She realized wearing his tunic was a huge mistake. Because now all she thought about was the way the soft material brushed against her bare skin underneath. Her modern clothes were in a neat pile on the chair opposite the one Jamie’d vacated.
After another sip of ale, she placed the tankard on the table next to the stone, the offensive stone that had altered her life and would, apparently, continue to alter her life.
She slid under the blankets and pulled them up to her chin, turning away from him in the hopes she would not be tempted by his hard, muscled body.
“Good night.” Her voice was a bit more gruff than she intended.
The rustle of material next to her and then the bounce of the feather mattress indicated he got up from the bed. She snuck a glance in his direction to see him walking around the room and snuffing out the candles. The only thing that remained was the fire blazing in the hearth. He wore nothing but his birthday suit, which made her almost stop breathing. She stifled the gasp that wanted to erupt. He was glorious in everyway imaginable.
He returned to the bed and settled next to her.
“Good night, lass,” he said on a sigh.
As if he were disappointed she clung to the edge of the bed, afraid to get close to him.
She had never been afraid to get close to a man before. What was wrong with her?
She rolled to her other side. His back was to her, the blankets tucked under his arm. The firelight flickered over that expanse of perfect skin.
Without thinking, she reached out to touch him. Her hand landed on his upper arm. On reflex, his arm muscles tightened under her touch. Then he stiffened.
Whatever silent communication it was that passed between them, she didn’t know. But he rolled toward her and reached for her, pulling her close.
Even in the shadowy darkness, she saw the smirk on his face.
“I thought ye could keep yer hands to yerself.”
She grinned. “I guess I lied.”
Her mouth met his in a searing kiss that was undeniable. His arms slid around her, pulling her even closer, if that were possible. Her mind screamed for her to put a stop to this madness, but her body was unwilling to listen to that nonsense. Her heart was already pounding so hard she thought it would burst through her chest.
She shimmied out of his tunic and tossed it off the side of the bed. The next to go was her modern lingerie—which was not her normal satin and lace. When she had gone on her shopping spree in Edinburgh, she’d opted for simple and comfortable cotton.
Not that any of that mattered to Jamie. He had never seen anything like that before and likely didn’t care about what she wore under her sweater and jeans.
He kissed her with long, soft kisses. Impatience bubbled through her, but she sensed he wanted to take things slow. He wanted to savorher, to taste her, to bask in the glow of this one perfect moment.
“Jamie?”
“Shh, lass. I want to worship ye.”
Worship?
The blood rushed to her head, making her lightheaded. It was, quite possibly, the sweetest thing a man had ever said to her. She wasn’t sure how to feel. She wasn’t surewhatto feel.
The heat pounded through her, pooling in her abdomen. Normally, when she was with someone new, there was a frenzy that rose to a fever pitch. The men she had been with did not take their time and they certainly did not want to worship her.
“But—” she started.
“Shhh. I’ve waited for ye my whole life.”
He kissed her again. He tasted like the weak ale and smelled like heather and woodsmoke. Her hand pressed against his chest. Below it was the frantic pounding of his heart, matching hers.
Ah, so he was as excited as she was. That was, at least, good to know.
His kisses moved from her mouth to her cheek, her earlobe, down her neck, and over her collarbone. With a gentle nudge, he pushed her to her back. She melted against the bed as he hovered over her, continuing to kiss her with those long, slow, drugging kisses. Her eyes fluttered closed. She reached up, letting her fingers tangle in his long hair.
He hummed his response against her belly.
