Laoghaire glanced at Galen’s powerful hand, the fingers well shaped, the nails clean. A warrior’s hand, it was sun-bronzed and callused, and for some reason that she could not quite comprehend, the fact that it was thrilled her immensely.
He will soon touch me with that same hand, she marveled, filled with a sense of wondrous excitement.
Ready now to embark on the journey, Laoghaire wordlessly slipped her hand into Galen’s. His hand closed gently but firmly around hers as he ushered her to the fur-lined mantle that she’d earlier placed upon the ground. Her heart hammering in her ears, she situated herself upon their makeshift bed.
Peering up at Galen, she watched him grasp the hem of his undertunic and pull it over his head. After negligently tossing it aside, he untied his braies.
Laoghaire’s breath hitched.
Have I ever seen a man so flawlessly fashioned?
Brawny and beautiful, Galen unabashedly stood before her in all of his manly glory. Moreover, his skin was gilded by the firelight; that same light enabling Laoghaire to see each and every scar and welt, the remnants of battles fought and tournaments won. Overwhelmed by his virility, she was also drawn to it, as though there were an unseen yet palpable force vibrating between them.
With what could only be called a forthright intensity, Galen stared at her, his gaze moving from her face down the length of her neck, lingering for a moment on the rise and fall of her breasts, before dropping down to her two bare feet peeking from beneath the hem of her chemise. Laoghaire drew a deep breath. Somehow, without even touching her, Galen managed to incite a myriad of changes within her body, her nipples hardening, her pulse quickening, and a seductive warmth coiling low in her belly.
Beset with a virgin’s natural curiosity, her gaze traveled from Galen’s muscular torso to the dense growth of black hair at the juncture between his legs. Awestruck, she stared blatantly at his manhood. The thick and heavily veined organ that proudly thrust upward from that patch of hair was a potent reminder that they were constructed differently, each fashioned so that one would perfectly fit into the other. And though she was unsure of the details, she’d heard rumors that such a design could bring pleasure to them both.
Aroused by that tantalizing thought, Laoghaire’s body began to flush, the warmth moving upwards along her spine. Her earlier embarrassment now trumped by a passionate heat, she scrambled onto her knees. Not giving herself time to reconsider her actions, she bunched the folds of her chemise in her hands and pulled the voluminous garment over her head.
As Galen’s gaze swept over her naked body, his eyes glittered with a sensual promise. Empowered by that searing appraisal, Laoghaire extended an arm in his direction, silently bidding him to join her.
His movements lithe and strangely graceful, Galen knelt across from her. Neither spoke. It was as if they both knew that to do so would break the ephemeral lovers’ spell that had been cast upon them. Caressing him with her eyes, Laoghaire’s gaze drifted across the planes of Galen’s face, discovering anew each and every feature of his staggeringly handsome face.The broad forehead. The noble nose. The prominent cheekbones. The firm, manly lips.Lastly, her gaze settled on the jagged scar that bisected his left cheek.
Slowly, barely making contact with Galen’s skin, Laoghaire traced the discolored welt with the tip of her forefinger. There was a time when she reveled in the knowledge that it was her brother, the laird of Clan MacKinnon, who’d put his mark upon her husband’s face. Now the sight of that marred flesh elicited a different reaction entirely.
Determined to put her own mark upon him, Laoghaire leaned toward Galen and, very gently, she placed her lips upon his scar.
It was no more than a whisper of a kiss. And though he remained motionless, when she pulled her head back, Laoghaire was startled to see Galen peer intently at her from beneath heavy lids, his unblinking expression so compelling that she swayed slightly.
Wrapping a steadying arm around her waist, Galen slowly pulled her toward him. When her bare breasts came into contact with his naked body, she heard the breath catch in his throat. Or maybe it was her own breath that she heard, for she was barely able to stifle a whimper of pleasure as her distended nipples bore into the muscles of his chest and she felt his fully erect member prod brazenly against her belly. In that charged moment, she sensed that Galen wanted to kiss her.
Without thinking, Laoghaire moistened her lips with her tongue.
“Is that an invitation?” Galen asked in a noticeably husky voice.
She nodded her assent. In truth, she was so keen for that very thing that had he not asked, she would have wrapped her arms around his neck and initiated the kiss herself.
Her consent obtained, Galen angled his head to one side. Leaning toward her, he covered her mouth with his own. Like a master craftsman, he used his lips and tongue with a devastating expertise, ably awakening within her feelings so vibrant, so powerful, she experienced yet another heated rush. But this time the warmth was centered in her pelvic region. Even more arousing, the inner fire began to pulsate, radiating outward in tight ripples.
Moaning softly, Laoghaire parted her mouth. Quick to seize his chance, Galen thrust his tongue between her lips, titillating her with playful darts and more sensuous entwinings. When he cupped her breast and began to rub his thumb back and forth over her nipple, she felt the blood surge wildly through her body. Acting purely on womanly instinct, she grabbed hold of Galen by the biceps as she pressed herself more fully against the palm of his hand. He groaned into her mouth, while his other hand found its way to her buttocks, enabling him to hold her firmly in place as he brazenly rocked his hips against hers.
Long moments passed before they finally pulled apart. In the wake of that shattering kiss, both of them trembled.
“God’s heart, your lips are a sweet morsel,” Galen rasped, his thin nostrils flared like a stallion’s. “But I crave a more exotic delicacy.”
Wondering what he could possibly mean by that, Laoghaire offered no protest as Galen urged her to lie back and place her head upon his folded cloak. Once she had comfortably situated herself, he proceeded to leave a trail of warm kisses along her jaw before he nibbled softly on her earlobe. His mouth then roamed lower, blazing its way along her neck. When he took a rigid nipple into his mouth and laved it with his tongue, she shuddered in response. But evidently that was not the “morsel” he sought, for his lips continued to move down the length of her body.
Without warning, Galen slid a hand between her legs and pried them apart. When he suddenly insinuated himself between her splayed thighs, she began to squirm uneasily, startled at having his broad shoulders wedged between her legs.
“Ye mustn’t do that,” she protested, as she tried to wiggle free.
Galen easily held her in place, his heavily muscled arms pressing into her upper thighs. “But I am hungry and a lovely feast awaits me,” he crooned. As he spoke, his warm breath fanned her inner folds.
Sweet Mary!
At feeling that heated warmth against her exposed, sensitive skin, her entire body began to tingle with excitement. Now, instead of trying to squirm free of Galen, she unthinkingly arched her hips in his direction.
Bracing his hands on either side of her woman’s mound, Galen very gently strummed the tip of one blunt finger along the moistened slit just before he set his mouth upon her. Stunned by the bold caress—which was akin to tossing spirits on an already raging fire—Laoghaire gasped aloud.
