Beyond the Highland Myst(51)

He tugged gently at the bodice of her gown and slid it down over her shoulders, baring her breasts for his attentive expertise. "Beautiful," he murmured, his fingers teasing the puckered crests. When he circled the rosy peaks with his tongue, tendrils of fire radiated through her body, culminating in exquisite heat in her belly, and lower still.

"Oh my God!" Adrienne tossed her head in the fragrant grass and threaded her fingers possessively through his dark mane.

Hawk groaned, his hot breath fanning her breast. "How do you do this to me, lass?" She was all he'd ever dreamed he might one day have, then counseled himself sternly to give up the dreaming as a foolish lad's fancy.

But now he felt very much like that foolish lad again.

He almost laughed at the rightness of it. After all the women he'd had, he loved this one. The full enormity of his realization astounded and delighted him; he lowered his lips to hers, demanding wordlessly that she love him back. He put every ounce of longing, every shred of roguish seduction at his disposal into that silent plea—he kissed her so deeply, he no longer knew where he ended and she began. Her hips yielded when he thrust against her and rose hungrily to find his when he drew back. Primitive sounds escaped her lips, which were swollen and plum-colored from his fierce kisses.

"Love me, Adrienne," he commanded roughly. "Love me!"

Her only reply was a throaty moan.

"Tell me you want me, lass," he demanded hungrily against her lips.

"Please…" came her choked reply as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. I'll stop him in just a minute. It will be easier if I don't look at him.

"Do you want me, Adrienne?" Hawk asked, pulling back from their kiss. Her plea wasn't enough of an answer; he had to hear her say the words. That even with her eyes closed, she knew it was him on top of her, him kissing her.

But she didn't answer, and her eyes remained shut.

Hawk groaned and kissed her again anyway, losing himself for a moment in the texture and taste of her sweet lips. But doubt hammered at him. He was aware that if he didn't push the issue, he might yet carry her to his bed tonight in her sensual, drunken arousal. But he didn't want Adrienne incoherent. He wanted her wide-awake, fully aware and asking him to touch her. He wanted her to meet his gaze levelly with honest, unabashed hunger, and say the words. Hawk tore his mouth from hers, panting hard.

"Open your eyes, Adrienne." He forced himself to lie still; his hips rigid against the seductive arch of her body.

A wordless moment of shallow breaths passed, their lips inches apart.

"Look at me. Say my name. Now," Hawk commanded.

Adrienne's eyes opened just a sliver. Don't make me acknowledge this… don't ask so much! they pleaded. And again, her body quested upward, begging him to move atop her, to seduce her in her drunken arousal so that tomorrow she could pretend it hadn't been her choice.

"Look at me and say my name." His voice broke harshly on the words. His beautiful, chiseled mouth hovered only a whisper away from hers.

Adrienne stared up at him mutely. Tears stung her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks.

"Why can't you do it?" he demanded, his brogue rough velvet over broken glass. "Is it so impossible? Sidheach. That's all you have to say. Or James, even Lyon. Laird Douglas would do!" Anything but Adam.

Adrienne stared, revulsion at her own weakness choking her. She'd learned nothing! One more inch, one scant movement, and she would be lost as never before. Where the body goes… the heart will follow… say his name and kiss him again, then you can just kiss your soul goodbye. This man has the power to destroy you in ways Eberhard never could.

"What will it take to make you forget him?"

And he thought it was Adam, but it wasn't Adam. It was Eberhard. And there would be nothing left of her this time if she played the fool again.

"Say my name, lass, for the love of God!" Hawk roared. He was shaking with a mixture of barely restrained passion and disbelief that she could respond to him so erotically, so completely, yet still withhold his name. "If there is any chance for me at all, Adrienne, call out to me! If you can't even say my name, then I stand no chance of ever gaining your love!"

His last plea was the agonized cry of a wounded animal; it laid open her heart.

A pulse throbbed in his neck and she raised her hand to place trembling fingers against it. Harder and harder she steeled her heart, until it was safe again behind a glacier of remembrance and regret.

He pushed her hand away.

"Say it." He forced his demand through gritted teeth.

"Now isn't this just sooo touching. I'll help her." Olivia's voice dripped venom. "Just call him the king's whore," she purred. "That's all we ever called him."