Don't Give A Damn About My Plaid Reputation (Bad in Plaid 4)
With her back to him, she began to unwind the length of soft material she’d wrapped around her chest to hold down her small tits.
“Lass?” he finally asked in a choked voice. “What are ye doing?”
She turned just enough to peek over her shoulder at him. “I’m undressing.” She was grinning.
“Aye, I can see that.”
The twin globes of her arse cheeks were taunting him, and he had to curl his hands into fists to keep from reaching for them—her.
As the last loop of linen unwound from her chest, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Ah. Ye cannae imagine how good that feels. Why would anyone want to spend their days confining their breasts that way? Can ye just imagine how ridiculous that would be? To have to wear something so restrictive every day, under yer clothes, just to give yer body the silhouette some arbiter of fashion declared necessary?”
She was…words were coming out of her mouth, Kester was almost certain of it. But what she was saying exactly…he couldn’t seem to focus.
Because she was standing naked before him.
Naked.
On the shores of the loch, the moonlight haloed around her.
Naked.
Bits of her were thrown into shadow, but other—equally important bits—were on display, and his mouth went dry.
Naked.
“Robena?” he croaked.
She smiled. “I’m going to bathe, Kester. I’ve been riding a horse for what seems like eons, and I’m filthy. Yer men have complimented my ‘manly stench’, but now I’ve removed the mustache and am no longer Robbie….”
Turning, she offered him a jaunty wave and sauntered toward the water.
It wasn’t until Kester stumbled to stay upright that he realized he was unconsciously following her.
“Oh!” She froze when the water lapped against both her feet. “‘Tis cold!”
He could no more answer her than declare the sun to stop shining.
She shrugged, hugged herself, and then in a sudden flurry of movement, threw herself forward into the water.
“Lass!” he barked as he lunged, yanking himself to a stop only when he saw her rise to the surface.
Water slicked off her shoulders, between the valley of her breasts, and toward the darkness below her navel. Beneath his kilt, his cock throbbed in response.
“Kester?” she called sweetly. “I’m going into deeper water to bathe.”
He thought he might’ve grunted in response.
“And Kester?” Her grin was wide enough he could see it from here. “I cannae swim.”
“Ye…cannae swim?”
“Nay! I never learned. I guess I’ll just have to trust ye to keep me from drowning.”
As she turned away and began that awkward half-swim, half-walk toward deeper water, Kester reached for the clasp of his sword belt.
* * *
As the waterclosed over her breasts, Robena gave a little shudder which wasn’t entirely from the cold.