Her breath hitched as he blessed each of her fingers with a kiss. He tickled her palm with his tongue until she gasped. His eyes danced with the reflection of the fire. “Och, I was right in what I said. Ye maun be a witch, lass, for ye’ve bewitched me body and soul.”
“Have I?” she whispered, a bit husky herself. Aila drew his hand beneath the soap-clouded water. Guiding it to her breast, she covered his with her own and coaxed it downward. “Do I compel ye to move against yer will?”
Finn accepted her teasing with a waggle of his brows. “Aye. Truth, I had nae thoughts of touching ye when I came here. I planned nothing more than a talk.”
He let her guide his hand between her legs. “I think ye’re speaking pretty clearly.”
Those talented fingers found her most sensitive spot with unerring accuracy and circled. Aila sucked in a breath at the electric jolt and spread her legs as wide as the tub would allow. The most roguish grin she’d ever seen spread across his lips and she splashed him.
His throaty laugh was as arousing as his touch. “I merely go where ye will, lass.”
His fingers spread under hers until hers slipped between his. Their digits tangled before he caught her hand beneath his and turned the tables. He steered her fingers to the spot where his had just been, guided them in a slow rotation that brought a wobble to her breath and a quiver to her thighs.
“Aye, like that.”
There was a bit of a quaver to his voice, too. A shakiness to his slow exhale. Aila closed her eyes, listening to his uneven breaths. He put more pressure on her fingers and she complied with a gasp of sinful pleasure.
“Losh, but ye’re beguiling,” he rasped and urged her on, circling her clit in time to his breaths. To the ragged beat of her heart. Tension coiled, spiraled. Pierced with the daggers of want. Of lust.
That’s what this is, she reminded herself. Phenomenal, cosmic lust. Lust so overwhelming it was almost painful to experience.
A whimper escaped her as he urged her on. “Aye,mo chridhe.Let it go.”
She did. And it went spectacularly with bells and whistles…and fireworks…on and on.
“Fook.” Finn kissed her hard, tasting of whisky and so intoxicating her head swam dizzily. He scooped her out of the tub. His chest heaved against her. His heart thundered so hard it moved her. With desire.
Lust, she reminded herself.
“’Tis been a long, fooking week wi’out ye in my bed, lass,” he grumbled and strode to the bed. “I want ye so much I could have spilt at the sight of ye just then. If I had kent what ye’d look like when ye….” His arms trembled and Aila didn’t think her weight was to blame. “Git, git, dog.”
Displaced by the tub and displaced again, Rab leapt down and settled himself in front of the fire. Finn dropped her on the bed and yanked his shirt over his head with another curse.
Ithadbeen a long-ass five days.
What would a lifetime feel like?
She shoved the thought aside and opened her arms to him. His eyes blazed hotter than the flames when he looked down at her. Aila shivered at the hunger there, her body already throbbing in anticipation for what was to come. His erection strained against his breeches with the same pulsing eagerness. He reached for the buttons and paused.
“What is this?”
“I thought we’ve been over this.”
Finn shook his head. “No’ that. This.” He pointed to the tattoo on her hip. “And that?”
They couldthisandthata near dozen times over what had been hidden up to this point by modest clothing and dark rooms. Aila was in no mood to talk about body art at the moment. She reached out and stroked the hard bulge through his breeks. “Is that really what ye’d like to talk about right now?”
Another curse. He’d officially sworn more in the past sixty seconds than he had since she’d met him. All because of his desperation to have her. A corresponding shudder wracked her body. He kicked off his pants and slid his big body up the length of her. His hands flowed over her every curve until they slid beneath her shoulders and his fingers fisted in her hair. His mouth brushed along her neck, up over her chin, and settled over hers in a deep, drowning kiss.
With a low, elongated moan, he fell into it. His tongue traced her lips, then swept in with none of the frantic haste he displayed moments before. He explored at his leisure, drew out her desire like a relentless lava flow until it surged through her limbs. Until it enveloped her heart with the same fiery yearning. His body shifted over hers. The brush of his chest against her breasts, his hips against hers, stoked the flames already licking at her.
“What are ye waiting for?” she asked against his lips. “I thought ye were in a hurry.”
Finn lifted his head. “I was. Until I kissed ye.” He did so again as if to demonstrate. “Then I realized, there can be nae rushing the beauty of this. I mean to savor it, lass. This time. The next. And each time to come, as if it’s the last chance I’ll get. I fear I’ll never have enough of ye.”
His lips took hers again until she was breathless.
Aila had thought there would come a time when she’d get enough of him. When she’d had her fill and could walk away, sated and content. The niggling concern she’d ignored with each passing day was evolving into a very real fear: fear that there was no such thing as enough when it came to Finn Keeley.
