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I look down, and a sound escapes me I’ve never made before—one of pure, helpless wonder, pulled from somewhere deep as my pulse stumbles.

His cock is a thing of wonder.

James stills, watching my face like a man awaiting a verdict.

I’ve never seen a man bared before, yet I know with a certainty that borders on absolution that the fates didn’t make James Sinclair for modesty. He’s too compelling, too unapologetically male, to be kept from me now that I’ve been allowed to look.

“Gods…” I whisper, and my voice shakes on it. I drag my eyes up and down him again, like my body doesn’t believe what it’s being offered. “Ye’re utterly magnificent.”

Because he is. All of him. The breadth of his shoulders and the hard lines of him beneath the light, strength written into every curvature, as if the Highlands themselves shaped him with their hands. Skin marked not with vanity but with living, with work, with war, with weather. A man built for holding fast, for carrying weight, for making good on his assertions.

I’m still staring when he moves closer.

Not with haste, or bravado, but with that same relentless patience that has undone me piece by piece. He comes close enough that I feel the heat rolling off him before he ever touches me, and then he presses in until bare skin meets bare skin for the first time.

The sensation of his throbbing cock pressing into me is a welcomed shock.

I make a sound that momentarily embarrasses me, and then I stop caring, because he makes one too. The sound is from deep in his throat, as if the simple contact has taken the last of his restraint.

I lean up, capturing his lips. It isn’t shy. We’re long past holding back. It’s desperate with all the wanting I’m trying to show him. His lips part, and when I sweep my tongue into his waiting mouth, I feel the shudder that runs through him when I don’t soften, when I don’t yield. When I match him.

He cups my breasts, thumbs teasing the stiff peaks of my nipples until I moan into his eager mouth. His palms slide down my sides, tracing the curves of my waist, then over the swell of my rounded backside. He squeezes the firm flesh, pulling me closer into him, before his hands dip lower, gripping my thighs to lift me up.

I wrap my legs around his waist without hesitation, locking my ankles around his back. The movement aligns us perfectly, his hard length sliding against my slick centre, the wet heat of me dragging along his length. A jolt shoots through me, making me gasp a breathy “shite...” against his lips, my whole body quaking from the friction. He growls low in his throat, the sound primal, as the thick tip of him nudges my entrance, teasing us both with what’s coming.

With me still clinging to his body, he climbs onto the bed; the mattress dipping under our weight. He lowers us gently, laying me back against the soft linens while he hovers above, caging me in with his arms. My legs stay wrapped tight until he eases them apart, unwrapping me from him delicately, his gaze never leaving mine.

“Show yer husband how wet you are for his cock,” he says, his composure frayed.

Without a second thought, I glide a hand down my body seductively, over my breasts, my belly, until my fingers reach between my thighs. I swipe through my aching quim, gathering my arousal on my fingertips, then bring them up for him to see, glistening in the dim light.

He stares, transfixed by the evidence of my desire for him, a slow smile curving his lips. “Aye, such an obedient thing beneath me,” he whispers, praising my acquiescence. “Listenin’ so well for me.” Then, like I’m not already struggling enough, he takes those same fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean, moaning as he releases my fingers with a loud pop. My core flutters, hips twitching at the sight.

“Are ye ready, wife?” he asks, taking himself in hand.

I huff playfully, mischief sparking in me. “I’ve been ready since ye first touched me in that hollow. Stop teasin’ me.”

His expression turns tender. “I’ll be forever glad I waited for the perfect woman.”

Warmth blooms through me as he brushes his nose against mine. “Aye? Well, I still cannae believe a man as temptin’ as you managed to wait at all.”

His mouth curves. “Enjoy how talented I am on natural skill alone. It was always meant for you, love. Only you.”

My laugh is light, breathless, before I add with a teasing lilt, “You touch me like you were born knowin’ my body better than I ever could.”

James’s hand slides down like he means to prove he can take me apart again. He finds me already wanting, already ruined for modesty, and I bite down on a moan as he runs his fingers through me. He strokes me before pushing two fingers inside of me, and I clench around him.

He watches my face as if it’s a map, reading every flicker of hesitation and every crack of need.

He pumps into me slowly, using his thumb to rub my clit teasingly. I clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into flesh, something that he doesn’t seem to mind at all.

When he pulls free from me, his fingers glisten with the evidence of what he’s drawn from my body, and the sight alone nearly undoes me. For one reckless moment, I want to beg for a taste. But before I can speak, he wraps that same hand around himself, slowly stroking the length of his thick cock and spreading my arousal over him until he gleams in the light—readying himself to take me fully.

He positions himself at my entrance and holds my gaze as he pushes in with measured precision. The tip breaches me, stretching me open, and I gasp as my walls grip him like a vice.

I make a small sound I don’t mean to, and he stops immediately, breath caught, one hand on my hip, the other still on his base.

“Ellen…” he murmurs, voice taut with strain, asking permission without speaking it aloud.