The Highlander's Lost Lady (The Lairds Most Likely 3)
Words failed her, and she leaned forward to kiss him with a luxurious languor that thickened her blood to honey. Her breasts pressed into his chest, creating a beguiling friction against the crisp curls of dark hair.
She lingered over the kiss, before she rose with fresh confidence. Holding that impressive column of flesh beneath her, she angled over him. It was easier than she’d imagined to take him inside her, although the action seemed outlandish, almost unnatural.
“What should I do?” she asked uncertainly.
“Whatever ye like.” Humor creased his eyes as he caught her hips in a light hold. “But I fear if you delay too long, I mightnae stay the distance.”
“You’re a hero, Diarmid. You’ll manage.”
She meant it, although his grunt of amusement told her he thought she was teasing.
Teasing…
Slowly, knowing it would both tantalize and please him, she rose. Every nerve in her body sparked to life. Her startled gaze met his. He watched her with a powerful mixture of tenderness and hunger.
Fiona tightened and squirmed, until he groaned. Stoking the heat inside her to a blaze, she settled into an undulating pattern. When he cupped her breasts, a spike in pleasure made her circle her hips.
He groaned again and pinched her nipples, propelling her spiraling need ever upward. Her movements became more uneven, as each wave hit harder. He tugged at her nipples and jutted his hips higher into her.
The subtle change in position swept her across into rapture. She convulsed over him, as rivers of fire flashed through her. Vaguely through the glory, she felt his hands tighten on her hips. He rolled her under him again. As he shifted over her, she felt the mattress give beneath her back.
Diarmid groaned and thrust hard. In a heated gush, his seed flooded her womb.
***
In perfect, unprecedented peace, Diarmid sprawled over Fiona. His galloping heart slowed from its headlong rush. This time he felt neither guilt nor dissatisfaction. She’d found her peak, just before he’d delivered himself over to a fulfillment deeper and more powerful than anything he’d ever known.
For a few seconds, he lingered dazzled in that heaven, his cock still inside Fiona, her arms holding him close, the broken whisper of her breath in his ears. Then he stirred and raised his head.
“I must be crushing ye.”
She always looked beautiful, but the ease in her expression as she stared up at him made her so bonny that he caught his breath. Her eyes glowed, and the ever-present strain was gone. “I like it.”
“You’re a strange wee lassie,” he murmured and kissed her quickly. Her lips moved under his with tenderness, but no passion.
Despite her beauty, she looked weary. It had been a long and eventful night.
Gently he wrapped his arms about her and moved onto his side, taking her with him. They remained joined. He had an uncanny feeling that after this miraculous night they’d shared, in some indefinable sense, they’d remain linked forever.
He’d liked and enjoyed the women he’d taken to his bed before his marriage. But the act of love had never touched his soul the way it did with Fiona. She’d pleasured his body—he felt so pleasured, he feared he’d never walk again—but she’d also filled some hollow in his heart he hadn’t even known was there.
Perhaps it was because they were husband and wife. He and this woman would create a family, live together as long as the good Lord granted.
Fiona studied him, as if profound thoughts troubled her, too. “I feel…married.”
Suddenly and illogically happy, he smiled. He bumped his hips forward and felt her tighten around him as if she, like he, couldn’t bear to break the connection. “By God, so do I.”
“I’m glad I came to you tonight.”
“I never imagined ye would.”
The joy in her smile made his heart turn a clumsy somersault. “To think, we can do it all again and again.”
“Aren’t we lucky?”
“And…” A yawn interrupted her. “Actually I might need some sleep before we get too adventurous.”
“You’ve been worrying yourself sick for days, haven’t ye?”