“You,” she whispered. “Dear God, I want you.”
The thunder drowned out her moans as his mouth and his fingers danced across her skin, sensations ratcheting tighter and tighter until she felt herself shatter, pleasure racking through her in shuddering waves.
“Please,” she rasped. “Please. More.”
Again the thunder bellowed, the cottage shaking, the intensity mimicking her body’s release. Lightning flashed, flickering against his face as he pulled her close, his touch gentle and soothing—almost worshipful. As she trembled against him, he caressed her with murmured words and soft kisses.
For a moment, they stayed like that, his arms around her, their legs entwined, hearts beating almost as one. Then she felt her body awaking, felt desire begin to blossom again. She tipped back her head, offering herself. And he greedily acceptedthe invitation, exploring every inch of her, leaving nothing untouched.
Trembling with the sheer power of the feelings he evoked, she rolled on top of him, indulging her need to taste him. She’d never felt so reckless and yet so sure of herself. The sounds of the storm played out like a symphony, a soundtrack accompanying the splendor of their lovemaking. She ran her hands along the rugged planes of his body, reveling in the hardened muscles. She traced the line of a scar, then followed her touch with kisses.
And then he straddled her, pinning her with his weight. Catching her gaze, he waited, poised above her, his glittering eyes promising everything. With a sharp intake of breath, she wrapped her legs around him, and with one swift move he buried himself inside her. The pleasure was exquisite, and she pushed against him, taking him even deeper.
There was passion reflected in the depths of his eyes, passion and triumph—and something else, something so tender it almost took her breath away. She lost herself then, in the icy blue depth of his eyes.
“Are you ready, lass?” he whispered, the touch of his breath against her ear almost as sensual as his sinewy movements inside her.
“Yes,” she sighed, pressing against him, wanting only to pull him deeper still. “Oh, please. Yes.”
His arms circled around her, anchoring her to him as he thrust, their bodies fusing together as he began to move, slowly, almost languorously at first. The movement both tormented and delighted. With a moan, she slammed upward, driving him home, and the fury erupted, the storm reaching crescendo. Still, moving inside her, he slipped a hand between her legs, one finger stroking her core.
She gasped, arching up to drive him deeper, tightening around him, wanting to give him as much as he was giving her.They moved together faster and faster, pumping and thrusting, locked together in their own special dance. With a crash, thunder filled the room, the reverberation echoing off the walls. For a moment they teetered at the edge of the cliff. And then with one last powerful thrust they fell.
His arms tightened around her as white hot pleasure raced through her, her body shaking with the intensity, sensation overriding all rational thought. There was only the two of them together. And even though she knew it was an illusion, she held fast to the dream. There’d be time enough for reality tomorrow.
5
Bram lay in the stillness listening to Lily breathe. The worst of the storm had passed now, the light patter of rain against the thatched roof the only sign it had been there at all.
That and the woman in his bed.
He knew he should not have taken advantage of her. She could not be thinking clearly after all that had happened. And yet when she had turned to him, he could not stop himself. Holding her had been like holding something precious. Something that he could never replace. And he’d only wanted more. And so when she had offered, he had accepted, meaning only to steal a kiss. To feel her lips beneath his. But one kiss had not been enough and now—well, now he felt as hungry as before. As if there could never be enough.
Not with her. Not with Lily.
She stirred beside him, her eyes fluttering open.
“You are awake,” he said, stating a blinding glimpse of the obvious, but then she had a way of stealing his words.
She nodded and ducked her head, clearly embarrassed.
“Dinna turn from me, Lily. There is no shame here.” And as he said the words he knew that they were true. This was hiswoman. He knew it in his heart and in his soul. She belonged to him. And he to her.
“I’m not ashamed,” she said, offering a small smile. “Just feeling a little odd. As if I’ve woken in your arms a million times before. It’s silly, I know…”
“But ’tis the truth,” he whispered. “I feel it, too.”
She lifted her face, her eyes meeting his. “Then this isn’t a dream?”
“If it is, then I hope never to waken.” He pulled her close against him, feeling the steady beat of her heart.
They lay like that for moments or hours—time didn’t seem to matter. But then she stirred again, rolling away to prop herself on one elbow. “It isn’t fair. You know my name but I don’t know yours.”
He smiled into the darkness. “Bram Macgillivray,” he replied with a flourish of his hand. “At your service, my lady.”
Her laughter rang through the room. “Actually, I’m the one indebted to you.” Her expression sobered. “I’ve a feeling you saved my life.”
“Well, you owe me naught. I am just glad you’ve recovered. ’Tis a nasty bruise you have on your forehead. What happened to you out there?”
