To Steal a Highlander's Heart(25)

Her voice sounded thick and strained, echoing the tension in his throat. Throwing a glance around, he spied the bottle on the bedside table and took both hands from her hair to reach for it. Alana remained bent over the bowl, bottom thrust out, the curve of it clear against her skirts. He took just a moment to enjoy the sight, even as he cursed his lack of willpower before pulling the stopper from the bottle and giving it a sniff. It smelled of flowers, soft and feminine like Alana and another, undesirable scent lingered beneath it. He shrugged and tipped some of the oil-like substance into his hand.

"How much—?"

"Just a little."

Ach. He eyed the pool of tonic in his palm and tried to tip some back into the bottle. When he thought he had enough, he pressed his fingers to either side of her head and raised it away from the bowl, allowing him to smooth the oil into her hair. Alana sighed as he worked at her scalp. What he would not give to do the same to the rest of her.

Alana. Naked. Covered in oil. Sighing as he trailed his fingers over her slippery skin.

Hell fire.

One restorative breath later, he'd finished and almost had control of his senses. Offering the towel, he forced himself to turn away as she used it to dab at her wet hair. The chambers were too small, the air too stifling. He had to get out. A glance over his shoulder held him in place as she eyed him.

Water dripped down her face and lips, her hair a tangled mess over one shoulder as she continued to rub the towel over it. The years disappeared and he remembered the girl who had once been his best friend. And yet that girl wasn't nearly as enticing as the one stood before him. Both of them combined were a potent mixture.

"Thank ye," she said with a gentle smile.

Mayhap just one moment wouldn't hurt. Just enough to remove her from his thoughts. A strange weakening sensation invaded his muscles and he turned to take the towel from her unresisting hands. Throwing it over her shoulders, he used it to draw her toward him

"What are ye doing, Morgann?" she asked breathily, cheeks darkening.

A heavy pulse resounded through his head as he patted at her hair. "Taking care of ye."

Lips parting, she dropped her gaze from him, golden lashes fanning against her skin. "Ye dinnae need to do that."

"I like taking care of ye." Inwardly he groaned. Where had that come from?

"Ye take care of many people." That green gaze latched back onto his, making his chest tight. "I see that, ye know? I remember the pride ye took in yer clan, in being the future laird."

"Aye, well..." Hell, she read him far too easily. It should have terrified him but it didn't.

“I like ye taking care of me.” The colour in her face spread and her pulse fluttered beneath his thumb.

He groaned as he moved closer still. “Ye create a weakness in me, Alana. It makes me wish—nay long—for things to be different. A highlander should never be weak.” His voice came out raw and ragged.

She moved up onto her tiptoes, closing the gap between them. Her lips were temptingly close and he watched them carefully as she spoke. “There’s no weakness in knowing what ye want.”

“I dinnae think ye know what ye want. Unless ye are hoping to seduce me into letting ye go again.”

Alana pressed her lips together, supressing a grin. “Ye’ve already said I cannae seduce ye. Did ye lie?”

“Mayhap.”

Warm breath skimmed his lips. Was she seducing him or was he the one playing the game of seduction? She lured him in yet made no further moves. The final decision was his.

He surrendered. What other choice did he have? With a growl, he claimed her mouth, the heat of her lips making his stomach flip, his skin prickle. Grip strong on the towel, he kept her pinned to him, almost afraid she would make an escape.

And while he anticipated his reaction to her, he didn’t expect her fiery response. Moist, gentle warmth greeted him as she opened her mouth and flicked her tongue over his bottom lip. His entire being tensed. She widened her mouth with a small whimper, allowing him better access as her hands trailed up his arms and around his neck.

Damp hair snagged briefly in his stubble as Morgann tilted his head to get to the sweet taste of Alana. Better than the finest wine, her flavour was subtle and wholly addictive. In the back of his mind, he feared he may harm her tender skin with his rough bristle but nothing would prevent him from making the most of this kiss.

The floral scent of her hair seemed to increase with the heat of their kiss. Little murmurs and soft, sensual sounds came from Alana as he twined his tongue with hers, greedily taking all she could give. His grip around the towel remained firm, not quite trusting himself to let his hands explore her figure. Somewhere, deep down, he remembered he only intended to kiss her.