"Ah, God, I missed you, lass." He took her mouth roughly, hands bracketing her face, kissing her so deeply that she couldn't breathe, until he filled her lungs with his own breath.
"I missed you too," she whimpered.
"I'm so sorry, Gwen," he whispered, "for not believing you—"
"Apologize later. Kiss now!"
His laughter rolled erotic and rich in the dark buttery. He pushed her back atop sacks of grain and lowered himself over her, suspending his weight on his forearms. And he kissed her. Slow, intensely intimate kisses, and mad rushes of deep kisses. She drank him in as if he were the air she needed to survive.
Melting back against the sacks, she moaned when his muscular thigh slid between her legs. He traced hot, wet kisses down her neck, over her collarbones, across her shoulders. She wrapped her legs around his, rubbing against him wantonly, savoring the slick slide of him.
Drustan gazed down at her, marveling. She was so beautiful; her cheeks flushed, her eyes stormy with passion, her lips half parted on a soft gasp. She was his soul mate, smart, lovely, and tenacious. He would love her to his dying breath, and beyond if such was possible for a Druid and his mate. He would show her with his body all the things he felt for her, and mayhap she would murmur those tender words he'd so longed to hear back in the circle of stones when she'd given him her virginity.
She whimpered when he rasped his unshaven jaw against her nipples. She arched up, hungry for more. He shifted his body so the thick, hot length of him rested between her thighs, moving his hips in slow, even thrusts.
Then he pulled back, driving her mad, and proceeded to taste her from head to toe.
Starting at her toes.
Gwen tossed her head back in ecstasy. Long, velvety strokes of his tongue on her calves and ankles. Bending her legs, he traced silky kisses on the backs of her knees. Wet, hungry kisses on her thighs, teasing flickers against the sensitive skin where her hip met her leg.
Then deep, warm, wet kisses where she needed him the most. Lapping and nibbling, his hands glided up her body to tease her nipples as he kissed and tasted her until she shuddered against his mouth, arching her hips up for more.
Resonance built to an exquisite peak, and she shattered, crying his name.
While she was still resonating with tiny tremors, he rolled her over and ran his tongue down her spine to the hollow where her back met her hips. Then kissed and tasted and nipped every inch of her bottom. Kneading, plumping, caressing, dangerously near the hottest part of her. But not quite there. She was going to die if he didn't get inside her, she thought, gritting her teeth. She burned, she ached for want of him.
Slipping his hand between her and the sacks, he palmed her woman's mound and pulled her back against him, resting the heavy ridge of his cock in the deft of her bottom. As he rubbed against her lush softness, he caught her tiny nub with his fingers, flicking lightly back and forth.
He savored the tiny cries she made, the soft pants and breathy moans, listened intently to discover just what touch elicited each sound, then played her again and again, bringing her dangerously near the peak—
—then denying for the pleasure of hearing her cries grow wilder, of feeling her hips buck back against him, of seeing such evidence of her desire. She knew what he was, and still wanted him with such hunger. It was more than he'd ever dreamed of having. If only she would say the words, those three simple words he longed to hear… Aye, he was a warrior, he was strong and manly, but, by Amergin, he wanted those words. He'd passed a lifetime believing a woman might never say them to him.
"Drustan!" she cried. "Please."
I love you, he thought, willing her to hear it. Willing her to say it. He traced a finger over her taut nub before slipping it inside her. He dosed his eyes and groaned as she clenched around him. When she bucked back against him wildly, the last vestige of his control snapped. He became mindless with need. Wrapping his hands around her waist, he thrust into her in one sleek motion.
She sobbed with pleasure, begged him not to stop, then murmured something so raggedly that he nearly missed it.
But nay, he would not let such words slip by him!
Trembling, he stopped mid-stroke and whispered hoarsely, "What did you just say?"
"I said'don't stop'," Gwen whimpered, pressing back against him.
"Not that—the other thing you just said," he demanded.
Gwen went still. It had slipped out without conscious thought—an impassioned declaration of her feelings—God, how she loved him! She, Gwen Cassidy, was utterly and deliriously in love. She spoke quietly, savoring the warmth of her feelings, putting every ounce of her heart and soul into the words. "I love you, Drustan."