‘Headstrong. Stubborn. Intelligent. Questioning. I cannot imagine that you sprang from Euan Cameron’s loins,’ he said. Then he shook his head. ‘Nay, I cannot say that’s true. I think you are exactly the same as him. Though I suspect the questioning part came from your mother.’
She laughed then, for she remembered times when her father had cursed at her for some infraction or another with just those words. ‘I tried his patience. I suspect that is not done yet.’
He took her hand in his and entwined their fingers—he seemed to like to do that. Then he kissed her hand. ‘Aye, lass, I suspect you will try him in the coming weeks.’
They lay in silence just like that, touching, barely, but closer than she’d ever been to a man. It hurt to know that, come morning and over the next days, their lives would separate. And he would probably not forgive her for helping her cousin. He might understand her actions but forgiveness was another matter.
‘So, you have avoided my question.’ She glanced down at his cock when she continued. ‘What ways do you wish to have me?’
Arabella could not help but smile as his body reacted to her purposeful tease. And it did, filling and standing out from the rest of his body. His eyes turned fierce then and her own body flushed with heat. Her breasts swelled and the nipples tightened.
‘I will tell you, Arabella, just how I would like to have you,’ he said, leaning closer to her.
Then he whispered scandalous things to her, about how he would join with her, where he would touch her, how their bodies would pleasure each other. His words were so vibrant and enticing that her body readied itself for him, shocking her as that place within her woman’s flesh moistened and ached and throbbed. She wanted him. She wanted him to do all of these things to her. She wanted to touch him.
Finally she reached out and wrapped her fingers around his firm flesh as he had shown her before. His face grew intense and dark and he hissed as she slid her hand downwards to the base and then the rest of him she found there.
What began as her curiosity and desire to learn his body, turned into something different as Brodie reciprocated, touching her as she did him. Whether her mouth or her breasts or legs or the place between her legs, he drove her to madness even as she drove him. But, there was still one question in her mind before she relinquished herself to pleasure. Something she did not understand.
‘How could I ride you?’ she asked, breathless from the way she shivered and trembled as he pushed her towards that moment of dissolution she knew awaited her.
‘Lass,’ he whispered, shaking his head. ‘You are too sore.’
She might be, but right now her flesh ached for him to fill her. Ached for them to join. Ached to find release when he did within her. ‘Show me.’
If her voice quivered or if she sounded too demanding, she cared not. If her behaviour was not what was expected of a lady, of a Cameron, it bothered her not. The only thing that would bother her was if she’d shocked Brodie. When he reached for her waist and guided her up and over him, she knew he was not shocked.
‘If this hurts, you must tell me, Arabella.’ She worried her lip and nodded. He told her to kneel over his hips and she did so, the position very similar to sitting on a horse. His flesh rubbed between her legs when she lowered herself to him.
He pulled her down to him and they lay breasts to chest and hips to hips. As he kissed her, her hair fell around them like a curtain meant to keep the world away. Leaning over him, kissing him and feeling his hands kneading her legs and bottom, she rubbed her sensitive flesh against the ridge of his, sliding along it.
‘Now, ride me, lass,’ he said. Arabella sat back and slid down the length of him. ‘At your own pace.’
She closed her eyes and took him in, inch by inch, gasp by gasp, never dreaming that something like this would be so...decadent and pleasurable. When she looked down at him, his gaze was filled with concern as she moved on him. Then that expression changed and he held her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh as though to both hold her still and move her faster.
Soon, he drove deeper and deeper within her and her body prepared for that release she knew he would bring to her. He touched her everywhere, able to reach because she sat above him, and when he found that small spot near where he entered her, he stroked it, faster and faster, harder and harder until her body let go.
Then, he sat up, wrapping his arms around her as he turned them over. He was already deep but now he thrust even deeper, joining them and stroking the folds of her flesh until she cried out. He lifted almost out of her and then plunged to fill her completely and find his own release.
Only the sounds of their breathing filled the cave. At first, she could not even tell whose was whose. Shallow panting turned into deeper, laboured breaths and then slow, regular inhalations. Her body had lost its spine and she lay under him barely able to move. Brodie eased off her, but kept hold of her with his arm across her stomach.
Time passed as they lay together, touched and touching, exhausted and satisfied. Somehow she knew she would never find this kind of trust and sense of wild abandon with any other man. And when morning’s grey light entered through the edges of the canvas flap, Arabella knew it was over.
* * *
When the whispers began outside, she knew they’d discovered Alan missing. When more footsteps paced along the path leading to the cave, she knew they wanted to call for Brodie, but dared not. But instead of waking him, she slid closer to him and smiled when he wrapped himself around her and slept even deeper.
Another hour would not matter—if Alan had escaped the camp’s guards, no one would find him now. So she selfishly held on to him until the last possible moment.
Chapter Eighteen
‘Brodie.’
He heard her whisper his name, but did not wish to open his eyes and bring this night to a close. Even the light he could see through his lids did not push him to accept the reality that day was here already. And that they were done.
‘Brodie,’ Arabella whispered once more. ‘You must wake now.’
‘Och, lass,’ he whispered as he slid his arms around her and pulled her on top of him. ‘I do not think I can pleasure you again. A man must have some rest,’ he teased, knowing well that his body would ready itself if she gave a word or sign to him.
