Elizabet stared into his eyes, her heart hammering insistently now. She understood what he wanted from her, and she wanted to give it to him—she truly did. But she was afraid. And she hadn’t the first notion of how to remove the garment he was wrapped in. She tugged on it, then hesitated, and he smiled at her in approval.
“That’s it,” he said, as his hand moved down to his belt, and he began to unfasten it, watching her, the look in his eyes intense.
His gaze alone left her quivering.
He unfastened the belt and tossed it aside.
As she lay there, anticipating him, her breasts began to ache, and her body warmed.
“Do you know what I want, lass?”
Elizabet nodded jerkily, her body trembling slightly.
He hesitated and then asked, “Do ye wish me to stop?”
She shook her head, absolutely certain that was not what she wanted. Jesu, but if he left her now, she thought she would die.
She wanted him to mean everything he said to her, wanted him to want her, wanted him to love her. No man had ever reached past her defenses and made her feel the things he made her feel.
Her fingers trembled as she gripped his sash, but her heart pounded like a drumbeat in her ears.
Elizabet tugged at his garment, but she couldn’t do it, didn’t know how to undress him.
But she knew how to undress herself.
Taking a deep breath for courage, she let her hand fall from the sash to her bosom. Without the undertunic beneath, all she needed to do was pull the surcoat aside and reveal herself to him.
That brazen gesture was sure to tell him all he needed to know. His gaze followed her hand down, and his expression fell with disappointment for the briefest instant until she caught hold of her dress. She clasped it firmly, her fingernails digging into the velvety garment until she could feel them like claws against her palm. He swallowed. She could see the knob in his throat rise, then fall, and she reveled in the power she seemed suddenly to have over him.
Her breasts arched toward him of their own accord, her body responding in some instinctive way. He never even blinked but seemed to be waiting eagerly to see what she would do. With a soft gasp, she drew the gown aside, watching his expression closely.
He sucked in a breath at what she revealed to him, and she smiled timidly.
As though to compose himself, he closed his eyes and swallowed hard. When he opened them again, hisface was flushed and his desire was writ plainly in his features. But he didn’t move to touch her.
Emboldened by the look on his face, she dared to take her breast fully into her hand, and she began to caress it slowly while he watched, tempting him to touch her, pleading without words.
“Och, lass,” he said, and growled softly then, reaching out to cover her hand with his own, joining the erotic caress of her flesh. His touch further emboldened her, and she smiled up at him, moaning softly as their hands jointly stroked her body. He pushed her hand away suddenly, exposing her to his eyes once more.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, and bent to touch his tongue to her nipple, tugging it gently into his mouth.
Elizabet gasped in pleasure, her hand falling helplessly at her side while he suckled at her bosom. His expression alone sent her senses reeling. His face, shadowed on one side and lit on the other by golden light, was more beautiful in that moment than she could have ever imagined. No artist could have painted the intensity of that expression. No brush could have revealed the glimmer in his hair. No words could have expressed the passion depicted upon his face. One hand cupped the side of her breast, scarce touching it, while he suckled with eyes closed, seeming to draw from her body his manna.
She could do nothing but watch... and cry out in pleasure.
CHAPTER 20
Broc had never wanted to please a woman more than he yearned to please her. He wanted to possess her body and soul. She was the most beautiful thing ever to come into his life, and he didn’t want to think of what it would be like returning to a life without her.
If only for tonight, he wanted to imagine she was his... would be his until he took his dying breath.
He suckled her beautiful breasts, imagining his future bairns nourished there. He would die a happy man if he could hold her this close every night for the rest of his given days. He would do anything to please her, never let harm come to her, cherish her always.
His heart had nearly burst through his ribs when she bared herself to him so artlessly and then arched her breasts seductively toward his hungering lips.
He divested himself of his dress while he suckled her, wanting to give her time to object. If she would deny him; he wanted to hear it now, before it was too late. He wanted her to know his desires, wanted her to see what she’d done to him—what she continued to do to him with the simple sound of her voice... a mere glance...
The scent of her skin was driving him mad. His body was hard, hungry.
