When he kissed her, it was hungry, desperate, the kind of kiss that stole air and reason both. She caught his shirt in her fists, pulling him closer, tasting the warmth of him, the faint trace of wine on his breath. Every sense sharpened—the scrape of his stubble against her skin, the heat of his hand at her back, the soft sound that escaped her throat when he deepened the kiss.
She had thought she remembered what it felt like, but this was worse—better—because now she knew exactly how dangerous it was and still she couldn’t stop.
Aidan pressed her gently against the wall, his forehead against hers, both of them breathing hard. The air between them was thick with the scent of rain and smoke and the faint sweetness of her hair.
“Christ, Catherine,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Ye dinnae ken what ye dae tae me.”
Her pulse jumped. “Maybe I dae.”
He laughed softly, a sound low and disbelieving, before kissing her again. This one was slower, deeper, a careful claiming that made her knees weak. His hand slid upward, tracing the line ofher spine through the thin fabric of her shift. Every inch of her felt alive, every nerve aware of the nearness of him.
When she swayed, he caught her with a quiet sound in his throat, his hands finding her hips, his thumbs pressing lightly into the soft fabric. The small motion drew a shiver from her; her breath came faster. Before she could think, his strength closed around her and he lifted her clean off the floor. A startled sound left her lips as her hands flew to his shoulders. Her legs, guided by instinct rather than thought, curled around him.
The world tilted. The air between them was filled with the sound of their breathing, uneven and hungry. He carried her the few steps to the bed, his gaze never leaving hers, the firelight gilding the planes of his face.
When he set her down, he didn’t move away. His palms framed her knees, his thumbs tracing the edge of the linen. For a heartbeat they simply stared—her chest rising fast, his eyes dark and questioning.
He searched her face, silent but asking, and she understood. Her nod was small but sure, her lips parting on a breath that trembled.
Then he bent to her again. The kiss that followed was long and unbroken, deep enough to steal every thought from her head. His mouth moved from her lips to her cheek, to the hollow just below her ear, the slow path of it scattering her composure. When he found the curve of her throat she gasped softly, her fingers tangling in his hair.
With a low groan, he moved lower. He slid his hands beneath the hem of her dress, gathering the fabric as he raised the linen up and over her hips. His hands were rough and warm against the bare skin of her legs. He knelt before her, his gaze hot as it roamed over her, finally settling in between her thighs. Then, with a breath that trembled between them, he lowered his head between her thighs, and every thought she had scattered like sparks in the dark.
The first contact of his mouth sent a shock of sharp, desperate pleasure straight through the core of her. Catherine gasped aloud, her hands instinctively flying upward, blindly scrabbling for purchase as her fingers twisted themselves into the sheets beneath. His hands moved from the sheets to her hips, gripping her, holding her steady as his mouth claimed her. It was a deliberate, thorough conquest. She felt the hot, wet velvet of his tongue, the agonizingly light scrape of his stubble against her softest skin, the insistent, rhythmic pull of his lips.
He explored her with a devastating focus, tracing every fold, tasting her deepest. Each stroke was a fresh wave of heat, a new spark, a consuming fire, and she felt it begin to climb, swiftly and surely, as Aidan worshipped her with a relentless, fierce devotion. A low sound, half-sob, half-plea, tore from her throat. His only answer was a low growl as his hands tightened on her, his thumbs pressing into the muscle of her thighs, holding her open for his tongue, never breaking the mesmerizing, maddening rhythm he had established. It was a complete, focused assault on her senses that tightened every single muscle in her body.
“God, Catherine. Ye’re ruinin’ me,” Aidan breathed against her skin, the words vibrating through her entire body, a possessive, devastating rumble that sent a fresh shockwave of pleasure through her.
He sensed the final, desperate shift in her, and his tongue pressed harder, faster, a merciless, knowing stroke right at her center.
She couldn’t take it anymore; her spine arched off the bed, a strangled sound tearing from her throat as the building pressure became an unbearable ache. She broke, feeling the desperate, ragged cry of his name tear from her lips as, in one blinding, shattering moment, pleasure seized her, hot and violent, making her body convulse against his mouth.
She was still trembling, her breath coming in painful sobs, when she felt him move. He shifted, his large body covering hers, collapsing over her to press his face into the curve of her neck, his breath ragged and hot against her skin. She could taste her own release on his lips as he kissed her. Neither spoke. There were no words for this—for the way his heartbeat thundered against her chest, for the way her fingers still trembled where they traced his spine.
But beneath the quiet, she felt the tremor in him and knew that they’d crossed a line neither of them could return from.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The pale morning light slanted through the windows. Aidan lay awake, eyes open to the dim ceiling, though he had not truly slept at all.
Catherine’s breathing filled the quiet. Soft, steady, a rhythm that seemed to mock the chaos in his chest. She was curled toward him beneath the tangled sheet, auburn hair spilling across the pillow. He had never seen her so still, without that stubborn tilt of her chin, the defiance that always met him halfway between fury and fire. Now she looked younger, almost untouched by the world that had tried to claim her.
He told himself to look away but couldn't. His hand hovered for a moment before he let it rest lightly against the curve of her shoulder. Warmth. The living proof of everything he’d sworn he’d never take. His throat tightened as he looked at her face, the faint line of her mouth still marked by last night’s kisses, her lashes trembling with dreams he could only imagine.
He shouldn’t have kept her here. Shouldn’t have let himself reach for her again after swearing he wouldn’t. But he could still taste her on his lips, still hear her voice breaking against his name. Every rule he’d set had shattered in her hands, and all that remained was that—quiet, impossible peace wrapped in sin.
Aidan drew a breath that didn’t steady him. Guilt sat in his chest like armor he couldn’t shed. For the first time in years, he didn’t know whether to thank God or curse Him.
He pushed the thought away. Carefully, he shifted from the bed, planting one foot to the floor, his movements controlled so as not to wake her. The air was cool, biting against his bare back as he reached for his shirt from the chair. He glanced at her one last time before pulling it over his head.
She stirred faintly when he leaned close again. Not enough to wake, just enough that she breathed his name in her sleep, barely a whisper, like a secret that shouldn’t exist.
Aidan froze. His hand lingered above her for a heartbeat, and then he gave in to the smallest weakness he’d allow himself. A single kiss to her forehead. A promise he’d never speak aloud.
Then, he straightened, jaw tight, and left the chamber before the morning could betray him.
Outside, the world was still half-dark. Mist hung low over the hills, curling around the watchtowers like smoke. The scent of pine and wet earth filled his lungs as he crossed the courtyard,where the men were already gathering for patrol. Horses snorted in the chill, their breath clouding the air.
