He met no resistance. This wasn’t her first time, and fleetingly, she worried if he’d care. But then he was buried to the hilt inside her and rolling his hips in sensual circles—and all rational thought fled.
Her stomach muscles clenched. “Oh, cods!”
This position brought him deep and allowed her to feel every hard inch of him. He was touching her in places that made her clench around him.
His face had gone rigid with concentration now, sweat sliding down his temples, as he slowly withdrew and then slid deep once more, rolling his hips again.
It was too much.
The tension that had been winding tighter and tighter snapped. Pleasure twisted and pulsed through her loins. Her core clutched at him.
Hazel arched back, her eyes fluttering shut as wave after wave crashed over her.
A melting sensation followed deep in her womb, and a gush of wetness. She cried out, her eyes snapping open. “Oh, God. Craeg!”
He didn’t hear her, for he now gripped her legs tightly and began to thrust wildly.
He was no longer taking his time, no longer savoring her.
Instead, heplowedher. And she loved it. She couldn’t get enough of it. The wet slap of their bodies colliding filled the chamber, and the throbbing pleasure that had just started to subside crested once more.
She stared between them now at where his shaft, slick from them both, penetrated her.
In the back of Hazel’s mind, a warning whispered that if she let him find his release inside her, there could be consequences, but she ignored it. The excitement of this wild coupling made her reckless.
She didn’t want him to withdraw and spill on her belly or on the sheepskin covering the bed. No. She wanted him to lose control. She wanted all of him.
And so, when Craeg thrust into her once more, a hoarse cry ripping from his throat, she arched up hard against him, bringing him deeper still, welcoming the heat of his seed filling her.
20: MO ANAM CARA
PANTING, HAZEL LAY spread-eagled upon the bed.
She felt as if she’d just drunk a horn of strong wine. The room was spinning. Her body was boneless and weak. And the pleasure that had just taken her by storm still pulsed gently in her womb.
Craeg had collapsed next to her. Lying on his side, his own breathing still labored, he’d propped himself up onto an elbow.
He gazed down at her, his eyes glistening with emotion.
Something clutched deep in her chest. Lord. When he stared at her like that, she was in danger of forgetting her own name.
“I wish to make ye my wife, Hazel.”
Her breathing hitched, alarm flaring hot under her ribs.
Raising a trembling hand, she slid it up his torso to his chest, over sweat-damp skin and crisp whorls of hair, to where his heart thundered. “This is … sudden. We should wait—”
“Aye … but I know what I want.” His jaw firmed. “Ye. None other.”
She swallowed. As the fog of lust cleared, reality crept in like a cold mist on an autumn morning. It would be easy if there were just the two of them to consider. But life wasn’t that simple.
“We both lost control,” she said, deciding that one of them had to keep their feet on the ground. “Both gave into lust … but that’s not a sturdy foundation to build a marriage on.” She didn’t add that he was a chieftain. A man with responsibilities. Duties. He’d also made a promise to Hamish Macquarie and had been formally betrothed.
“It’s much more than that between us … and ye know it,” he replied, his gaze never wavering. He reached up and caught her hand, threading his fingers through it. “I love ye.”
Her pulse quickened. They were straying into dangerous waters now.
“None of that will matter if Macquarie doesn’t accept yer choice,” she pointed out huskily.
