The Highlander Series(165)

She bowed underneath him when he found her other nipple and sucked it strongly into his mouth.

She was so taut, straining upward, her fingers dug so tight that she looked to be near pain. When he loosened his hold on her breast, she whimpered and stirred restlessly beneath him.

“Shh, lass, ’tis just beginning. Be at ease. Let me love you.”

He moved back until his feet were once again on the floor. He pulled at her dress until it came away, leaving her bare to his gaze.

He swallowed. In all his life, he’d never seen a lass more beautiful. Her skin glowed in the firelight. Creamy and smooth with nary an imperfection. She was perfectly fashioned, her hips rounded, her waist narrow, and generous breasts to fill a man’s hand and mouth.

Her belly was flat with a tiny, shallow indention at her navel that he was dying to run his tongue around.

His gaze drifted lower to the small patch of curls nestled at the apex of her legs, guarding her innocence and the sweetness found within.

He hadn’t thought it possible to grow harder than he already was. His cock strained against his trews until the very feel of the material drove him mad.

He didn’t want to frighten her, but if he didn’t shed his clothing soon, he was going to claw it from his flesh.

“Lie there while I undress,” he said in a low voice.

Her eyes widened as his fingers fumbled with the laces of his trews. Then he peeled the material away and his cock sprang free. The relief was so acute that he nearly went to his knees right then and there.

He yanked at his tunic and sent it sailing across the room. When he returned his gaze to Keeley, he saw that her gaze was fixed on his groin. He wasn’t sure whether she was appalled or curious. Her expression was a strange mixture of both.

He stepped between her thighs, and her hands rose automatically as if to ward him off.

He caught her wrists and held them as his thumbs caressed the soft pads of hers.

“ ’Tis nothing to be afraid of, Keeley. I won’t hurt you. I’ll be as gentle as a newborn lamb.”

And if it killed him, he wouldn’t break his word.





CHAPTER 18





Keeley held her breath until she was light-headed and near to fainting. When she let it out, it came out in a rush that unsteadied her.

Before her stood a man—a warrior—that had no equal. He was honed by the fires of battle. Muscled. Scarred. Lean. No spare flesh on any part of his body.

He towered over her, his strength a tangible thing in the small space of the chamber. He could so easily hurt her, and yet she trusted him fully. His gentleness soothed her and made her ache with longing.

But looking at his groin with his … appendage … jutting upward like a battle flag, she cast a doubtful look upward. “Are you sure … Are you sure we’ll … it’ll … fit?”

She nearly groaned with her humiliation. How was she supposed to act like a grown woman who’d been on her own for the last years when she swooned at the mere sight of a man’s shaft. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t seen one before. She’d seen his for that matter, but they’d all been at rest. Not flagging upward like a battle-ax.

It amazed her that something soft and unremarkable could grow to such a size and appear so menacing.

Alaric laughed softly, and his eyes gleamed with amusement as he gazed down at her.

“Aye, it’ll fit. ’Tis your duty to accommodate me.”

She arched an eyebrow at his arrogance. “ ’Tis my duty? Who made this rule, warrior?”

He grinned. “You’ll soften and grow damp. ’Tis my duty to make that happen.”

“I will?”

She tried to keep the confusion and question from her voice, but it came out breathy, almost excited.

He moved in close and then leaned over her, his body so close to hers that his heat surrounded her and seeped into her flesh. “Aye, you will. I’ll make certain of that.”

He settled onto her, scorching her as their skin molded and her body melted into his. The hair on his chest lightly abraded her skin and his hair fell over his shoulders and onto hers.

“ ’Tis unseemly for a man to have such beautiful hair,” she murmured.

He levered up and scowled down at her. “ ’Tis unseemly to tell a man he has beautiful hair.”

She smiled. “Oh, but I love to run my fingers through it. Do you remember me washing you when we were still in my cottage? I dried it and put a brush to it and then I rebraided the strands at your temples. ’Twas like silk, the finest I’ve ever felt.”

“I remember an enchantress with her hands sliding through my hair. ’Twas like a dream I never wished to waken from.”

She reached up to capture his hair with her fingers and let the strands twine around the tips.