“I’m a wanderer.” He shook his head. “No’ in the sense of women, but in the sense of never feeling as though I can stay still. I have a need for adventure. I’ve never made my castle a home, and I dinna know if I could.”
“Do you always adventure alone?”
The idea of the two of them riding off on the moors flashed before his mind’s eye and brought a longing so potent he felt it deep in his bones. “Nay.”
“Then what would stop you from bringing me with you?”
He had another vision of Rhiannon at the helm of his ship, her red-gold hair blowing in the wind. “Ye deserve better than that.”
“But what if I, too, long for adventure?”
He’d not thought of that before. But it all made sense now that she’d brought it up. The lass was his equivalent in nearly every way.
“But I’ll not force your hand or choose for you,” she said. “I’ve made it clear what I want.”
“I want it all,” he murmured, eyes locked on hers, wanting every image of their future that danced across the landscape of his mind.
“I do too.”
Mo chreach… He was well and truly lost now.
Ian’s hands clasped her face, and his lips reclaimed hers. The way she slid her tongue over his, confident in her desire for him, drove him mad. Her lips were warm, luscious, and tasted faintly of the sweet tarts the cook had packed for them to eat after supper. Never had a woman so actively wanted him for him. Usually, it was for a place in his household, or to say she’d bedded the great Ian Sinclair. But Rhiannon genuinely wanted him. Knowing that and feeling her touch him, cling to him, made his head spin with want. Sensation and thought collided, tumbling through his mind and body.
The scent of Rhiannon surrounded him, intoxicating him. To think he could walk away now was absolute madness. There was no way he was going to give her up. To hell with adventuring alone. When the time came that she was ready to settle down, he would welcome it. If only he could kiss her like this every day.
With one hand on her hip and the other on the small of her back, he hauled her closer, tucking her body perfectly to his. The heat of her curves crushed to his body and had him letting out a feral growl, which she answered with a soft moan in the back of her throat.
Needing more and not caring what the consequences would be, Ian gripped her arse and lifted her in his arms, her hips pressed to his. A shock of pleasure made him shudder as his cock was pressed more firmly against her. He pressed her back to the wall, praying the damn thing held up. Rhiannon held on tight, her fingers clutching his shoulders as they both surrendered to the pleasure of kissing.
“Heaven, save me,” he groaned as he sucked her lower lip.
“If saving means stopping, then I hope we are damned,” she murmured, her breaths ragged and shallow.
Ian growled, low and feral, yearning pulsing through his body. His cock throbbed with the need to be buried deep inside her. How many times had he already denied himself the pleasure?
All he had to do was slide her skirts up to her hips, flip up his plaid, and do just that. He could take her right here against this dilapidated wall. The power of his thrusts were likely to make the entire place collapse.
But they needed to slow down. Taking her virginity against a wall not only seemed wrong, but he also knew, somewhere deep inside, that they could play this game as long as he didn’t claim her wholly.
Ian slowly let her down but didn’t stop kissing her. When her feet were on the floor, he held her arms above her head, keeping her captive to his kiss. Rhiannon moaned against his lips, pressing her hips against him, her back arching. Her desire enflamed his own. Ian slid his lips from her mouth, down along her chin to her ear, teasing the lobe as she squirmed against him. He pinned her hips to his, pressing her hard against the rickety wood.
His cock throbbed, hard as stone and pleading for the heat between her thighs. With the heat emanating from the center of her, he knew that sliding inside her would be sweet heaven indeed. Thinking to quell the blaze in his blood, he refused to put his mouth on hers. Her tongue was driving him wild. Instead, he continued his path of kisses over her collarbone, but then, he couldn’t help himself; he moved lower to kiss above her plush breasts. She smelled of honey and tasted sweeter.
Touching her like this was enough to make him almost forget his vow never to spill inside a woman who wasn’t his wife.
Letting go of her hands where he held them above her head, he slid the backs of his knuckles feather-light down her arms to her ribs. Stopping now seemed an impossibility as his control ebbed away. Slowly, he cupped her breasts, kneading them, brushing his thumbs over the turgid peaks as she gasped.
“Ian,” she whimpered, her fingers clutching at the back of his neck.
The way she said his name, a mix of pleasure and surprise, sent a whirl of fresh desire through his body and straight to his groin. His cock strained, demanding he remove his plaid and claim the velvet flesh she offered. But he couldn’t do that… At least not until they’d said their vows—if she’d still have him at the end of this trip.
Nay, but he could make her quiver, offer her exquisite pleasure. And though he hadn’t lain with a woman for some time, he knew he was pretty damn good at making a woman’s thighs shake.
Trailing his lips over the silkiness of her breasts, he breathed hotly on her flesh, licking in teasing little flicks. Rhiannon gasped, her fingers scratching at his shoulders, urging him on. With his teeth, he tugged the front of her gown down, revealing one rose-colored nipple and then the other.
His voice husky with need, he said, “Ye have the most beautiful breasts.”
“Thank…you,” she managed to say, her gaze on his, eyes full of lust.
