Laird Donell MacDuff stared at the vixen crawling about on the floor, wearing nothing but a slip of fabric. His mouth hung open, his eyes wide. He must have fallen asleep quicker than he realized, but that was quite all right. Watching this little minx was making for a heavenly dream. He grunted as the slip of fabric opened a bit and the slope of a creamy white breast peeped through.
The woman in his dream looked up, her eyes sparkling green, and let out a shrill scream.
“Dinna be afraid, lass.” He walked to her and extended his hands.
She looked at him skeptically but still took the hands he offered. Her own were soft and feminine. He liked this dream. All the women in his world had rough, callused hands.
“Who…who are you?” she asked timidly, biting a plump red lip. Her skin glowed, and her fine flaxen hair waved about her face.
He held her at arm’s length, enjoying the curves pressing against the fabric of her covering.
“Ye know who I am,” he said gruffly, drawing her to his body. She smelled so sweet, like roses and wine. He wanted to take a sip of her, taste her.
“I do?” Her voice was feminine, with a strange accent but oh-so-sensual. He could see her nipples pebble through the silk as he rubbed her palms with his thumbs.
“Aye, ye are here in my dream, ye must know.”
A light twinkled in her eye at his words and her comprehension of them.
“A dream. Yes.”
“Come to me, let me taste ye,” he whispered, luring her closer.
Her body molded with his. The sinful wrap she wore allowed him to feel each and every curve, even with his body clothed. He must have forgotten to undress before falling asleep.
Donell leaned down and tasted the exquisite mouth of this fairy. She tasted just as sweet as he imagined. With a growl, he pressed his mouth to hers again, allowing his tongue to slip between two plump lips and into warm, wet velvet. She tasted sweeter inside than out. His body reacted violently to the lushness of the kiss and the sensations of her body rubbing against his.
He’d spent years hardening himself after Highland battles and skirmishes that stole half his men. He hadn’t let himself feel anything beyond duty. Yet one glance at the golden-haired stranger, and the walls he’d built began to crack.
He thanked the saints above he’d fallen asleep, for he was undoubtedly going to enjoy this dream. And when he woke, those walls would be back where they belonged.
4
Sleep had stolen over her like mist, thick and luminous. And in that shimmering haze, a Highlander appeared. But not just any Highlander. He was the one from the portrait. Only now, he was no longer paint and canvas now, but flesh and breath. Lainie had spent years writing about places she’d never truly touched. Now, in this stranger’s arms, she finally understood what it meant to feel like she belonged.
The air between them felt charged, fragile. If she leaned forward now, the rules she lived by might never recover. Maybe that was the point.
Lainie plunged headfirst into the kiss. Her hands ran up and down the length of the warm, muscular back and then lower, gripping the taut, round buttocks covered by rough plaid. This fantasy was so real. The man in the painting, the one she couldn’t stop thinking about, had come to life in her dreams. She would have to buy more Merlot and drink some each night.
The taste of the god in her arms was intoxicating, a blend of spicy, sweet, and pure maleness. She breathed in his masculine scent as she tasted him. Her eyes closed in ecstasy, and she moaned into his mouth. His hands were everywhere, massaging her back, her buttocks, and her arms. His fingers tickled their way up her sides, across her belly, gooseflesh following every path his fingers crossed. He tugged on the tie holding her robe in place and let it slip open.
Every fiber in her body was on fire, begging for more of his touch. She couldn’t remember the last time passion enveloped her with such intensity. The ache in her cherry, the need to be satisfied, was overwhelming. Was her mind and body telling her she needed to find a man? So much so that now she was having this realistic seduction from a man in a painting?
His mouth never left hers; the kiss only deepened with more fervor as he slipped her silky robe from her body, letting it drop in a pool at her feet. Her body quivered with anticipation.
The man hauled Lainie tightly against him, and she jumped at the feel of her bare breasts on the hot skin of his chest. His chest hair tickled her nipples, and they hardened, sending spirals of ecstasy shivering through her. His rough hands slid around her waist and up her stomach, gripping the undersides of her breasts. He lifted them as if measuring their weight, and then his thumbs, gentle as a breeze, rubbed over the pebbled peaks. She would not have thought a man of his size could be so gentle. But this was a dream, wasn’t it? And dreams were always the way you wanted them to be.
If this was what her subconscious desired, then she was more than willing to give in.
Her senses swirled, her nerves bundles of firing pleasure. Lainie moaned, her knees buckling. The man wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed his way down her neck and shoulders to her breasts. He kissed them softly, his tongue grazing her skin. His breath caressed her nipples until he finally took one inside his mouth. The feel of his mouth on her skin sent shockwaves from her breasts to the very core of her. Her body twitched and pulsed, begging for attention. The slickness of her folds, were hot and ready for him. He held her hips as he kissed a path to her belly, his tongue circling her navel. Her knees quaked, and Lainie didn’t think she’d be able to stand. She bit her lip, moaning.
Her head fell back, a moan spilling from her lips as his mouth moved lower, tracing fire across her skin until she forgot where she ended and he began. She gripped the back of his head as waves of pleasure coursed through her. His tongue was like magic, tracing patterns of fire across her, coaxing her higher until she trembled on the edge of reason. His hands gripped her hips and buttocks, massaging them, drawing her further into his mouth.
Lainie slipped her hands through his dark, wavy hair, caressing its thickness and then down to his shoulders, where his muscles rippled beneath her fingertips. The white-hot pleasure of his mouth devoured her, driving her to the edge. No man had ever been able to arouse such pleasure in her with his mouth. Of course, her dream man would be amazing…
“Ye taste like heaven,” he groaned into her flesh.
The sound of his burr was like liquid butter rolling off the very heat of her. Pulsing electricity shot through her bones. Her knees buckled, she gripped his shoulders tight, her nails finding anchor. She moaned again with the force of her orgasm rocking her entire body. Her hands slid up his neck, gripping his head against her until the waves subsided.
