He kissed her as though he had been waiting years for this moment. He worshiped her body as if it were a holy relic, sacred and life-giving.
Layers fell away. Their shoes were discarded. Caden undid the laces of her bodice and corset, each touch slow and certain, learned through longing rather than habit.
Ava pressed her forehead against his, breathless. “Ye’re here,” she whispered.
“Aye,” he said. “I’m here, and I will never let ye go. Ye’re mine. Always and forever mine.”
Ava surged forward, kissing him hard—mouth open, demanding, months of frustration poured into the press of her lips against his.
Caden groaned, the sound deep and pained, his hands sliding into her hair as though he might lose her again if he did not hold her tight enough.
“God,” he breathed against her mouth. “I’ve wanted this—wanted ye—every night ye slept under this roof.”
“Then why did ye stay away?” she whispered, her teeth grazing his lower lip.
“Because I didnae trust meself to stop.”
She felt it then—how tightly he held himself in check, how carefully he touched her, as though reverence and desire were at war in his hands.
Caden gently laid her back on the desk. Her skirts pooled around her, the firelight painting her skin gold. He kissed her throat, her collarbone, each touch lingering, reverent, devastatingly intimate.
“Ye’re everything,” he murmured. “Everything I didnae ken I needed.”
Her hands slid beneath his tunic, feeling muscle and warmth and the unmistakable truth of how badly he wanted her.
She smiled, breathless. “Seems ye’ve suffered enough.”
His laugh was a deep and pained sound. “Cruel woman.”
He pushed her skirts to her waist and knelt in front of her. She felt him touch and lick and kiss all the places that had been desperate and hot for weeks.
Release came, shuddering through her for several long moments. Ava tried to catch her breath as the pleasure ebbed.
“Is that all, me Laird?” she teased.
His eyes darkened several shades. “Never,” he growled.
Ava flushed and swallowed, unsure of what came next.
Caden lifted her into his arms, kissing her as he carried her to the rug by the fire. Slowly, he kneeled down, never breaking their kiss. Her hands clutched onto his broad shoulders, not wanting to let go.
He laid her down before him, and her hair fanned around her head like a halo. Her bare skin on the fur rug was a conflicting sensation with the wetness between her legs.
He pinned her hands over her head, thick ropes of muscle framing her face. She pulled his tunic off, exposing the wall of muscles beneath.
“Ye’re beautiful,” he purred, his eyes roving her breasts.
He sucked a nipple into his mouth, making her moan.
They came together in heat and closeness, the world narrowing to breath and touch and the sounds of desire they could no longer contain. The fire crackled, shadows dancing as though the room itself bore witness and celebrated the union of man and wife.
When at last release came, Caden rested his forehead against hers, his hands firm on her waist, as though grounding himself in the feel of her.
“I love ye,” he said, unguarded, bare.
Ava smiled through the lingering tremors. “I love ye,” she murmured.
He kissed her then—not desperate, not hurried, but certain.
