The MacKinnon’s Bride(63)

Still she dared not open her eyes, dared not speak to break the sorcerer’s spell, but cried out exultantly when his lips kissed her bare belly. And sweet Jesu... those lips remained for the longest instant, unmoving, frozen in place, liquid flame against her bare flesh. Page reached out to hold him to her, wanting him never to go.

And then he wandered down to her thighs, nipping and kissing.

She gasped aloud, her heart pummeling against her ribs, as he dared to kiss her in the most private of places. Her body convulsed with a pleasure so incredible, it was almost like a glimpse into Heaven itself. And then when his tongue slipped within her body to explore so boldly, she thought she would dissolve into a liquid pool beneath him.

“Oh, yes,” she whispered. “Oh... my... yessss...”

“Sweet,” he murmured, and pushed his tongue within her body, tasting with abandon, until Page thought her heart would shatter into a thousand brilliant pieces.

Jesu, but she could scarce bear any more.

“Please,” she murmured, and whimpered, writhing beneath him, not truly understanding what it was she was needing, but knowing instinctively it was something more.

His hands moved over her body more insistently now, while his lips continued to worship her, and then he slid both hands beneath her bottom, cupping her, lifting her for his pleasure, and Page felt her eyes cross behind her lids, so much gratification did it bring her. Her body felt on the verge of some undiscovered glory, and she wanted so desperately to reach for it, cling to it, hold it forever.

And then suddenly he moaned, a tormented sound, and stopped, lowering her, releasing her to the ground.

Page’s lashes flew wide, and she stared into his fevered eyes, her heart hammering fiercely.

He knelt before her, his expression sober, his eyes pleading. “I want you, lass,” he whispered once more.





chapter 20





Christ, but he couldn’t do it.

He’d thought he could, but he couldn’t.

Wanting her was driving him to a madness beyond bearing.

His body ached, he needed her so desperately. She blinked, her face prettily flushed, and nodded. But God, he didn’t think she could possibly understand, though he wanted so badly to believe that she did.

“Are ye sure, lass?” he asked once more, and his voice was thick with need.

For answer, she rose up, reaching forward to catch trembling fingers within his belt, her wide, beautiful eyes never leaving his. His heart hammering, he undid the belt at once, and tossed it quickly away, holding her gaze, afeared she’d change her mind, afeared she’d not.

Christ, but he wanted this. More than he could recall wanting anything at all.

Every muscle in his body tensed as she once again reached forward to touch his breacan, just a delicate brush of her fingers, nothing bolder, but he understood as though she’d spoken the request aloud and he drew it off at once, discarding the blanket upon the grass. He knelt before her, wearing only his short tunic, and he reached down to draw it off, as well, needing her to see the full measure of his desire.

Needing her to understand before it was too late. If she would flee him, it must be now. Before he lost what will remained.

Before he dared to touch her once more.

One more kiss would seal her fate.

And bind her to him eternally.

She stared up at him, her eyes wide, her face flushed.

Page’s throat tightened at the sight of the man kneeling before her, gloriously naked, his skin bronzed from the sun, and his body tumescent with desire. She tried not to look so well, but could scarce keep herself from it. She swallowed her fear.

How could a man such as this... want her?

She wanted to weep with joy, for the evidence was there before her, undeniable in its magnificence. She wanted to strip herself too, be together with him as God had made them both, but was afeared he would find her lacking, and so she lay, marveling at the beauty of the man before her.

“D’ ye wish to stop, lass?” he asked her, his voice husky.

Page shook her head at once, meeting his gaze, her face burning with chagrin as she realized he’d caught her staring. “Nay,” she said softly, and then asked, “D-do you?” She watched as his beautiful lips broke into a disarming smile.

He chuckled lightly. “Nay, lass, I dinna.” He shook his head and reached out. She stared at his hand a bewildered instant, dumbfounded. “Give me your hand,” he commanded her, smiling still.

Page blinked, and yielded to him, her heart beating fiercely. She let him draw her to her knees before him, unable to keep her gaze from lowering once again to that very male part of him.

“Och, lass, but do I look like I wish to stop?” he teased.

Her gaze flew to his. Page couldn’t speak to answer, and he didn’t give her the opportunity. His hands reached out, grasping her waist, squeezing gently, and he closed his eyes, as though savoring the feel of her body beneath his hands.