He was supposed to be a fantasy, but this felt too real, tapping emotions she’d buried long ago.
If only he would stop looking at her.
She had to do something. Focus on something else. She almost wished she was on her hands and knees like the woman in the barn. She wasn’t that bold, but she had another thought and blurted, “Will you take off your tunic?”
Kenneth felt as if he’d entered another world. A world that was entirely new. A world where all his previous experience counted for shite. He was sailing blind and without an anchor. It was unsettling and exhilarating at the same time.
He liked swiving. Liked it a lot. Hell, even when it wasn’t great it was still damned good. And when it was good there was nothing like it.
But this…
This was unlike anything he’d experienced. Something about it resonated. Hell,everythingabout it resonated. From the moment he’d entered her it had felt different. The pleasure had been acute. The pure mind-numbing bliss of sinking into all that warm, soft flesh and feeling her body grip him like a glove. A very wet, very tight, very hot glove. He’d felt a powerful bolt of sensation right to the tip of his cock.
That he understood. What he didn’t understand was the rest. The fierce, primal wave of possessiveness that made every instinct in his body scream “mine,” followed by the strange feeling of rightness, and an equally fierce wave of protectiveness.
He’d promised her he’d be gentle, and he wanted to be. He wanted to make it good for her.
He’d watched her face as he entered her, saw her cheeks flush, heard the sharp intake of breath as he forged deeper and deeper, filling her.
And when it had happened, when they’d been joined completely…
A fierce wave of emotion had reached up and grabbed him by the throat. He’d never felt lust like that before. Lust that settled in his chest and squeezed.
He should be going fast. The king was waiting for him. But it felt so damned good, he didn’t want it to end. Buried deep inside her, the tight, wet fist of her body gripping him, he thought he just might be content to stay here forever.
He took it slow. Dragging out every last inch of his thrusts, sliding nearly all the way out before sinking into her again. But still it wasn’t deep enough. Wasn’t close enough.
It was bloody strange. He couldn’t seem to stop looking at her. Hell, he couldn’t ever recall holding a woman’s gaze for so long. But with her hair tumbling around her face, her cheeks pink, her lips swollen, her eyes hazy with passion, he couldn’t look away. The lass had come alive in his arms.
Christ, he realized.She’s beautiful.
He seemed to stop breathing. Something hot and tight was lodged in his chest. It made him want to hold her gaze. To cup her cheek in his hand and bring his lips to hers in a soft kiss.
The oddity of his reaction made her request all the more jarring.
He stilled. “What?”
She dropped her gaze from his, biting her lip. A blush rose to her cheeks. “I-I…” She stammered, peeking up at him from under her lashes. “I was just remembering, and thought it would be nice…”
She couldn’t seem to finish.
“You thought it would be nice if I took off my tunic?” he said blandly.
She nodded, clearly mortified. “Aye.”
There was no reason he should be bothered by the request. Perhaps he should even be pleased. Obviously, she’d admired what she’d seen in the barn and wanted to see it again. A woman admiring his body was nothing new. Hell, he wanted her admiration. But something about the request made him feel like a stallion at market, and given his oddly tender feelings of a few moments ago, it stung.
Bloody hell, what was wrong with him? He sounded like a woman, overly sensitive and overanalyzing every little nuance. Why should he care if she wanted to admire his body? Hadn’t he told her the same thing? He wanted to see her naked, and if it wasn’t for the difficulty in redressing her, he would have torn that bloody gown right off her shoulders.
A tunic, however, was easy enough to put back on. And it would be nice to have her hands on him.
With that thought in his mind, he grabbed the hem off his tunic that was already bunched at his waist and jerked it over his head, tossing it to the side. “As you wish, my lady,” he said with a cocky grin.
She gasped, her eyes wide with concern. “You’re hurt!” She reached out as if to touch him, but then pulled back as if she were afraid to cause him pain.
He glanced down at the mottled skin, having forgotten about his injury. The pleasure she was giving him was far better medicine than the vile-tasting brew his sister had made him consume, or the long drink of whisky he’d had a few moments ago.
“It’s nothing.”
