He tipped her unceremoniously off him and clambered to his feet, extending his hand to help her up. She took it, and he hauled her against him somewhat roughly.
In a flash, he was right in front of her, close enough that she could feel the heat coming off his skin like a furnace. She could see where the damp cloth clung to the swell of his chest, shifting with his breath.
Her skin felt too tight. Her breathing was labored, even though she wasnotout of breath.
“Why must ye tempt me so, false bride?” he whispered. Lifting his hand, his fingertips grazed the corner of her jaw.
It would have been the easiest thing in the world to turn her head to one side. She could have stepped away, stepped back. He wasn’t touching her, except for that one place where his fingers touched her cheek, and that one point of contact felt like a fire.
She did nothing. She did not move away. She couldn’t evenlookaway, not with his eyes fixed so intently on hers.
“Ye ken, ye stare at a man as if ye are lookin’ straight into his soul,” he murmured. “Has anyone ever told ye that?”
She lifted her chin. “Aye, actually. Eyes like gimlets, one man said.”
“Ah, he was a foolish man nae to appreciate that sharp gaze of yers,” he said, grinning.
She tilted her head, tentatively lifting her hand to run her fingers over the back of his hand. His hands were large, strong, and veined. Much larger than hers. She felt as if she wanted to flatten out her hand over his, to see the difference in their sizes. His pupils flared at the contact, and the ache in her gut intensified. “I might argue thatyewere the fool for enjoyin’ me sharp gaze so much.”
“Iwasthe fool?” he countered. “Yer tense is all wrong, lass. Iama fool, because I am still enjoyin’ it.”
Then he kissed her.
Megan had never been kissed before. It wasn’t something she’d really thought about much.
His lips fit against hers perfectly, heat surging through her face and down her throat as if he had passed a ball of fire from his mouth to hers.
One of his hands cupped her cheek, warm and rough, and his other arm wound around her waist, pulling her flush against him. He was sowarm—and damp, but that didn’t seem to matter—and it sent a thrill of desire rushing through her. She grabbed at his shoulders, letting out a shaky gasp against his lips.
They broke apart, and Megan gasped again, finding that her knees had gone wobbly. She clung to him and saw that she did not want the kiss to end at all. So, she surged up on her tiptoes, still hanging onto his shoulders, and kissed him again.
He tightened his grip around her waist, hauling her up against him. The tip of his tongue swept against the seam of her lips, and she gave a ragged breath. Heat pulsed down into the pit of her stomach, a pulsing wanting that clung onto her and would not let go. The pulsing dropped between her legs, insistent when he tightened his grip on her waist—not enough to crush the breath out of her body, but enough to press her against him.
She wanted to feel his skin against hers, hot and sticky. She wanted to pull off that thin, translucent shirt from his skin. She could do it too. His collar was just there, and she could grab itand pull with all her strength. It would tear, but her intentions would be made clear, and…
Intentions?
A pang of ice-cold fear shot through her, effectively cooling her desire.
What am I doin’? I cannae do this. This is only temporary. Ye are goin’ to leave this place, and him, and have a life beyond the walls of MacCulloch Keep.
I cannae be doin’ this now. This is a mistake. A mistake. A mistake!
Her eyes opened, although her vision blurred.
It struck Megan at that moment that this was her first kiss. Her first kiss, and it sent such powerful waves of desire flying down her spine that she could hardly stand. How could she expect any other kiss, any other person, to make her feel the same way?
It’s all him. It’s because I desire him and dislike him in the same breath. I cannae let this go any further. Why have I let it go this far already?
All these words, and yet she couldn’t convince her own body to act. With a gasp, Megan put her hands against Ryder’s firm chest and pushed.
He released her, and she landed heavily on her feet, staggering backward.
A gulf seemed to open up between them. They stared at each other. Megan was aware that she was bright red, the blush creeping down her neck. She knew that when she blushed, it delved down across her body, blooming over her chest. Ryder’s gaze dropped from her eyes to her collarbone, as if he could see the blush there, spreading under her clothing.
He was not red-faced. In fact, he looked cool and collected. Water streamed down his face, his hair plastered to his scalp. He was breathing fast; however, his chest was rising and falling. He was watching her, just watching, waiting for her to speak. Megan knew then that she was the one who would have to break the silence, or else it would never be broken at all.
“One day,” she said, her voice cracking, “I’ll have a real betrothed. Me sisters have many connections, and they want me to get married. I’m nae a romantic person, but I imagine that I’ll feel enough for me betrothed when I meet him. And when I do meet them, I cannae have this on me conscience.”
