What was this life? Near twelve years of loving her from afar, resigned in his fate that he’d only be allowed small innocent moments, a laugh, a conversation, a glance—and that would have been enough. To feed the need he had for her deep in his soul. He’d never imagined he would’ve ever ended up here.
And he was determined to show her just how grateful he was, just how much this meant to him. She snuggled up next to him in bed, she in just a silk nightdress and he in just a pair of coarse wool trousers. That wouldn’t do.
“I believe they say skin-to-skin contact aids in healing,” he said, tilting her chin up so he could press a kiss to her nose and then her mouth.
Her lips curved against his. “Do they now? And since when did you obtain such extensive medical knowledge?”
He kissed her again. “‘Tis an old Scottish remedy.”
“Mmmm. I’m sure.” But her lips were twitching with mirth, her eyes glowing. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, Malcolm.” Her fingers fluffed his chest hair, and a shiver stole over his skin at the tickling sensation.
“I think what you meant to say, lass, is it’s a most excellent idea.”
She let out a soft snort, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “We both know where it’ll lead if we’re both naked.” Her smile faded, her expression turning serious. “You’ll hurt yourself, injure yourself further. I’m sure the doctor would not approve.”
“I’m sure most people wouldnae approve of the things I want to do to ye,” he said, his words falling rough and heated. Then he rolled on top of her, kissing down her neck to the soft skin of her shoulder.
A sharp pain rattled through his ribs from the effort of holding himself above her, and when he tried to lower himself and rest some of his weight on her, a burning throb flew through the bruise on his side. He fell back to his side with anooof.
“See! I told you so,” she chided, but her words were slightly breathless.
“It’ll take a lot more than a wee scratch to stop me from loving you, mo chridhe.” He began pulling up the fabric of her dress, nudging at her hips to lift. The look she shot him was pure chastisement, but she complied, shimmying out of the thin garment.
He grinned at her, and her lips flattened. She was trying so endearingly hard to be cross with him. “There is one thing I can’t do myself. At least not without hurting myself…”
She blinked at him. A saucy,you are insufferableblink. He loved it.
“By chance, love, would ye help me remove my trousers?”
She snorted, loud and inelegant, ending with a scoff. “Oh, of course. Woe is me. I am so grievously wounded that I cannot possibly disrobe myself. Pray, fair maiden, ease my suffering and assist me in this dreadful plight.”
A rumbling laugh burst from him, quickly turning into a wheeze as he tried to contain the laughter, causing pain to ripple through his frame. This woman. He darted forward and pressed a hard kiss to her lips.
Her brows pinched, and she hesitated, stilled. “Malcolm, I think this is a horrible idea. You cannot even laugh without causing yourself pain.”
He smoothed the small furrow between her light brows. “Trust me, mo chridhe. Take off my bloody trousers and let me love you.”
Her mouth twisted, and she shot him a last skeptical glance before she divested him of his trousers.
“Aye, that’s a good lass. Now get that sweet bottom of yers nestled up against me.”
Pink dotted her high cheekbones, and she tucked her chin in. Bloody hell, he’d never tire of her blushes.
He chuckled—as softly as he was able—and pulled her into him, back flush against his chest, bottom tucked against his hips, legs tangling with his. He let out a soft moan and buried his head in her rose-gold tresses. She smelled as sweet as a field of heather. Her skin as soft as wildflower petals.
Malcolm nuzzled her neck, encouraging her to stretch away from him, and painted open-mouthed kisses up and down her neck. He flattened his hand over her stomach, spreading his fingers, reveling in how he nearly spanned her hip to hip. His tongue flicked out to trail over the column of her neck, and her breath caught.
He moved to cup her breast, his thumb coasting over the gentle slope. He leisurely rolled her nipple in his palm—knowing how the roughness of his callouses would affect her. Her breath hitched, and he continued his torturous assault on her skin with his lips and tongue. He’d feast on her forever if she’d allow it. He didn’t need anything but her skin for sustenance, her pleasure for survival.
She began squirming under his touch, grinding her bottom back into him. His teeth grazed over her and nipped at the shell of her ear.
“Ye like that, lass?” he whispered. “Can ye feel it? Deep in your core. When I do this?” He pinched her nipples lightly, and a whimpered cry burst from her, her entire body shuddering against him.
“Mmmm,” he hummed. “Such sweet sounds ye make for me. Those soft whimpers of want.”
He ran his nose down her neck, inhaling deep, drawing in the delicious scent of heated skin and soft florals and something that was uniquely her. All the while, his fingers played her, rolling and pinching and teasing. Faint cries pulled from her throat, more frequent now, her hips more frenzied. Lord, if she kept rocking against him like that, he’d be in danger of coming all over that perfect arse. His hips bucked of their own accord. Because by God, was that an image. One he’d be making happen tonight.
Och, he couldn’t tease any longer. The desire was building too fast, too dangerous. He gripped her thigh and pulled it up and over his leg, opening her to him.
