Page 109 of The Laird’s Sinful Claim

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“Well, we could make this bath more interestin’,” David said with a sinful smile. “Are ye in?”

“What is this about?” Elinor knew where this was headed and she was enjoying the feeling.

“Ye just have tae tell me if ye are in lass.”

“I’m in.”

David didn’t waste another moment. His hands, rough from years of wielding a sword and tending to the land, moved to the ties of his tunic, pulling them loose with deliberate slowness.

The fabric parted, revealing the broad expanse of his shoulders, the deep valleys between his muscles, the faint scars that mapped his skin like stories of battles fought and won.

Elinor’s breath hitched as she watched, her own fingers fumbling now, the ties of her gown slipping through her grasp.

She swallowed hard, her throat dry. The sound of his belt clinking as he unbuckled it sent a shiver down her spine. The weight of his gaze was almost physical, burning into her as she finally managed to loosen the last of her laces.

The gown slid from her shoulders in a whisper of fabric, pooling at her feet like melted snow. The cool air of the chamber kissed her bare skin, raising gooseflesh along her arms, her nipples tightening into stiff peaks. She stood before him in nothing but her shift, the thin linen doing little to hide the flush spreading across her chest, the way her body responded to his hunger.

David’s breath came faster, his chest rising and falling as his eyes raked over her.

“Ye’re so bonnie, Elinor,” he murmured, his voice rough, like gravel beneath boots.

The words sent a thrill through her, her knees nearly buckling. Before she could respond, he closed the distance between them, his calloused hands cupping her face.

She leaned into his touch, her lips parting as he dipped his head, his breath mingling with hers.

The first press of his mouth was soft, almost hesitant, as if he were savoring the taste of her. But the moment her lips moved against his, the kiss deepened, turning hungry, desperate.

His tongue slid between her teeth, tangling with hers, and she moaned into his mouth, her hands flying to his chest, her fingers curling into the hard planes of muscle. She could feel the heat of him, the way his body radiated warmth, the unmistakable press of his arousal against her thigh. Her core ached, a deep, throbbing need that made her shift restlessly against him.

David groaned, his hands sliding from her face to her waist, his grip firm as he pulled her flush against him. The hard ridge of his manhood pressed against her belly, and she gasped, breaking the kiss to drag in a shuddering breath.

His lips trailed down her jaw, along the column of her throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below her ear. “I’ve wanted this,” he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her. “Wanted ye.”

She could only whimper in response, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he stepped back, his eyes dark with promise.

The firelight caught the glint of something feral in his gaze as he reached for the buckle of his belt, the leather hissing as he pulled it free. The sound was obscene, a precursor to the filthy things she knew he’d do to her.

“Let me wash ye,” he said, his voice rough, his brogue thickening with desire. She nodded, her heart hammering against her ribs as he turned toward the wooden basin near the hearth.

The water inside steamed faintly, tendrils of warmth curling into the air. David dipped a linen cloth into the basin, wringing it out before turning back to her.

He moved slowly, as if he were memorizing every inch of her, his gaze lingering on the swell of her breasts beneath the shift, the way her nipples strained against the fabric. When he reached for her, his touch was reverent, the cloth gliding over her collarbone, down her arms, the water leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

Elinor’s breath came in short, sharp gasps as he worked the cloth lower, his knuckles brushing the sides of her breasts. The shift clung to her damp skin, the linen growing translucent, offering him glimpses of the pink buds beneath.

His free hand followed the path of the cloth, his fingers tracing the curve of her waist before sliding upward, his palm cupping the weight of her breast. She arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her as his thumb circled her nipple, the fabric doing little to dull the sensation.

“David,” she whispered, her voice trembling. He didn’t answer, his focus entirely on the way her body responded to him.

The cloth dropped from his fingers, forgotten, as he gripped the neckline of her shift and tugged. The fabric tore with a soft rip, baring her to his gaze. Her breasts spilled free, full and pale in the firelight, her nipples tight and begging for his mouth.

He didn’t make her wait. With a growl, he dipped his head, capturing one stiff peak between his lips. The wet heat of his mouth sent a jolt of pleasure straight to her core, her hips jerking forward as he sucked, his tongue flicking against the sensitive bud.

She cried out, her fingers tangling in his dark hair, holding him to her as he lavished attention on first one breast, then the other, his free hand kneading the flesh he wasn’t devouring.

Elinor was drowning in sensation, her body alight with need. Her hands found the laces of his trousers, her fingers working them loose with frantic urgency.