“Felt like a lifetime.” He finally got her dress loosened enough to push it off her shoulders, his mouth immediately following the path of fabric. “Never again. Never pushin’ ye away again.”
“Ye are right, ye willnae,” she gasped as his teeth grazed her collarbone. “Because if ye do, I’ll—oh God—I’ll actually use those knives on ye.”
“Worth the risk.” His hands found the hem of her chemise, pulling it over her head in one smooth motion. “Christ, ye’re beautiful.”
The reverence in his voice made her shiver. This was desperate, intense, as if they were both trying to prove something. That they belonged together. That what they had was worth fighting for.
Her own hands weren’t idle, finally getting his shirt off and running her palms over the broad expanse of his chest. She traced old scars, felt the hammer of his heart beneath her fingertips, marveled at the strength coiled in every muscle.
She moaned softly as his hands cupped her, lifting her against him, his manhood throbbing insistently against her core.
“Bed,” she managed. “Now.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. In one smooth motion, he lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her the few steps to the bed. They fell onto it together, a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses.
“Ye’re mine, Iris,”he said, his voice thick with possession.“All of ye.”His words sent a thrill through her, a mix of fear and excitement that coiled low in her belly.
His mouth traveled down her throat, across her collarbone, finding her breast his mouth closed over a nipple, sucking and teasing and making her arch off the bed with a cry. Every touch felt heightened, more intense, as if the fear of losing each other had sharpened their awareness of every sensation.
“Elijah, please.”
He smirked, his eyes dark with intent, as he unbuckled his belt, his kilt pooling around his hips. His manhood sprang free, thick and veins pulsing, and she swallowed hard, her mouth watering at the sight. It was a sight both intimidating and exhilarating, a promise of pleasure that made her heart race.
She reached out, her fingers wrapping around his shaft, stroking him slowly, savoring the feel of him, the heat of his skin, the way he shuddered at her touch. His sharp intake of breath was her reward, and she smiled, a small, teasing smile that made his eyes flash with something akin to desperation.
He pushed her hand away with gentleness and positioned himself between her thighs, his fingers tracing the wetness between her legs, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through her.
“Ye’re so wet for me, lass,”he murmured, his thumb circling her sensitive folds, sending waves of sensation crashing over her.She gasped, her hips bucking against his hand, but he held her firm, teasing her mercilessly.
He thrust home in one smooth stroke, and they both cried out at the sensation. He gave her a moment to adjust, his forehead pressed against hers, both of them breathing hard.
He began to move, slow and deliberate at first then faster, harder, his hips snapping against hers, the bed creaking beneath them. The rhythm was urgent, and she felt herself being swept away, her body responding to his with a desperation that matched his own.
“Iris,”he groaned, his voice raw, his breath coming in ragged gasps.”Ye feel so good.”
His hands gripped her hips, bruising, as he pounded into her relentlessly, the sound of their bodies meeting, the creak of the bed, and the crackle of the fire creating a symphony of passion.
Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body tightening around him, the pleasure building to an unbearable edge.“Elijah…”
“Cum for me, lass,”he demanded, his lips brushing her ear, his voice a rough whisper that sent shivers down her spine.“Let me feel ye more.”His words were her undoing, pushing her over the edge, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave, her body convulsing, her cries echoing in the small room.
He followed, his thrusts stuttering. His seed spilled deep inside her and his hoarse shout filled the air. For a moment, they lay there, breathless, their bodies still joined, the fire crackling in the background. His weight was heavy but comforting, his heart pounding against hers, a rhythm that matched her own. They clung to each other as the aftershocks faded, both trembling, both struggling to catch their breath.
Finally, he rolled to the side, pulling her with him, so she was draped across his chest. His hand stroked lazily up and down her back, soothing, gentle.
“We should probably get back on the road,” she murmured after a while though she made no move to leave the warmth of his arms.
“Eventually.” His arm tightened around her. “But right now, I just want to hold ye. To convince meself this is real. That ye’re really here, really mine.”
“I’m here.” She pressed a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. “I’m nae going anywhere.”
They lay in comfortable silence for a while, simply enjoying being together, being at peace.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The morning sun was just beginning to crest over the horizon when Iris stirred in Elijah’s arms. They’d spent the night at the small inn. Mairie and the coachman having taken rooms on the lower floor, while she and Elijah had been tangled together in a bed barely large enough for one person, let alone two, but neither had complained. After everything that had happened, being close felt necessary, vital even.
“Ye’re awake,” Elijah’s voice rumbled against her back, his arm tightening around her waist.
