The Laird's Willful Lass (The Lairds Most Likely 1) - Page 61

The wonder in his expression as he stared enthralled at her naked breasts scored a rift across her heart. The sight of her bosom spilling between the parted edges of her shirt seemed almost more brazen than full nakedness. Against the dark green merino jacket, her skin appeared startlingly white.

As he touched her, a glow verging on reverence shone in his eyes. He bent to kiss the slope of each pale breast, and she combed her fingers through his thick hair as she held him to her. More unruly emotions. Already this affair took her beyond anything she’d ever imagined. She curved a shaking hand around his shoulder, feeling his sinewy strength beneath her palm.

“Show me more,” he whispered, his breath making her skin tingle.

“Si, caro. Con piacere.” He sat back, as she wriggled out of jacket, shirt, and corset, pushing them to the floor in a tangled lump.

His breath caught, and he reached for her once more. “By God, you were worth waiting for,” he said huskily, his thumbs brushing nipples already hard and aching.

He took one peak between his lips, drawing on the tip until she moaned and twisted upon the bed. When she was sure she could bear no more of this fierce pleasure, he shifted his attentions to her other breast. She was astonished to learn that desire knew no limit.

A swift frown darkened his features as he noticed the bruises on her arms from yesterday’s fall. “To think, I came so close to losing ye yesterday.”

He bent his russet head to kiss each dark mark on her skin. She shivered under his tender attentions, and overwhelming emotion tightened her throat, until her breath emerged in broken gasps. She’d expected him to lavish his sensual skills upon her, but this sweetness made her feel cherished.

Her fingers returned to tangle in his rich, red hair, and as his teeth scraped her nipple, she pulled on the straight, satiny strands until he grunted. By the time he raised his head, she was shivering with ascending need. The secret hollow between her legs turned slick and hot, and she met his kiss with open-mouthed desperation. His lingering attentions to her breasts made her crave the ultimate joining.

“Don’t stop,” she croaked in a voice she didn’t recognize.

He dropped a kiss on the curve of her breast and to her dismay shifted to sit on the edge of the bed. Unable to bear even this much separation, she rose on her knees and pressed into his back. She twined her arms around him, feeling how he trembled. “Fergus?”

“You drive me right to the brink,” he confessed unsteadily. “Give me a moment.”

Snatching a choked breath, he caught her hand and placed it between his legs. Touching him where he rose hard and insistent under the soft wool kilt was extraordinary, as though she held the source of the world’s power. Excitement and an echo of her earlier trepidation clenched in her stomach, as she imagined all that strength and potency sliding into her.

“I want you so much,” Marina whispered, kissing a crooked line across the top of his naked back. The heat rising off his skin made her feel like she hunkered down next to a huge furnace.

“I want you too much.” His voice sounded like gravel.

The admission made her release his rod and slide her arms around his waist from behind. “Is that possible?”

His grunt of laughter held the familiar self-derisive note. “It is when I need to take my time and show ye what you’ve been missing, mo chridhe.”

She couldn’t imagine desiring him more than she did. “I’m ready for you now.”

With a gentleness that set her blood moving in languid circles and soothed the upsurge of virginal fear, he stroked her arms. “Not nearly.”

Cielo, there was more? She’d die of pleasure before he was done. “Don’t make me wait.”

“There’s no rush, my bonny. I have all day to drive ye mad.”

“You Highland laddies have high opinions of yourselves,” she said.

“Aye, and well earned, as you’ll soon see.”

“I hope it’s soon.”

“Patience has its rewards,” he murmured. “Trust me, Marina.”

“Si, I trust you, Fergus,” she said, and tried to ignore how closely her words resembled a declaration of love.

For a long time, he remained in her embrace. His erratic breathing settled. She’d wanted him to keep feeding her excitement. But as the seconds ticked by, the sweetness of this connection soon seduced her into a sensual dream.

“Lie back,” he murmured. She stretched out on the bed, her limbs heavy with longing and her heart racing with anticipation.

He stood to slide her half boots and stockings off. He’d lulled her into quietness, but her lassitude melted away like dew in sunlight when he began to stroke her legs. He ran his hands up her thighs, approaching but never reaching the place where she throbbed with need. When she made a wordless sound of complaint, the brute had the nerve to laugh at her.

“Patience.”

Tags: Anna Campbell The Lairds Most Likely Historical
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