The strange feelings for his young wife disarmed him. He’d never met anyone like her—sweet, kind, thoughtful, and too damned eager to please. She was always touching him—a light touch on his arm, a gentle squeeze. Not since his mother had anyone touched him so freely. Something about her invited closeness.
He should be in the broch with Bruce’s guard, not here in this room alone with her, wanting nothing more than to take her in his arms and cradle her soft, naked skin against his and inhale her fresh scent like it was ambrosia to a dying man.
The sexual craving he understood. This craving to be near her he did not, particularly when it came at the expense of his duties. He was getting soft, and he better damn well do something about it.
He stepped back, straightening his back. “I’ve come to bid you good night.”
Her face fell. “Aren’t you—”
He ignored the stab in his chest. “It’s been a long day.”
She looked as if he’d just stomped on her favorite puppy. “Oh,” she said, twisting her hands, “it’s just that I …”
She looked down, avoiding his gaze, but he could see the soft rush of color to her cheeks.
So beautiful, he thought, the tightness in his chest rising to his throat. Sometimes it hurt just to look at her. Her sweet vulnerability called to him in a way he’d never felt before. His hand lifted to touch her cheek, but it quickly fell back to his side.
He forced his gaze away. This was crazy. He needed to get a hold on himself. She was a distraction he couldn’t afford. He’d started to bid her good night, but her next words stopped him cold.
“I was hoping we could try something different tonight,” she blurted.
His gaze shot to hers, his body jumping immediately to life. “Different?” His voice strangled in his throat. He told himself she didn’t mean what he thought. She didn’t know how provocative that sounded. Or did she? He’d sensed the burgeoning struggle inside her: her natural passionate curiosity warring with the deeply ingrained maidenly modesty. His innocent young bride was growing in boldness. Heaven help him when she finally gave free rein to her passion.
She came closer to him, close enough so that the ripe swell of her breasts brushed the linen of his shirt. He damned near jumped out of his skin, the hard points of her nipples pinning him. She placed her hands on his chest, tilting her head back to meet his gaze. The sensual look in those exotic dark eyes left no question as to what she wanted.
The weight in his groin intensified. His blood rushed hotter as her soft, womanly scent washed over him. She had no idea what she did to him. How he hungered for her. How her unabashed desire for him only made it worse.
“I wondered if we might …”
He waited. His heart pounding fiercely under her palm. He could tell she didn’t know how to say what she wanted. “What is it, lass?” he said huskily, unable to stop himself from caressing the velvety curve of her cheek. A fissure of sensation rattled through him, as it always did when he touched her. “Say what it is you want.”
“I wondered if we might try it the way … the first night …”
He froze. But the blood, the blood rushed and pounded inside him like an inferno. The chains of civility had never been pulled so tight. Every animal instinct in him rose like those of a lion ready to break out of a cage. His cock stiffened, rock-hard and aching.
She couldn’t be asking …
But she was. Her eyes locked on his. “From behind.”
