Spinning away from him, she lifted both hands to her temples with a repressed scream that epitomized for Finn every ounce of the frustration she’d roused in him since the moment they met. He’d been right in thinking she’d be a complication he didn’t need in his life.
“This is ridiculous. Ridiculous!” Even in her ire, her tone was light, practically conversational. In fact, he realized he had yet to hear her tone waver from that honeyed brogue with an edge of seduction. A rare talent that even when the crassest language passed her lips it emerged like a sweet, husky caress. He’d wagered she could tell him to go bugger himself and make it sound like the sweetest farewell.
His breath caught, that coil of need he’d managed to banish from his loins stirred anew.
“Ye are the. Most.Infuriating. Man,” she said to the ceiling before she turned on her heel to face him once more. Eyes brilliantly sapphire. Cheeks flushed. Her breasts heaved against the bodice of her gown. Rather than chiding him, her reaction only served to ratchet his desire that much higher. “I should be wanting nothing more than to smack ye upside the head. Instead all I want to do is—”
Her gaze slid away and another blush tinged her cheeks, this one far more flattering, though she’d been breathtaking in her ire. The sudden shift from anger to wariness captured his interest. He walked toward her in slow measured steps. “What do ye want to do?”
No answer passed her lips as she drew the full lower one between her teeth and snuck a quick look up at him from beneath her lashes. Finn longed to push her up against the wall and take her with all the fury she roused in him.Losh, but she was an unwittingly seductive minx. She couldn’t know the desire she provoked in him.
Or could she?
“How long has it been?”
His brow furrowed at the question. Not out of frustration or anger this time, however. “How long what?”
“Ye said before when I asked that it had been long enough. How long is that?”
Then he knew. “Och, lass, it’s been too long. Far too long.”
“Thank God.”
* * *
Aila wanted to go slow, savor each sensation as their bodies met. Her hand over his heart to feel the pounding against her palm. The tantalizing brush of her breasts against his hard chest. The thrill of his erection against her belly as he pulled her closer.
Most of all the feel of his mouth against hers when she kissed him at last.
Everything she’d fantasized about earlier.
What she got was the merest taste of his lips before his arms encased her like steel bands and pulled her flush against his hard body. His mouth settled over hers with a hum of appreciation. His tongue teased the sensitive seam of her lips and that hum turned to a gravelly moan when she parted her lips to him. God, he was good at this.
His lips brushed, teased. He nipped at her lower lip, then drew it between his lips before devouring her mouth like a starved man. He tasted of whisky and was just as intoxicating. A dozen shots couldn’t have left her so drunk as that kiss.
One kiss and she was breathless, weak with need. A low, keening cry escaped her. Stars danced before her eyes as his tongue swept over hers, and her knees quaked. Her chest ached with longing. A chill ran down her arms and up again, but it was hot passion that tightened her breasts and left her nipples aching. Her fingers curled in his hair and she fell into the kiss with everything she had, determined not to be consumed by the fire he stirred in her so easily but to dance among the flames with him.
His hands slipped down and curved around her bottom, lifting her against him with a growl of pleasure. Aila wrapped her legs around his hips and moaned with frustration at the barrier created by her many layers of skirts. She squirmed against him, hungry for more, and Finn swore under his breath. His lips met hers again and the earth moved beneath her. Nay, he did. He carried her through the open door and kicked it shut behind them, casting them in darkness.
Turning, he slammed her against the still quivering wood planks and pinned her there with the weight of his body. A throaty moan escaped her when his bare hands slid up her calves to the back of her knees, caressing. Teasing. One touch and she was nearly undone.
“Finn.” The word was a faint gasp. A plea.
He drew back his head, his harsh breaths teased her damp lips. “Are ye certain, lass?”
Oh, she wished she could see him, see his stern face soften with passion. “Do I appear uncertain?”
She nipped at his chin and guided his lips back to hers. Rough fingers skimmed her thighs, digging into her bottom before slipping between them. His thumbs caught the edge of her panties and he paused.
“What do ye—?”
“Shite, let me—” She dropped one leg with the intention of pulling her panties off but he beat her to it, ripping them away as if they were nothing. “That’ll work too.”
His mouth was back on hers, hard and demanding. She gave in to the carnal exploration with a ragged sigh of surrender but bowed back with a hoarse cry as his fingers found the spot she’d pictured him touching earlier. The result was far better by an incalculable magnitude than what she’d managed on her own. “Aye! Oh my sweet lord. Dinnae stop.”
She’d known of the word rapture. Even the definition. However until that moment Aila had never known the feeling. That ascension to the pinnacle beyond where simple passion could deliver one. It was a hint at heaven. Nirvana. Her body clenched with unbearable delight, ready to transport her there.
“Stop. Stop it,” she sobbed. His fingers froze immediately and she strained against his hand in frantic denial. Her fist thumped against his shoulder. “God, dinnaestopstop, ye beast.”
