He crawled up onto the bed and positioned himself above her on all fours. His hair touched her cheek like the soft teasing tip of a feather, and she breathed deeply, realizing at last that he was not a figment of her imagination. He was true flesh and blood, and he had come to her bedchamber again, perhaps to break the promise he had made. Or perhaps he was here merely to explore and test the limits of her resistance.
Without uttering a word, he found her mouth in the hush of stillness between them, and her quivering lips parted instinctively. His tongue, constantly moving, circled around hers in a rush of damp heat, while her blood began to pulse through her body in a sweltering torrent of sensation.
His hand moved to her breast, and she gasped faintly at the light pressure of his thumb over her tingling nipple. She was surprised at herself—that she was not fighting his advances—but he had awakened her at the worst possible time, when she was aroused by the dream and did not feel so innocent.
Angus lowered his heavy body to hers. Her shift was bunched around her hips, for she had tugged it up during sleep, and she could feel the soft wool of his tartan against her bare inner thighs. His hands came to rest on her hip, while his tongue continued to swirl erotically around hers.
He had said nothing since the moment he entered the room, and she suspected that if she voiced even the smallest note of resistance, he would retreat, and for once, that was something she did not want. At least not yet.
His hands explored her body in smooth, graceful motions, and she grew bold enough to touch the corded muscles of his back through the fabric of his shirt. She gathered his tartan in her fists, desperate to squeeze and tug at his clothes.
A moment later, he dragged his lips from her mouth and kissed the side of her neck, moaning softly, as if he were devouring something succulent. She moaned in response, and his hand slid up under her shift and found the throbbing ache between her legs. His mouth moved quickly to her breasts, while he pushed her collar out of the way to gain better access. Gwendolen found herself squirming under the twin pleasures of his fingers stroking her womanhood and his tongue caressing her sensitive, pebbled nipple.
His erection pressed against her thigh, and the room seemed to spin in circles. He would have her eventually, she knew, but somehow, full knowledge of his manhood at this moment seemed incidental to the overwhelming intensity of her emotions and her desire for more. Whether it happened now or later did not seem to matter. It was going to happen at some point. She could not stop it. She didn’twantto stop it, at least not now.
Using the heel of his palm, he continued to stroke between her legs until she could barely endure the pleasure. Then he slid one long, slick finger inside her. She stiffened and bucked slightly at the shock of the invasion.
He paused, drawing his head back to look at her. “Am I hurting you?”
They were the first words spoken since he entered the room.
She shook her head, rather frantically.
“One finger won’t make a difference,” he whispered. “You’ll still be a virgin in the morning.”
He kissed her neck and breasts, as she lay panting, her chest heaving.
“You must think me a child,” she said.
“Nay, I don’t think that.” He was still sliding his finger in and out of her with a slippery ease that made her shiver with delight. “You’re all woman, and I’m surprised that you’re mine.”
“I’m not yours yet,” she reminded him, feeling overwhelmed by the pleasures. They made her feel wild and out of control. “I could still change my mind.”
He regarded her intently, then rolled to the side and rested a cheek on a hand, while still stroking her down below with the other. “Why would you say that now, when I’m doing everything I can to please you?”
“Because you invaded my home,” she replied, feeling breathless and distracted, barely able to think through the violent flow of sensation.
“From what I heard,” he said, leaning close to her ear and teasing her with his voice, “you almost put a bullet in my brain while I was completing the invasion. What stopped you?”
“I couldn’t get a clear shot.” She bit her lower lip and arched her back, while he continued to study her face.
“Do you want me to stop talking?” he asked.
She could only nod, grateful for the opportunity to focus on the increasing flood of pleasure that was moving through her body.
He lay beside her with his cheek still resting on a hand, while he continued to plunge his finger in and out of her pulsing, scorching depths. She was impossibly wet down there, and the ever-increasing tension begged for release.
Needing to hold on to something, she grabbed his forearm, closed her hand around the firm bands of muscle, and thrust her hips upward to meet each of his deep, slick penetrations. At last, the tension seemed to burst out of her. Pleasure racked her brain, and she tossed her head on the pillow, feeling as wild as an animal. A moment later, her heart slowed its galloping pace, and she shuddered inwardly as each exhausted throb of relief vibrated through her.
He bent close to kiss her neck, lifted her shift and his kilt out of the way, and rolled on top of her. Her legs parted to accommodate him, and he swiveled his hips and touched the silky tip of his erection to the place where his hand had just been. The connection lit her on fire. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and wondered if he would claim her now.
“Why did you not resist me tonight?” he asked, rising up on both arms to look down at her in the candlelight.
“I don’t know.”
It was the honest truth. Though perhaps it had something to do with the dream.
“I’ll need you to be willing when I make love to you.”
