‘I am not afraid of you, Peyton. I am afraid of what you make me feel.’
He swallowed down the hope that rose in his chest and took her in his arms. ‘And what is that?’
‘Confused, sinful, yet happy, and that is the truth.’ She chewed on her lip again. ‘But I don’t deserve to be happy, and I am uncertain around you. I must mend my ways, for I have been selfish and foolish.’
‘Stop saying that.’
She picked wood chips off his shirt absentmindedly. Up close, Cecily smelled of sweetness and warmth.
‘I do not want to be a slave to you or to my worst impulses,’ she said.
‘I have great admiration for your worst impulses, lass.’
He kissed her because how could he not? Peyton met no resistance, and Cecily’s lips yielded to his so sweetly that his heart ached a little. ‘Was that alright?’ he said.
‘It was nice. I suppose you may do it again,’ she said, so he did.
‘What else did you like?’ he murmured against her lips.
Cecily put her head down to his chest. ‘I like it when you touch me, all gentle and slow, and when your mouth goes to my…. Oh, I cannot say.’
Lust consumed him, but left just enough room for jealousy. If Cecily had ever wanted Jasper Glendenning, he could not bear it. He would pound that bastard out of her, make her want him instead, and salve his bruised pride. Why not succumb to his baser urges? Peyton crushed Cecily to his chest and kissed the life out of her.
Cecily felt a worm of desire uncoil deep in her belly. Peyton’s iron-hard arms around her felt safe. His body was hot where it pressed against her chest. His kiss was different - more savage, hungry. A wild abandon came over Cecily.
‘Come inside out of the wind, lass,’ Peyton breathed against her mouth. He tugged on her hand, pulling her inside the wood store, but she hesitated.
‘What are you asking me, Peyton?’
‘You know full well what I am asking you, Cecily,’ he said, and his eyes were hot with desire.
Cecily hesitated. She was at a crossroads with him. The weight of Peyton’s need pressed on her, but she had a need of her own, so she let him lead her inside. He shut the door and barred it. Dusk glowed through gaps in the door, sending tiny shafts of light around, but Cecily wished it was darker. Peyton pushed her gently up against the wall and kissed his way down her chest to the swell of her breasts.
‘You are so soft and beautiful,’ he whispered as he slid down her bodice, and her breasts sprang free to meet his hot mouth. He licked and sucked for the longest time, and she was lost in his touch. He was so gentle, so teasing, that Cecily’s legs softened, and if not for his strong arms pinning her, she would have sunk to the ground. She thrust her fingers into Peyton’s hair. It was thick and softer than she had imagined. She dug in her nails, letting a little moan of pleasure escape her lips.
Peyton growled, and his mouth found her lips again, his breath coming fast and hard. He kissed her gently enough to make her swoon, his stubble scratchy against her skin, his taste delicious, and then he quickly pulled away. His hand came to her cheek, hot, like a brand on her skin. ‘Do you fear me, lass? Do you fear my anger if you want to stop?’
‘No,’ she breathed.
He freed himself, guiding her hand down.
Cecily risked a glance at his manhood and gasped. ‘I am afraid of that,’ she said, biting her lip. ‘It is like a horse’s.’
He gave her something between a kiss and a laugh as he pressed her hand to it. ‘Be careful, else my head swells as big as my cock.’
When she frowned at him, he growled, ‘Say you want me, Cecily.’
His manhood lay thick and heavy in her palm. She tried to find her words but could not. He gave her a little shake by the shoulder. ‘Say it!’ His voice had turned dark with lust and power, sending a heavy thud of desire to her loins. Cecily nodded, and in a flurry of skirts, he hoisted her up so that her legs were around his waist, her back pinned to the wall.
Peyton slid inside her more easily than the first time, for she was slick with desire. It was so shameful that Cecily buried her head in his neck, waiting for the pain to come as punishment. But it did not. Instead, he slowly filled her, sending shoots of pleasure up into her belly. He began to rock against her ever so slowly.
Dust motes floated from the walls and danced in and out of the dusk light spearing the woodshed. The tang of pine filled her nostrils, and his smell—warm flesh, sweat, and soap in his hair. His lips tasted spicy, like whisky. Peyton was delicious, and she wanted to eat him up.
Cecily’s breath caught. She clung to Peyton’s arms and wrapped her legs around his waist to hold him against the soft, secret part of her that seemed to swell and cry out for him as he ground his hips against her again and again. Her nipples tingled where they rubbed against his shirt, clenching, tight with pleasure.
‘Do you like that, lass?’ he cried, his broad hands gripping her bottom.
‘Aye. Oh, I like it, I do.’
