The Highlander's English Bride (The Lairds Most Likely 6)

"Take off your shirt."

He cooperated. She licked her lips, as she conducted a leisurely survey of his body. He groaned. "If you keep looking at me like that, I won’t be responsible for the consequences."

"Patience," she murmured, rising from the chaise longue and prowling toward him like a panther on the hunt.

At that moment, he realized how much she’d changed. This was a woman who claimed her right to sensual pleasure. So far he’d called the tune. Emily was right about that. He had a suspicion that after today, that would no longer be the case.

For a week, he’d basked in unrivaled physical satisfaction. He’d relished watching Emily’s tentative responses transform to blazing ecstasy. She was perfect in his arms, the most wonderful lover he’d ever known. But this predatory version of his wife set him ablaze with an excitement he’d never felt before. She was dangerous and daring and full of unexpected surprises. He couldn’t wait to see what she did next.

What she did next was run her hands over his bare chest with an appreciative languor that turned him as hard as an iron bar. He exhaled in an agony of delight. "You’re going to spin this out, aren’t you?"

A superior smile hovered around her lips. "You have somewhere you need to be?"

"I’m sure I can spare the time." The last words escaped as a gasp, because she kissed his chest. The heat of her lips on his skin shuddered through him like summer lightning.

She ran her hands up and down his arms. "You’re a magnificent figure of a man, you know."

"Thank you." Another groan escaped him, as she flicked her tongue over one nipple then the other. Shaking hands reached for her. "Emily…"

"No." She dodged out of reach. "I want to find out what gives you pleasure. It’s…it’s a scientific investigation."

Despite his frustration, a laugh escaped. "Even if you kill your subject?"

She kept smiling. "It’s in a good cause."

He raised one eyebrow. "You like having me at your mercy."

"Definitely."

"Then go ahead." He set his jaw and told himself he could endure. "Anything to further the sum of human knowledge."

Her smile widened. "I hoped you’d feel like that."

She went back to kissing his chest. He trembled as she dipped her head low and traced a sizzling path down his belly to the belt that cinched his kilt. She moved to his back, scraping her teeth across his skin. He sucked in a deep breath, then released it when she bit him. His cock twitched, and he nearly came there and then.

Her incoherent sounds of pleasure only heightened his arousal. He always relished Emily’s unabashed enjoyment of what they did together. He’d thought her an exciting lover when she followed his lead. Now with her dedicating that impressive brain to his titillation, he wanted to get down on his knees in thanks.

He might yet fall to his knees. Under this slow, thorough seduction, his legs didn’t feel too steady.

The tendons of his neck tightened as she nibbled a line across his shoulder. He’d never had a lover take this amount of trouble over him. The close focus was as arousing as the touch of her lips.

Well, almost.

"You’re so warm," she murmured into his skin.

Warm? Hell, she had no idea. One stray spark and he’d burst into flames.

"And so large and strong."

"Emily…" Her name was a drawn-out plea to stop tormenting him.

She shifted behind him again and fiddled with the tie in his hair. Her sigh when his hair slipped about his shoulders made his gut clench in longing.

She smoothed his hair, stroking him like a big cat. "I suppose you’ll have to chop your hair off when we go back to London."

He closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation. He already knew she liked his long hair. That was one of the reasons he hadn’t cut it. "They won’t let me into Almack’s if I look like a Norse raider."

"Then devil take Almack’s. We’ll just have to stay here forever."