For a moment, Tor thought he was dreaming. He sensed the woman beside him, her soft, feminine scent wreaking havoc with his mind. He couldn’t think straight; his head felt as if it had been stuffed with wool.
Bloody hell, he must have had more to drink than he realized. It had been a long time since anyone had snuck up on him. But the twinge of annoyance was quickly forgotten as his body reacted to her presence.
And react it did. Every muscle in his body vibrated with awareness.
This was just what he needed. A soft, willing woman to drown out thoughts of another.
Apparently, MacDonald had ignored his wishes and sent him a lass anyway. He smiled lazily. He’d have to thank his host in the morning.
He drew the lass against his body, her softness melting against him. She was a tiny little thing but felt surprisingly good in his arms, lush and soft, with plenty of womanly curves. And God, that smell. He inhaled, sinking his nose into the soft silk of her hair. Incredible.
The soft hitch of her breath when his mouth touched her ear sent a bolt of lust shooting straight to the head of his cock. He felt himself hardening against the sweet curve of her bottom and knew right away that he was in for an enjoyable ride.
She gasped and he felt her body stiffen with shock, a reaction he was used to. He chuckled. Aye, he was a big man. “Don’t worry, lass,” he murmured in her ear, his lips trailing down the velvety skin of her neck to the sensitive juncture at her shoulder and nape. “I’ll be gentle.”
It was a promise he didn’t know if he could keep. The honey taste of her skin was driving him half-crazy. She was so damned soft and sweet. He nuzzled deeper into her neck and shoulder, kissing her, sucking, tasting, unable to get enough of her, his hunger insatiable. Her long hair fell around him in a silky veil, tickling his bare chest. He wanted her naked against him, skin to skin, but he didn’t think he could wait. His need was overpowering.
Her soft, uneven gasps egged him on. Playing the innocent, was she? He didn’t typically enjoy such games, but right now he didn’t care. Lust filled his groin with heavy, molten heat. His skin felt like it was on fire. He was already as hard as a damned spike.
Not usually so impatient, all he could think about was sinking into her from behind and thrusting until the mindless oblivion overcame them both. He rubbed himself against her bottom a little harder, liking the idea more and more. His cock throbbed painfully. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this aroused. His body responded to her on a base level with pure, raw lust.
MacDonald had outdone himself with this one.
He could feel the gentle swell of her hips and the round curve of her shapely bottom. She might be small, but she was sturdy. Built perfectly for what he had in mind.
His hand slid from around her waist to cup her breast. He groaned at the feel of her filling his palm, his mind immediately picturing the breast he’d seen earlier. This lass had more than enough to make him forget.
He scooped the heavy flesh in his hand, rubbing her nipple between his finger and thumb until it tightened into a hard peak, the way he’d wanted to touch another.
She made a sharp sound, her hips riding back against him. Oh yes, she wanted it badly. He could feel her heart racing wildly under his hand.
He drew the soft lobe of her ear between his teeth. “Like that, do you?” he whispered huskily.
She didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. It was better that way. This was about pure, mindless lust. He didn’t even want to know what she looked like.
In the darkness, she could be anyone.
Like it? Christina couldn’t breathe—first from shock, and then from the hot waves of sensation rippling through her. It felt incredible. Like liquid heat pouring through her veins.
Her heart was racing like a rabbit’s. But he didn’t seem to notice. If he wasn’t drunk, he was close. She could smell the whisky on his breath and hear it in his voice—the dark, masculine tones turned deep and husky. Who would have thought that such a fierce warrior could sound so seductive?
But if the drink had taken the edge off his intensity, it had also dulled his senses enough to mistake her shocked reaction for something else.
He thought she wanted … this. Admittedly, an understandable mistake given that she was in his bed.
Should she call out? Tell him who she was?
At least she was safe for now. As long as he was behind her, her virtue was safe. She wasn’t a complete innocent; she knew how men and women made love.
But where was her father?
Then he was touching her, and she forgot about being scared, forgot about her father’s plan, forgot about everything except what he was doing to her. All she could think about was the hard column pressed against her bottom, his mouth on her neck and ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down her spine, and the incredible sensation of his big hands cupping her breasts, squeezing and plying her nipples until they throbbed with pleasure.
Never could she have imagined that a man’s touch could make her feel like this. Heavy, drugged, as if her body were not her own. It was even better than in her book! She was hot and achy, awash in sensation, her body tingling in places she’d never imagined. Her breasts were full and heavy, and a strange dampness gathered between her legs.
Her body’s reaction would have embarrassed her, but she was too overcome with pleasure to think about it. His hands felt too good. Big, possessive, hot. The pressure exquisite. Leaving her craving—nay, needing—more. She moaned, arching into his hand when the sensations he roused by stroking her breasts became too much to bear. When the clawing need had nowhere to go.
Her innocent response did something to him. His movements grew more demanding. His kiss turned rougher, his mouth and the scrape of his whiskers ravaging the soft skin of her neck. He was breathing hard, the muscles in his arms and chest tight and strained, his passion as fierce as the man himself. And she liked it.
