He kissed her slowly this time, as if they had hours until the household was roused, his warm lips mapping her mouth, the line of her jaw, and the sensitive hollow just below her ear. He traced the curve of her waist and lower to the slope of her hip.
She arched into his touch, her own fingers roaming over his back, feeling the bunch and flex of muscle.
“You’re beautiful,” she said.
He huffed against her throat. “Lass, I look like someone carved me from a cliff.”
“A very fine cliff,” she said and felt rather than saw his answering smile.
His hand slid up her side, then paused, hovering just below the swell of her breast.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He cupped her then, his touch reverent as one large thumb brushed over the sensitive peak of a nipple until she gasped. Heat coiled low in her belly as the tension inside her rose.
The world narrowed to him and Eliza, here in her small room. His mouth on her throat, his hands exploring her body. Each new caress made her moan and sigh, his touch nothing like the fumbling of a stable hand hidden away in a smelly stall.
When his hand slid lower, over the soft plane of her belly, she caught it, not to push away but to hold it there.
“I’m here,” he murmured. “We’ve plenty of time, my sweet Eliza.”
“I keep expecting someone to take you away from me,” she admitted.
“They’d have to be very determined,” he said dryly. “I’ve waited too long for this.”
“How long?”
His gaze traveled slowly up her body to her face. “Since the day you walked through our front door.”
“That wasn’t long ago.”
“It feels like months,” he whispered into her neck.
His fingers moved lower, through the soft dark curls. Eliza tensed as his long finger ran over the seam between her thighs. Niall had done nothing but thrust inside her. That had hurt, but this was so different. Mungo was worshipping her body.
He watched her as the pressure deepened, and then his finger was inside her slick, damp heat, the delicate muscles tightening as he stroked.
Her thoughts scattered. The shame of her memories with Niall and her uncle’s fury faded. It was just her and Mungo now and the magic his hands were creating inside her.
“Easy,” he muttered, though she couldn’t tell if he was speaking to her or to himself. “I’ve got you.”
And he did. In every way that mattered.
“And I have you,” she whispered.
His thumb moved to the sensitive bud and stroked, adding yet more delicious tension.
She sighed his name as it became unbearable, and then she was arching, scaling the peak of pleasure.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“Iwant to touch you, too, Mungo.” She said it so quietly, he almost wasn’t sure he’d heard her.
He rolled over, taking her with him, wanting her above him where he could see every emotion that chased across her sweet face. He studied the delicate line of her neck to those lovely breasts he’d yet to taste. Mungo would be rectifying that soon.
God help him, he knew her touch would be torture and that he’d have to call on every ounce of willpower to not lift her and sink his aching shaft inside her.
Her fingers touched his throat first, featherlight. Then they drifted down his chest, tracing him as though she was memorizing him. Every place she made contact with burned. He shut his eyes briefly, dragging in a ragged breath.
