As he knelt before her, he pulled off his shirt and joined her in his nakedness.
Waves of pleasure quivering through her, Selene looked up, smiling dreamily. He was magnificent, the flickering firelight playing over his taut muscles, his wide shoulders, the breadth of his chest with its smattering of dark hair, his mighty arms.
Her eyes widened as they came to his jutting shaft. She gasped.
“You look very fine to me, Kenneth MacDonald. But that…” She pointed. “It is so large I don’t believe it could fit inside me.”
Rolling back on his heels he nodded. “Aye, lass. I believe I will fit. Ye are made for it.” His voice was husky with desire.
She seemed to freeze.
“However, I understand that ye’re a maid, and that ye are offering me the precious gift of yer mAidanhead. So, if ye’re afraid, I’ll nae take ye.” He sighed. “Nay matter how me body aches fer ye.”
She reached a hand for him and he leaned in and grasped it. “Just as my body aches for ye, Kenneth,” she whispered. “But these feelings…” she gave a tiny moan and shifted her hips, gazing into his eyes, clutching his hand as if it was her lifeline. “It’s just not what I expected.”
He leaned over her and she ran her fingers over his shoulders and across his chest, toying a little with the rough, dark hairs, marveling at his strength.
“I’d been told that there is no pleasure in lovemaking for a woman. It is all for the man’s desire, and that wives must do it as a gift to their husbands.”
He let go of her hand and shifted his position so that he lay beside her. “Aye. I believe I’ve heard of such nonsense.”
“Well, there is great pleasure for me in your touch,” she said, sighing against him. “So, I believe itisnonsense. And, to be truthful, my body has a glorious, wanton hunger for you.” She tangled her legs against his and paused, giving it a moment’s thought. “Does that make me wicked?”
“Wicked?” He gave a soft laugh, rolling over to take her in his arms. “Nay lass. Ye’re nae more wicked than a sweet robin singing her song at our window. Ye’re just built fer pleasure as she is fer song.” He lowered his head to kiss her mouth.
At the touch of his lips, all Selene’s questions banished in a rush of desire for him. She was lost in the kiss and the feel of his skin against hers and his hand sliding over her breasts.
Gasping, she held him close as he stroked over her belly with deft, searching, fingers, and down to the place between her thighs that was throbbing with need for him.
He parted her, pushing his fingers inside her, and she moaned, arching her back, blazing with her own fire, shifting her legs to give him access to her most hidden parts.
“Aye lass, are ye ready fer me?”
“Mm.” There were no words. Her body was alight, his touch igniting every part of her from fingertips to toes and everything in between. She could think of nothing else but her desperate need for him to take her.
She writhed against him. Feeling his hardness nudging her mound, she drew her legs apart, letting him slide against the wetness of her folds.
Groaning, he paused at her entrance, but she urged him, raising her hips a little so that his tip slid inside her.
“I dinnae wish tae hurt ye…” he managed.
But she was past all thought now. She raised her hips, thrusting against him.
As he entered her, he cried her name, a desperate, passionate sound that took her to some place she’d never been. A wild,treacherous shore where the waves built fiercely as she rode bliss with them with every thrust.
This was ecstasy she’d never imagined or dreamed of, sweeping her to some unknown place, cresting the surging waves in final, glorious, moments. Now there was only Kenneth, his touch, his scent, his body joined with hers and his cries and spasms matching hers.
Afterwards, spent, they lay by the fire in each other’s arms, until at last they drifted into sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
It was still dark when Kenneth woke, stirred from sleep by the chill creeping through the chamber and the uneasy sense that he had lingered too long with Selene. The fire on the hearth had sunk to mere embers, hardly more than a dull red glow and the icy air bit at his bare skin.
He lay for a moment still tangled with Selene. He listened. The keep slept. There were no shouts, no rushing boots on the flagstones, no servants’ whispers. Only the faint sigh of the wind outside and the slower, softer sound of Selene’s breathing.
She lay sprawled on the rug before the hearth where they had lain together, her hair spilling around her like dark silk, one arm flung over her head, utterly unguarded. Even now, with danger pressing at the edges of his thoughts, the sight of her tugged something fierce and tender in his chest and the memory of the passion they’d shared caused his heart to beat faster and the blood to rush to his groin.
No. As much as he wished it, there was no time for lovemaking,practical instincts cut cruelly through his desire for her.
