He pulled his mouth from hers. “Get away dog. Go! Lay down!”
Then his mouth was on hers again, softer this time but still greedy with hunger. He released his hold on her hair and cupped the back of her head. Some deep place between her legs ached and she moved closer to him, her chest against his, and she had to tighten her hold onto him lest she fall apart and break into a thousand pieces.
To feel powerless, swept away by feelings she never had and could not control was too much for her and she felt the swell of tears in her tight throat and the backs of her eyes. Then her traitorous body had completely forsaken her, squirming, needing with a sense of desperation to move against his, and reacting in all ways foreign to her. She was on fire, wanting a touch she had never had and not known she could want, between her legs, in a place where before now there had been nothing, not even a ripple of need.
Secretly, she had thought herself immune to romance, to a woman’s need for a man, for his touch, and for coupling.
He was right. She did want this.
His lips left her mouth to slash hungrily across her cheek toher ear, and she moaned, wanting his kiss again, wanting the feel of tongue on hers, wanting his passion and his taste.
“You do want this. You want me,” he said over and over as he kissed her and touched her whole body with his roving hands, her legs and arms, her breast and throat, hands that wickedly knew where she wanted his touch, lifting and turning her at one point, then he pulled her legs up to his waist, pressing her against the hard length of him, rocking her until her body melted and was answering his rhythm instinctively.
It took a moment before she realized he had pulled her tunic over her head and that was only because his words changed from soft caresses to curses at the cloth bindings he had demanded so passionately that she wear beneath.
In the next moment, she heard the sound of renting linen as he ripped free her breasts and pressed one upward, his head bent as he took it into his mouth, his tongue playing again. Desire so strong she cried out his name swept through her and she pressed her hips down on him, wanting more, needing more, so much more.
He slid down from the saddle, his arm clamping her against him and he carried her--feet dangling off the ground, him still suckling her—over to the trees and backed her against one with his knee and body. His mouth moved to her other breast and his hand finally lifted and cupped her possessively through the crotch in her trouse, one long finger rubbing the rough cloth between her legs. He did not stop, over and over, and she moaned, rising a little with each stroke. When her breath was out of control and her need almost too much to bear, he took her hand and pressed her palm to him. He taught her his need with his hand over hers, up and down, showing her what he wanted while his touch and the rough cloth took her higher and higher.
She was blinded by feeling, and though her eyes were open, she could not see anything and found she was capable of naught but a single sense: she could only feel, and she was flying, soaringlike a hawk in the stormy skies, and her whole body raced and raced toward the heavens, feeling lighter and as if she were going so high she would shatter among the stars.
And she did.
Lyall was mad,completely, absolutely mad, insane, knocked senseless by the fall in Steering mad. Or he had somehow in the past three days turned into a formless being driven into idiocy by his cock. Her soft, sweet cry of ecstasy was like a bucket of cold water over him, and he tried to catch his shallow, panting breath, all the while staring painfully down at her awe- and passion- washed face, at her flushed skin bright with satisfaction from the upturned, sweet pink tips of her bared breasts to her glistening, kiss-swollen lips.
The sweet, salty, and smoky taste of her, the lingering taste of the sea on her skin and the smoked fish in her mouth was still on his tongue, driving him secretly insane and he wanted nothing more than to take her there against the tree. His lack of control scared him. His hands shook slightly when he stepped back away from the tree and eased her down until her feet were on solid ground.
Her eyes were the color of coal they were so dark, now rimmed in moisture and glowing from pleasure. The soft, sweet, unguarded way she looked at him then, with something akin to her heart in her eyes, touched him in a place where he was most vulnerable, a place he hid from all and told himself did not exist…could not exist, not ever again.
He turned his back to her, his brain hot and feeling as if his head was going to blow off.
She should hate him. He needed her to hate him. Eventually, she would hate him. That was inevitable.
He stepped farther away and drove his hand through his hair,frustrated and trying to find a way to fix what he had just done, find some way to change the bewitched look in her eyes.
At that moment the rain began to fall cool and wet against his own hot and flushed skin. He looked up at the dark sky, half expecting a lightning bolt to come down and drive clean through his black heart.
But there was only the rain dripping through the trees.
She stood there, unmoving, looking at him in a way that made his man’s pride almost want to take her to pleasure again. He reached out and pulled her under the shelter of the trees, releasing her arm as quickly as if burned before he stepped back and away from her, putting a safer distance between them.
“Glenna,” he said gently. “I should not have done that to you.”
“Why?”
Frowning, he looked at her. He had not expected such a blunt question. “Why did I do it? The truth is that I wanted to punish you for disobeying me. I wanted to frighten you. The kiss was…natural. It came without thought or reason.”
Her expression did not change.
“I cannot explain the way a man thinks, or acts when his blood boils. I can only say that what happened between us a few moment ago went much too far.” He paused. “And I am sorry for that. ‘Tis my doing. ‘Tis my err.”
She was quiet for a moment, before she laughed at him, which made little sense. He expected her to lash out at him, to call him the fiend he felt he was.
Where was the storm he expected from her?
God’s teeth but the woman looked pleased. He began to pace.
“You are a foolish man,” she said not unkindly and half laughing again. “Notwhydid you kiss me. Why are you begging for forgiveness?”
