Caiden carried her through the surf as if she weighed nothing, the strength of his arms both fierce and gentle. Maisie clung to him, her wet gown clinging to her curves, the saltwater dripping from her hair onto his chest.
When he reached the shore, he spread his leine across the sand with a quick movement, lowering her carefully upon it as though she were treasure. The heat of his body hovered over hers, his breath brushing her lips, and the pounding of her heart matched the steady roar of the waves.
"Ye've driven me half mad, lass," he whispered, his voice rough with hunger. His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin as though it were the most precious silk.
She tilted her face into his palm, trembling under the weight of his gaze.
"I cannae stop wantin' ye, Maisie, nay matter how I fight it."
Her lips parted, her breath shallow, as her fingers trailed along the firm lines of his jaw.
"Then daenae fight it," she murmured, her voice husky with longing. The warmth of his skin beneath her touch sent sparks racing through her veins.
He kissed her then, deeply, hungrily. She gasped against his mouth, her body arching into him as his hand slid down her throat, lingering at her collarbone. The pads of his fingers brushed over her damp gown, tracing the swell of her breast with aching reverence. She felt herself burn beneath that touch, her pulse wild and desperate for more.
"Sweet heaven, Maisie," he groaned against her lips, his mouth brushing hers between words. "Yer softness is a beautiful thing."
His thumb pressed lightly over the curve of her breast, coaxing a moan from her. He took it in his mouth and kissed and sucked with delicate movements.
Her own hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, unwilling to let him go for even a breath.
"Yer touch is heaven itself, Caiden," she moaned.
"Then I shall touch ye more," he groaned.
His hand slipped down her side, caressing each curve. From the swell of her hip to the delicate bend of her thigh, his fingers traced with reverence, setting her skin aflame beneath the damp fabric.
She shivered, caught between the cool night air and the blazing fire he stirred in her blood. He stroked along the smoothness of her inner thigh, his thumb circling gently, reverently.
She gasped, arching into his touch, desperate for every lingering inch he gave her.
"Let go of yerself, lass. Let me pleasure ye," he moaned.
She didn't know what he meant, until he gently opened her thighs. He pushed the wet linen of her chemise up higher to her waist. Maisie felt vulnerable in the open air, but her body burned for him. No longer did she worry she was too gangly or unbecoming.
The way he looked at her with desire in his eyes was enough to make her forget all of that.
He moved his head between her milky thighs, and her eyes went wide.
"Caiden?" she asked, confused as to what he was doing.
"Oh!" she said as he kissed the soft mound of curls between her legs, and she suddenly understood.
The sensation felt thrilling and dangerous at once. His lips pressed against her, and she found herself pressing her body to him. Her fingers dug into the sand.
"Lass, I've longed to taste ye," he groaned.
She felt his tongue move up and down the folds of her flower and it set a pulsing rhythm in her, but it was not in her heart—it was much lower.
The moment he pressed her rosebud she sat up in shock. "Caiden that is too much. I cannae… it is…"
"Shh, lass, let it flow through ye," he moaned.
She pushed her fingers into his hair and bit her lower lip. She felt the exquisite pleasure as his tongue swirled on her. The pulsing grew and grew. She lay back and wiggled under him as it overtook her.
She could no longer hold on, and in a flash her body went warm and found release. The throbbing rocked through her as she moaned.
"Oh, Caiden. It feels… somethin' is happenin' to me. I cannae stop." Her breathy words were barely heard over the waves crashing on the shore.
