Beyond the Highland Mist

Page 24

“Yes, you do, lass, and entirely too much,” he interrupted, his hooded gaze mocking. “So stop thinking for a moment, will you? Just feel.” He kissed her swiftly, taking erotic advantage of her lips, which were still parted in mid-protest. Adrienne pushed at his chest, but he paid no heed to her resistance.
The Hawk buried his hands in her hair, tilting her head back to kiss her more deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth. His lips were demanding, his embrace possessive and strong, and when he leaned his hips against her body, he was insistently, undeniably male. He challenged her with his kiss, wordlessly demanding that she acknowledge the tension and heat that existed between them—a heat that was capable of incinerating a tender heart or welding two hearts into one. Desire shuddered through her so intensely that she moaned, confused and afraid. Adrienne knew it was dangerous to enjoy his touch, too risky to permit what could surely become addictive pleasure.
The Hawk’s thumb played at the corner of her mouth, pressuring her to surrender completely to his mastery. Aroused, curious, helpless to resist, Adrienne yielded. The kiss he rewarded her with made her tremble; it was a kiss guaranteed to strip away her defenses.
And then where would she be? Vulnerable again—a fool for a beautiful man, again.
Hawk’s hands slid from Adrienne’s hair to cup her breasts, and the ensuing dampness between her thighs shocked her into awareness of her eroding control. Adrienne jerked, determined not to be just another one of this shameless womanizer’s conquests. “Let me go! You said one kiss! This wasn’t part of the bargain!”
The Hawk froze. He drew his head back, his strong hands still cupping her breasts, and searched her face intently, almost angrily. Whatever it was he looked for, she could tell he wasn’t satisfied. Not satisfied at all.
He scrutinized her wide eyes a moment longer, then turned his broad back to her and scooped out a handful of coffee beans.
Adrienne rubbed irritably at her lips, as if she could brush away the lingering, unforgettable pleasure of his touch. As they exited the buttery and walked down the long corridor in silence, refusing to look at each other, the Hawk wrapped the beans in a cloth and tucked them in his sporran.
Just outside the Greathall he stopped and, as if tethered by a common leash, she halted in her tracks.
“Tell me you felt it,” his low voice commanded, and still they didn’t look at each other. She studied the floor for dust eddies while he studied the ceiling for cobwebs.
“Felt what?” She barely kept her voice from breaking. A kiss to build a dream on, big beautiful man?
He yanked her against his body; undeterred when she averted her face, he lowered his head and scattered kisses upon the high curves of her breasts where they pushed against the scooped neckline of her gown.
“Stop it!”
He raised his head, a snarl darkening his face. “Tell me you felt it too!”
The moment hovered, full of possibilities. It stretched into uncertainty and, in her fear, was lost.
“Me? I was thinking on Adam.”
How could a man’s eyes change from such burning intensity to such cold flat orbs in less than an instant? How could such an open face become so shuttered? A noble face become so savage?
“The next time you’re foolish enough to say that after I touch you, I won’t be responsible for my actions, lass.”
Adrienne closed her eyes. Hide it, hide it, don’t let him see how he affects you. “There won’t be a next time you touch me.”
“There will be a next time every day, Adrienne Douglas. You belong to me. And I can only be pushed so far. Adam can be sent away. Everyone can be sent away. Coffee can be sent away. I control everything you want. I can be very good to you if you’re willing to try. The only thing I can’t negotiate about is Adam. So be willing to try with me and all I ask is that you forgo Adam and never say his name to me. If you can grant me that wee boon, I will demand naught else but the price for your coffee each morn. And I promise you I won’t make it too high.”
The kiss was too high. Too dangerous in itself. “By what right—”
“By might. ’Tis simple enough.”
“Brute force—”
“Don’t bother trying to guilt me. Ask my mother. It doesn’t work.”
Well, well. No chivalry here, she noted. But all in all, the deal he offered was more reasonable than the myriad alternatives. He could demand all his husbandly prerogatives rather than one small kiss each morning. She could live through it. “A kiss each morning? That’s all you seek in return for my not mentioning Adam to you? And I get my coffee every day?”