Before Hannah could respond with a sharp retort, he leaned down and kissed her gently.
At the beginning, the kiss was nothing more than a brush of their lips. His palm cradled her cheek, warm and comforting. Then his arm snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against him, and the kiss deepened.
She gasped into his mouth, lips parting. His tongue slid against hers, careful and languid. Tilting his head, he deepened the angle, fitting them together as if they’d been made that way.
Hannah pressed herself against him, reaching up to wrap her arms around his broad shoulders. The hand around her waistflattened out, his hot palm trailing briefly down her spine before moving to her hip. She let her fingertips rake through the soft hairs at the nape of his neck, then trailed them down to trace the edges of his scars.
I could trace these shapes forever.
“Beautiful,” Aiden breathed against her, pulling back just enough to give her a glimpse of his eyes, dark and intent.
Before she could respond, he leaned in again, pressing his lips against her neck. Sensation shivered through her. His teeth raked against her skin, blunt and hard, applying only a delicious hint of pressure. She shivered, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back, and he applied a little more pressure, just enough to make a thrill bloom at the spot. Then his teeth disappeared, and he laved the flat of his tongue against the very same spot.
Pulling back, he grinned wolfishly down at her.
“Ye will have a bruise there in the morning,” he purred. “A wee red mark, right here on yer neck where everybody can see it. And what do ye think they’ll realize when they see it?”
She shivered breathlessly. “What?”
“They’ll realize that ye belong tome.”
Her breath caught in her throat, audibly so.
A slow, wicked grin spread across his face.
He leaned in to kiss her again, but this time there was more heat. She clutched at him, pulling him against her. Their teeth knocked together clumsily, but neither of them cared. His hands slid up her sides, palms stroking over the swell of her breasts. The warmth of it made her breath hitch again.
He pulled back, watching her thoughtfully. Then his fingers danced over the seam in the front of her bodice, tugging questioningly on the laces that bound it together.
She gave a slow, breathless nod.
“I thought most dresses laced up at the back,” he murmured, gently unraveling the knot.
Hannah felt the bodice loosen at once and closed her eyes. “If they have a maid, aye,” she responded wryly. “How am I meant to get a dress laced up at the back all on me lonesome?”
“Ahh, that makes more sense.”
Carefully, he dropped his clever hands to the laces, tugging each one studiously through its hoop. Bit by bit, the bodice sagged open until the neckline was loose enough to slip off her shoulders. She wore a shift under it, of course, a thin, translucent linen garment that had certainly seen better days.
He pulled aside the bodice, letting it bunch around her waist. The air chilled her skin through the shift, her nipples peaking. Aiden placed a hand on her breastbone and slid it downwards, cupping the weight of her breast through her shift. He ran the pad of his thumb over one pink nipple, and she clenched her teeth to hold in a startled moan.
He was on her at once, his hand cupping her jaw, his thumb sliding across her lips. “Ah-Ah-Ah,” he chastised.
She unclenched her teeth, and he slipped his thumb into her mouth, pressing just once, just briefly on the flat of her tongue. Then the digit was gone, leaving her with a slack jaw, wide eyes, and a pulsing heat between her legs.
“Nay holding back yer voice,” he whispered.
Next, he undid the laces of her shift, more briskly now. It only laced up for a few inches, just enough to hold the neckline closed and keep the garment from slipping off her shoulders. Tugging down the shift and letting it bunch up with the bodice around her waist, he exhaled tautly.
Hannah forced herself not to shiver or cover herself. Instead, she watched him.
“More beautiful than I could have imagined,” he breathed, leaning in once more.
His warm fingers skimmed the swell of her breasts, teasing. Unsteady, she staggered backwards and bumped against the footboard of the bed. She gripped it to steady herself, looking up at him.
Waiting.
“I suppose it’s too late to ask if I can touch ye?” he murmured, amused.
