“What did you have in mind?” she breathed.
“Another wee distraction.”
His dark voice seeped into her bones. She shivered as his hand slid achingly close to her breast. He could reach out and stroke her with his thumb.
He was driving her mad with his touch. With his gentle teasing. All she could think about was his mouth on hers, his hands covering her body and appeasing the wicked sensations firing through her body.
“Concentrate on my mouth.”
I am. Dear God, I can think of nothing else.She could almost taste the warm spiciness of his breath. She nodded, her body drumming with desire.
He covered her mouth with his, and her heart slammed into her chest. Slowly, he lowered her under the water and then back up. It was just for a moment, but it worked.
He broke the kiss and she opened her eyes right into his. Her face lit with accomplishment. “I did it!”
He returned her smile. “You did. Well done, lass. It won’t be long before you are swimming like one of theMaighdean na Tuinne.”
She wrapped her hands around his neck, looking deep into those incredible blue eyes. She loved the way the light reflected off the rare strand of gold hidden deep in the chestnut of his hair. “I don’t know how to thank you,” she said softly.
He pulled her to her feet to stand before him, so that she was stretched against the long length of him. The evidence of his desire pulsed hard against her stomach. His hand slid up to cup her breast, and a wave of delicious heat poured through her. He rubbed his thumb over her nipple, and a rush of sensation spread between her legs. She felt as though she were breaking apart, just from his touch.
“A kiss,” he said, his mouth a hairbreadth from hers. “You can thank me with a kiss.”
A kiss wouldn’t be enough. Not for her. Her body ached for his touch. For his possession. She wanted him. Enough to throw caution to the wind. She knew well what she risked. But her virginity had never been a sacred object for her. Indeed, it only made her a more valuable marriage prize. In truth, she’d do well to be rid of it. But until she’d met the Laird of Coll, there had never been a man she’d wanted enough to risk the censure.
By rousing her curiosity, he’d already shattered her innocence. Since that day in the laird’s chamber when he’d stroked her body, bringing her to the point of something cataclysmic and beautiful. Something that set her body on edge every time he touched her. Something that needed to be satisfied. Maybe then she could think clearly.
Flora had never been one to allow consequences to rule her actions. She wanted him, and there was nothing to prevent her from having him. She wanted the culmination of the closeness she’d felt in his bed. The intimacy of sharing her body with this man. Instinctively, she knew he was keeping something from her, holding back a part of himself. This would bring them closer, and then maybe he would confide in her.
Rising on her tiptoes, she offered herself with a kiss. Never having attempted to seduce a man before, she acted solely on instinct. A slow drag of the lips, a wicked dart of the tongue along the seam of his mouth, a soft nuzzle of her cheek against the coarse scrape of his jaw. She pressed her body against his enticingly and ever so slightly brushed up and down against him, circling her hips against his erection and raking her nipples against his naked chest. Telling him in every way possible—except with words—that she wanted him.
He stood stone still, seemingly unaffected. But she could feel the furious pounding of his heart against hers.
She drew back and looked into the violent maelstrom of his gaze. “Will that suffice?”
She could see the pulse in his neck as he fought for control. “Yes.” His voice was strained and ragged. “That will do just fine.”
But it wasn’t enough for her. Emboldened, she brought her hand between them and trailed her fingers across the ridges of his stomach muscles, the heel of her hand brushing over the heavy round head of his erection, which just broke through the edge of the water. “Are you sure?”
“Flora,” he hissed. But she ignored the warning and covered him with her hand, wrapping her fingers firmly around his thickness. He swore. She could see the strain in his body, the tautness of his shoulders, the flex of his arms at his side. She felt empowered, relishing the exquisite sensation of harnessing such powerful masculinity in her hand. She felt bold and wicked as she touched him with her fingers. He allowed her to explore him, but she could see the toll it was taking on him. Every muscle in his body pulsed with restraint. But when she squeezed him lightly, dragging her hand down the long length of him, he snapped.
He pulled her against him and kissed her with the passion that had struggled to break free, sliding his tongue in her mouth, claiming her in the most basic way. He kissed her long and hard, with a dark carnality that hinted at the erotic pleasures to come.
She was drawn to the dangerous intensity that threatened just under the surface of this man. Sensing in him something similar in herself. The very thing that had made her touch him so boldly. A wild, base sensuality that was only waiting to be unleashed. Making love with Lachlan Maclean would be raw and powerful. And like a moth to the flame, she was helpless to fight the pull of attraction.
His mouth was on her neck, her breasts in his hands. Cupping her. Pinching her nipples lightly until she writhed in innocent frustration against him. The scratch of his beard on her skin as his mouth trailed down her neck drove her mad. She felt ready to explode. Impatient to discover all the pleasure he had in store.
Her hands splayed across the muscles of his back, feeling the tension waiting to be unharnessed. Her legs went weak with her need of him.
He’d untied her shirt, and his mouth had found the tops of her breasts. Her skin was so hot, every kiss blazing a fiery path in its wake. His tongue flicked her taut nipple, and the teasing, gyrating movements increased her frenzy. When he finally took her in his mouth, a sound of raw pleasure escaped from between her lips. She arched her back as he sucked her harder. Plying her nipple with the gentle tug of his teeth and tongue. She writhed helplessly, pressing urgently against his erection. Cradling him between the apex of her legs. At her very core.
He groaned, a deep guttural sound that hinted of danger. He was holding her against him, taking her with his mouth and hands, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted more pressure, more of everything. She wanted to feel the weight of him on top of her. She wanted him inside her.
She wanted everything he had to give.
Blood pounded in his ears. The urge to explode in her hand was crushing. He’d never been this close to losing control. Never been so damned aroused as when she’d circled him in her hand and milked him so innocently—and so perfectly. He’d fought the urge to come and hadn’t been completely successful. His stomach clenched as he fought the pull, but a few drops escaped nonetheless.
He wanted to strip her down and caress every inch of her with his mouth and tongue. She was driving him insane with her innocent touch. With her eagerness. With her open desire.
