“I am touchin’ ye.”
“Ye ken what I mean!”
His laugh was pure sin. “Aye, I dae. But I want tae hear me proper Highland lady ask fer improper things.”
“Ye’re terrible.”
“I’m patient.” His thumb stroked higher, brushing against the edge of her smallclothes. “And I’ll stay right here, touchin’ ye like this, until ye tell me exactly what ye want.”
She was going to murder him. Or kiss him. Possibly both.
“I want…” The words caught, shame and desire warring in her chest. “I want ye tae touch me there. Where ye’re nae touchin’ me now. Please.”
“There?” His fingers brushed against her through the linen, and even that slight contact made her gasp.
“Aye.” The word came out on a moan. “Aye, that’s—och…”
He’d slipped his hand beneath the fabric, callused fingers finding slick heat that made him groan low in his throat. “Ach, Claricia… Ye’re so wet fer me.”
She buried her face in his neck, embarrassed and overwhelmed and wanting more all at once. His fingers explored with confident gentleness, learning what made her gasp, what made her squirm, what made her dig her nails into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks.
His finger circled that sensitive bundle of nerves she’d barely known existed, and sparks shot through her entire body. “That’s it,” he murmured, watching her face like he was memorizing every expression. “Let yerself feel it.”
“I… och… I…” The admission came in gasps as his fingers worked magic she’d never imagined. “Erik, I dinnae ken?—”
He kissed her softly even as his fingers moved faster, more deliberately. “Trust me.”
One finger slid inside her—careful, shallow, testing. Claricia’s hips bucked against his hand, seeking more pressure, more friction, more of whatever that building sensation was that felt like dying and being born all at once.
Och fer the love of all that is holy… what is happenin’ tae me?
She was burning. Coming apart. Flying toward something just out of reach that she needed more than air. His thumb pressedagainst that sensitive nub while his finger moved inside her, and suddenly she was shattering—waves of sensation crashing over her so intense she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only feel, as pleasure rolled through her in devastating pulses.
“Erik!?” His name tore from her throat, half sob, half prayer.
His good arm came around her waist, holding her steady as she trembled against him. “I’ve got ye.”
She collapsed against his chest as her first orgasm ripped through her, leaving her boneless and breathless and utterly undone. His hand withdrew from beneath her skirts, and she felt him press a kiss to her hair, then her temple, then her cheek—gentle touches that grounded her as she slowly returned to herself.
“That was…” She couldn’t find words. Couldn’t think past the languid warmth spreading through her limbs.
“Breathtakin’.” Erik’s voice held wonder. “Yewere breathtakin’.” He tipped her face up, kissed her softly.
Reality began filtering back in—what they’d done, how wanton she’d been, the way she’d practically begged him. Embarrassment flooded her cheeks.
“Dinnae.” He caught her chin when she tried to look away. “Dinnae be ashamed.”
“I just… I’ve never…” She gestured helplessly. “I didnae imagine?—”
“It can beeven better.” His thumb traced her lower lip. “When we’re both ready fer more.”
The promise in those words made heat pool low in her belly again despite the satisfaction still humming through her. “And ye?”
She could feel the evidence of his desire pressed against her thigh, hard and insistent.
“Och, I dae. I want ye.” His laugh was strained. “But taenight was fer ye. Fer showin’ ye that I can put yer pleasure afore me own. That when we finally join properly, it’ll be because ye’re ready. Nae because I couldnae wait.”
The selflessness of it made her throat tight. “Who would’ve thought. The Wolfcanbe gentle.”
