Page 228 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“Are you all right, Rhoslyn?”

“Are ye going to get this over with or not, St. Claire?”

“You want me to be quick about it?” he asked.

Rhoslyn didn’t miss the husky note in his voice.

“How long can a man take to finish the job?” she replied.

“Enough time to ensure the lady is well satisfied.”

The brush of his fingers on her arm startled her and she jumped.

He stilled. “How can I think of doing more when a simple touch makes you jump?”

“‘Tis no’ that. Ye simply caught me off guard.”

“Shall I tell you everything I plan to do to you?”

A tremor rippled through her body at the thought of what planned to do to her. If the hardness of his member was any indication...she swallowed.

“First, I want to brush my fingers across your skin.” He began again to trace lazy circles along her arm.

Gooseflesh race along her flesh.

“You like that,” he murmured.

It wasn’t a question.

The finger moved upward across her shoulder, then neck, tickling the fine hair at her nape. She shivered.

“You like that, as well.” He slid his fingers into her hair and gently fisted her hair, pulling her head back. “Now I am going to kiss you.”

His lips touched hers and she closed her eyes, breathing deep. His tongue flicked at her mouth in warning, then swept inside. She was startled at the sweet taste of him, a combination of the wine he had drunk and something she couldn’t quite define.

He released her hair and murmured against her lips, “I am going to touch your breasts.”

He flattened his palm on her shoulder, and her heart beat faster as he slid his hand down until the warm palm cupped her breast. He broke the kiss and began nibbling on her ear. Heat pooled between her legs.

“You are very beautiful,” he whispered.

With his thumb, he grazed the tip of her stiffened nipple. Pleasure streaked through her.

“Shall I taste your breasts now, my lady?”

The hoarse note in his voice—and the question—made her head whirl. How did she answer such a question? But he waited for no answer, and dipped his head downward. Anticipation tightened her sex. When his warm mouth closed around the nipple she couldn’t halt a moan. Then, God help her, he suckled, and she wondered if he would bring her to pleasure that instant.

“I am going to touch you,” he said against her breast.

Touch her?

The hand on her breast stroked downward and she realized what he meant. He suckled harder and her senses muddled. He lightly ran his fingers over the sensitive dip in her belly, causing a quiver across her flesh she felt clear to her core. His large hand brushed her curls, then closed over her mound.

“St Claire,” she whispered.

“Aye, love?”

“This is strange.”