and kissed her finally, drank in her taste of wine and heat, and nearly spent himself at the warm press of her breasts against his body. A groan fell from her throat and Collin's hands shook as he buried them in her loose hair.

"God," he whispered again, pulling away from her mouth and dropping to his knees before her. Her small, high breasts rose and fell just above his eyes, lifted by her panting chest.

Reverent, fierce, he gazed up at her, almost afraid to touch that soft curve of flesh, afraid to give himself over to her power. She watched him, waiting as he set his hands at her waist and pushed the dress down, letting it fall away from her.

The fabric slithered into a pile and left silence in its wake. He couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. Alexandra stood before him, naked and glorious and unashamed, and Collin's heart twisted with a pop of pain.

"Alex," he moaned, hands smoothing a line from her hips to her waist, to the hard curve of her ribs. "How can you be so beautiful?"

He pressed his face to her belly, to the twitch of strong muscle and satin skin. He dragged his lips over the texture of silk and the scent of woman. Bit lightly at the first rib he found so that her legs gave out and he had to hold her, so that her body fell far enough that the pearl pink tip of one nipple slid right into his mouth.

She arched into him with a cry and a plea. He sucked and she wept. Nipped and she screamed. Then she wrapped her­self around him, trapped him within the circle of her legs and pressed her wet heat against his belly.

They both panted, both pressed hard into the other as he fell back on his haunches and slid her onto his lap.

Her mouth fell upon his, and he thrust into her with his tongue as he longed to do with his cock, slipped his hands down to clutch the round firmness of her buttocks, and cursed the painful confinement of his breeches. His hands refused to relinquish their prize long enough to set her aside and tear them off, but he was going to explode before he ever got inside her if he didn't hurry. He'd been waiting so damn long.

Alex rocked against him, sucking his tongue, and Collin forgot his breeches and slipped one hand further down, along the seam of her body and into her slick core.

Rearing up, she cried out as his fingertips pressed in, screamed when he slid them further along to the hard nub of her pleasure. She was already peaking, he realized in shock, even as he circled her again, even as he pushed a finger deep inside her. Her body squeezed him, tight and so soft he wanted to weep in desperation, wanted to cry out with her as she pushed and rocked against his hand.