“I want to see you…touch you.” His breeches rested low on his hips, still covering that most masculine part of him, and Hyacinth’s hand drifted lower, her fingertips sliding under the waistband.
A low moan rose in Lachlan’s throat. His chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath, and his shaft twitched and jerked against his breeches, as if it was reaching for her. His hips arched when she loosened the buttons on his falls, then he dragged his breeches over his hips and down his legs, and tossed them aside.
She stared down at him, her lower lip caught in her teeth. The hard, thick length of him was pulsing against the taut flesh of his belly, the flushed tip straining toward his belly button. “You’re…it’s…it’s soanimated.” Faint heat rose in her cheeks at how foolish she sounded, but she hadn’t understood until now how alive this part of him would be.
A strained laugh escaped him. “It isnow.”
His words faded into a strangled groan as her hand closed around him. Hyacinth’s mouth opened with surprise as she cradled his throbbing length in her palm. His skin here was thin, and softer than she’d ever imagined, but under that hot, silky flesh he was rigid.
“Harder,aingeal.” Lachlan covered her hand with his, his fingers tightening until she was gripping him much more firmly than she would have dared otherwise. “Stroke me.” He moved her hand up, his hips jerking when they reached the tip.
“It’s, ah…swelling.” Hyacinth’s voice was filled with wonder, and her own breath was coming harder as he writhed against her touch, broken moans and endearments falling from his lips as she stroked him.
“Do you want me,aingeal?” Lachlan stilled her hand, and pulled himself gently from her grip.
Want him? Her entire body was flushed and aching. She was certain if he didn’t touch her soon, she’d explode. “Yes. So much, Lachlan.” She fumbled for her skirts, ready to tear her gown off, but he reached behind her and loosened every button himself, and soon the silk of her gown, her fine cotton shift, and her tight corset were just a memory.
Lachlan went still. He didn’t take his eyes off her as he eased her back against the sofa, his hot gaze moving over every bare inch. He slowly traced the curve of a breast with one finger, then circled a rosy nipple with his fingertip. “So pretty,aingeal.”
Hyacinth’s lips parted in a soft cry. He was so gentle—just one of his fingers, lightly caressing her breast, but even that simple touch made her want to unfurl for him, to stretch and spread under his hands so she could feel them on every part of her body.
His gaze darted to her face, then dipped back down to her breasts, a masculine smile curling his lips when her skin flushed in the wake of his touch. “You’re sensitive here.”
She couldn’t speak, but he didn’t wait for an answer. He brought his hands back to her breasts and stroked his palms over her nipples, gently abrading them, sucking in a harsh breath when they hardened for him. He circled the peaks with his thumbs, his mouth opening when they turned a deep, dark pink. He held her gaze as he lowered his mouth to her breast. He paused to nuzzle her neck and press a kiss over her heart, then his lips werethere, on her nipple, suckling her.
“Lachlan.” Hyacinth’s back arched sharply at the exquisite tug and stroke of his tongue. Her hands flew to his head, her fingers clutching at his hair to hold him against her breast. “It’s so…oh. I-I don’t know what to do.”
She felt his lips curve against her swollen nipple. “You don’t have to do anything,leannan. Just let me pleasure you.” He gave her nipple a final, teasing lick before kissing his way to the other straining peak to suck it into his mouth. “Let me touch you,” he murmured, sliding his hand over her hip. “You’re so soft here.” He stroked his palm over the skin of her upper thigh in a soothing caress, then he let his hand drift higher, higher…
“Oh, oh…” Hyacinth’s breath tore from her lungs in a strangled moan as he opened her with gentle fingers, parting her folds to find the center of her pleasure. Then he was stroking her with his fingertip, his breath hard and fast in her ear, and she didn’t try to reason, or to think at all, but arched her hips toward his hand, utterly lost to him.
* * * *
He’d gone mad.
The thought drifted through Lachlan’s mind as he kneeled between her legs, but it was snatched out of his head by her breathless whimpers, and the sensation of her warm, damp folds against his fingers.
He stroked and circled and teased at her dewy flesh until she was crying out for him, her fingers tight in his hair, her body arching to get closer to his. His name was on her lips, and she was pleading with him to ease the ache inside her.
And he…
He was going to make her his.
It wasn’t why he’d brought her here tonight, to Lady Chase’s deserted library. Touching her, kissing her, making love to her—those were dreams only, gifts never meant for a man like him.
Scoundrel, liar, murderer…
He’d been that man for so long, he hadn’t believed he could ever be anyone else.
Until her.
Because I love you, Lachlan…
As soon as she said those words, it was as if he’d been swept into a racing current, but instead of drowning, he’d broken the surface, coughing and sputtering, but cleaner than when he’d entered, the ugly stains fading into a distant memory.
He didn’t deserve her, yet somehow she was his, and he could no more let her go than he could command his heart to stop beating. It made no sense he should be the one who’d been given the gift of her, unless…
Unless it was because no other man could ever love her as much as he did.
