The Highlander's Lost Lady (The Lairds Most Likely 3)

Her curious gaze settled on the flesh swelling between his thighs. “Good Lord above.”

“I want ye, too.”

When she licked her lips, he bit back a pained groan. In most respects, she was still an innocent. He shouldn’t be imagining those satiny red lips closing around his dick.

“I…see.”

She continued to stare at his cock. Lack of blood started to make his head swim. “Are ye…are ye afraid?”

For her sake, he could hold back. Or at least he’d do his damnedest.

Fiona licked her lips again. Hell, he wished she’d stop doing that.

The delay before she replied threatened to blast him into tiny, steaming pieces. “You know, I don’t think I am. May I touch you?”

He was so stupid with wanting her, he wasn’t sure he’d heard her aright. “Aye.”

She pushed up against the pillows and stretched out one unsteady hand. Diarmid felt like he was strangling. His hands curled in the sheets beneath him, and he braced for her touch as if awaiting a blow.

Although the contact was over in an instant, it rushed through him like a tidal wave. He shut his eyes and groaned, as he battled for control.

“Oh!” she said on a soft exclamation of surprise that made him grit his teeth. “You’re…hot.”

By the devil, he was. Hot enough to burn to ash.

“May I do that again?”

“Aye.” The word was a harsh rumble.

“Are you sure?”

He opened his eyes to see her regarding him uncertainly, but not, thank God, with any fear.

“Of course I’m sure.” The prospect of her hand on him made his blood rush with wild anticipation. “I’m an inch away from grabbing ye. You must know by now that I want ye to the point of madness.”

A frown drew her fine brows together as she digested his words. “How…”

Perhaps his need troubled her or, even worse, disgusted her. Breath jammed like hot coals in his throat, as he waited for her to finish the sentence.

“…delightful.”

Dazed, bewildered, he stared at her. He was so used to seeing Fiona frightened, it took him a few moments to recognize that her expression conveyed curiosity and something that might almost be need.

“What?”

She shrugged, and her soft red lips curved in a smile tinged with gloating. “After what we just did—what you just did to me—I’m glad I can return the pleasure.”

“A hundredfold,” he said on a groan. He caught her hand. “Shall I show ye another way of giving me pleasure?”

The smile deepened, and sensual interest sparked in the blue eyes. “Yes, please.”

When he placed her hand on him, the heat threatened to incinerate him. He ground his teeth, as he hardened, when he’d already been as hard as an iron bar for what felt like hours.

He waited in a lather of suspense for Fiona to pull free. Instead, she shaped her hand to fit him, stroking his length, then curling her fingers around him. The night turned into exquisite torture.

“You like this?”

The husky question penetrated the uproar of blood in his head. “More than I can say.”