Her cloak fell away and a moment later, his strong fingers encircled her ankle. His palm slid upward over her silk stockings, a flourish of goose bumps rising in its wake. Then he reached bare flesh, the rough callouses of his fingers grazing the sensitive skin. Prim squeaked against his lips.
James lifted his head, grinning down at her. “Something to say, lass?”
Prim shook her head as his hand drifted up over her drawers and between her thighs. She clamped them tight, trapping his hand between them. “Just one thing.”
“Aye?”
“What exactly did you mean to imply when you said, ‘In the meantime’?”
His gruff chuckle brushed her cheek before his teeth nipped at her earlobe. “I don’t plan on making love to you in this carriage, if that’s what you’re thinking. But I do have a few thoughts to pass the time. Do you want me to tell you, lass? Every delicious detail?”
Prim’s breath caught in her throat, torn between the flood of pure lust his question inspired, curiosity, and puritanical reticence. “I-I…”
“Do you want me to tell you exactly how I’m going to have your sweet quim flow like honey against my fingers before I make you come?” he asked.
If she’d been a foot from a furnace, she couldn’t have flamed any hotter. Goodness, her heart was beating like a drum within her chest. She could scarcely hear over the pounding, yet every word echoed in her ears.
“Or should I just show you?” His hand slipped farther up, parting the slit in her drawers. Already, the honey he referred to was flowing at his words.
“You can decide,” she choked out.
James clucked his tongue with a shake of his head. “It must be your decision, lass. I thought we’d discussed this.”
“You owe me one for dismissing my suggestion to take me to your house tonight.”
James laughed again. “So I do. So I do.”
Whatever he had in mind for themeantime, she’d happily indulge in. He would soon see she wasn’t only impulsively throwing caution to the wind, that she was taking control of her destiny. Who she was doing it for—herself or James—hardly mattered anymore. The two had become one.
James’s fingers brushed the damp curls between her thighs, then parted them. “Ye’re hot already, lass.”
“I know.”
“Wet.”
Mortified, she buried her face against his chest.
“Dinnae fash, lass,” he whispered against her temple, his brogue thicker than she’d ever heard it. Low and throaty. “Ye couldnae please me more.”
Then all thoughts of embarrassment were gone. His fingers plunged into her, deep and hard. There was only fire.
He pumped his fingers, stroking smoothly. In. Out. Withdrawing, he circled the hardened nub of her desire, drawing a cry from deep within her. A sound she never thought herself capable of, needy and carnal.
“Aye, lass,” he urged. “Take it.”
He orbited that sensitive spot again and Prim clasped her thighs together, not to stop him but to hold him tighter against her.
“Ye like that?”
Prim shook her head against his chest. “Please, don’t t-t-talk.”
His chest heaved silently against her cheek. “Ah, my bonny lass…”
But he left it at that and resumed his torture, tearing gasps and sighs from her as he stoked the inferno raging low in her belly. It burgeoned and spread, sending fiery tendrils down her thighs. Hotter and hotter, she clung to Jamie’s broad shoulders with a low wail. His lips covered hers, swallowing the sound.
“Och, my sweet bonny lass,” he whispered against her mouth, kissing her deeply again.
His tongue plunged, his fingers curled within her, and Prim shattered. Her groans, silenced by his lips, ravaged her inside as she convulsed around his fingers, hot and wet. Just as he promised.
