He kissed her quickly, and she made a half-hearted attempt to push him off, but he didn’t let go. He was as hot as a forge, his skin bronzed by the firelight – all husky, solid manliness, and, in his own way, Cullen was beautiful too. When Lowri did not resist, he kissed her harder, deeper. His hand came to her collarbone and traced down her chest to the cleft between her breasts.
‘You may be a bit rough at the edges, lass, but you have beautiful skin, smooth and silky as butter.’
She had to delay him so that he could think. ‘Don’t talk like that.’
‘I’ll talk how I want around my wife,’ he murmured, kissing her shoulder, nuzzling her neck.
‘Wife! You’ve known me but a few days, Cullen.’
‘Long enough to know, I want to be inside you again,’ he breathed.
‘You said our wedding night was mortifying.’
He growled, ‘Well, I lied. It wasn’t. Would it be so bad to have me inside you again?’
His coarse way of talking made Lowri’s heart thud, and she gasped when Cullen peeled open her bodice and cupped her breast. It was so unexpected that she froze at his hot palm pressing against her eager, traitorous flesh. Goosebumps tightened her skin as his thumb brushed over her, gently, feather-light. His mouth claimed hers again.
Lowri moaned, though whether in protest or to spur him on, she knew not which, for Griffin Macaulay’s threat weighed her down. He had ordered the two of them to bring forth a bairn so that his sense of revenge would be satisfied. It hurt to do just what he wanted. But Cullen’s touch was so delicious, and the whisky had softened Lowri’s dislike to the point of wanting him to do all the sinful things his hard voice suggested. Having been cut adrift from everything she held dear, she deserved some joy, didn’t she?
Cullen began to fumble and tear at her borrowed dress until it was a heap at her feet. He gave her a little shove, and she fell back onto the pretty coverlet. He landed heavily on top of her, but hardly broke his kiss.
‘We can’t. We shouldn’t,’ she mumbled against his lips. Oh, his mouth felt good – wicked and hot. It moved lower.
‘Why not?’ he mumbled, not raising his head from where it was buried in the sweet spot between her neck and shoulder.
‘Maeve brought this cover from Kransmuir. It must be a costly thing.’
‘Then we’d best put it to good use,’ he said, kissing his way down to the top of her breasts, tugging down her shift to expose her breasts to the cold air. His head dipped lower, and he began to kiss, suck, and stroke, sending spears of pleasure up Lowri’s body and between her legs.
‘I can’t, Cullen. This is not right.’
‘Doesn’t it feel right?’ he said, his grey eyes burning into hers as his hand slid under her shift and upwards. When she did not say anything, it continued its course until it reached the soft, secret place that he had so recently defiled. Then she was undone, for his fingers were as skilled as his mouth. Lowri didn’t know a lot, but she knew that much.
Lowri swallowed hard. If she let him continue, was she giving in to Cullen or to pleasure? Much as she hated to submit to the man, her body responded to his touch, and her arousal built like a steady drum beat, getting louder and louder. It was impossible to think straight with his hands on her, making her feel sinful, wild, and strangely free. She was already naked as a babe under him, and they were wed, so what difference did it make if he had her? And he was so hard and strong and virile under her hands.
He surged halfway inside her. How had that happened? It did not hurt as much as the first time. In fact, Lowri was eager for all of him. She dug her nails into his back, and his hard body rocked against hers.
Lowri wanted to lie there and be frozen, not show him she liked it. But she could not help but grab onto him as the room spun around her. Somehow, her hips pushed up to meet his thrusts as if she had no control. And each time she did, the pleasure in her belly blossomed. She was open to him, swollen with need. She had lost her mind to sensation. It was all she could think of as her world shrank to Cullen’s mouth, his manhood, his touch all over her body.
‘You can’t want him,’ screamed her conscience. But she did, for her shame was burned away by the heat of the whisky in her blood. Or had she simply given up resisting? Cullen was heavy, his face savage with lust, and Lowri’s surrender was complete.
Cullen kept his eyes locked to hers as he rocked inside her, over and over, watching, intent. The tickle of pleasure grew to a thud in her belly until Lowri had to turn her head to avoid his gaze. She squeezed her eyes shut, fingers clawing at the riot of red flowers and green stems, and cried ‘Cullen’ into the night.
After that, all she could recall was a groan and a pulse of joy from Cullen as he clutched her so tightly that he might break her ribs. His warmth rolled away, and Lowri’s eyelids grew heavy. She might have done a terrible thing. Oh, but she wouldn’t think of that now. She would worry about that in the morning, when the room stopped spinning.
***
Cullen woke to a flashing recollection of the night’s events. Lowri under him, squirming against his cock and crying his name. It might have been on account of the whisky and not his skills as a lover, but there was a passion in the lass which had taken him by surprise. Thankfully, he had acquitted himself well, or at least, it seemed like it.
He slid up onto his elbow. Lowri was still asleep, her arm up to her face, fingers in a little fist. Thick black hair spread out on the pillow, shiny and silky as he trailed his fingers through it. Allowing himself the indulgence of just staring, Cullen delighted in how bonnie she was – pink in the cheeks, her eyelashes thick and long, and that mouth that had been pressed to his, so full and wide. Her shift was hanging off one shoulder, exposing a little mound of creamy, delicate flesh where her breast met her armpit. Cullen leant over and kissed it, inhaling her sweetness.
Lowri stirred and gave a little moan, and he was lost to lust. She’d let him have his way last night. Perhaps she would again, if he was tender. He had taken her in a hazy storm of passion, butnow, he wanted her slowly, to make it last, and to lose himself in her warm curves.
Cullen pressed his belly against her and swept his arm under the blankets. His fingers found the curve of her hip and moved down. One leg was flung out before her, so he slid his hand up to the soft mound just as he kissed her shoulder. She awoke with a little cry and stiffened, so he eased himself further on top of her. Lowri blinked rapidly, and her mouth fell open. She turned her head back towards him. Excellent. Now he could kiss her.
She wriggled away at first, but when his fingers started to do their work, she became limp in his grip and slick under his touch. He opened her legs wide with his knee and lay her on her stomach and slid inside her with one sublime movement, sinking his head into her nape to stop from crying her name. Cullen kissed Lowri’s neck as he moved slowly in and out of her body, all the while touching her, coaxing her onward. She pushed her bottom against him, her fingers fisting into the blankets, their mouths joined. She was so warm and tight and soft, she made him hard as iron. It was a triumph of sorts, to make her want him so.
‘Do you like that, lass?’ he breathed. ‘I wanted it gentle, but I can go harder if you like it like that.’
