Kiss of the Highlander

Page 102

She blushed, remembering exactly how wantonly she’d responded to his kiss. A tremor of excitement raced through her. He was her Drustan again! “So what was the saleslady’s name in Barrett’s? The bitchy, unattractive one,” she added, wrinkling her nose.
“Truth be told, I haven’t the veriest, lass. I had eyes for only you.”
Oh, God, what a great answer!
“Open the bletherin’ door!”
Tears misted her eyes as she leaped up to hit the top lance and knock it loose. It clattered to the floor, followed by the second one.
“And what was I wearing when you made love to me?” she said, kicking the third and fourth out of the way, still unable to believe that she had him back.
“When I made love to you?” he purred through the door. “Nothing. But before that you wore tan trews cut off at the thigh, a chemise cut off at the waist, boots named Timberland, socks named Polo Sport, and a red ribbon I—”
She yanked the door open. “Removed with your teeth and tongue,” she cried.
“Gwendolyn!” He crushed her in his arms and kissed her, a deep soul kiss that seared her all the way down to her toes.
When Gwen wrapped her arms around his neck, he cupped his hands beneath her bottom and lifted her, pulling her legs about his waist. She locked her ankles behind him. He was never getting away from her again.
“You want me, lass. Me. Knowing all that I am,” he said incredulously.
“Always will,” she mumbled against his mouth.
He laughed exultantly.
Their coming together was not a gentle thing. She tugged at his kilt, he tore at her trews, clothing flew this way and that, until, gasping for breath between kisses, they both stood naked near the staircase in the Greathall. Gwen glanced up at him, eyes widening, breath coming in short pants, as she belatedly realized where they were. Then her gaze drifted over his incredible body, and she forgot not only where she was but what century she was in. There was nothing but him.
Silvery eyes glittering, he grabbed her hand, tugged her down the corridor into the buttery, slammed the door shut with a kick, and flattened her up against the wall, leaving their clothing strewn about the hall.
Gwen pressed her palms against his muscular chest and sighed with pleasure. She couldn’t get enough of touching him. During the time he’d not known her, it had been the worst sort of torture, looking at him every day, unable to caress and kiss him. She had a lot of lost time to make up for, and began by tracing her hands up over his shoulders, down his back, skimming to his muscular hips. His skin was velvet over steel, he smelled of man and spice and every woman’s fantasy.
“Ah, God, I missed you, lass.” He took her mouth roughly, hands bracketing her face, kissing her so deeply that she couldn’t breathe, until he filled her lungs with his own breath.
“I missed you too,” she whimpered.
“I’m so sorry, Gwen,” he whispered, “for not believing you—”
“Apologize later. Kiss now!”
His laughter rolled erotic and rich in the dark buttery. He pushed her back atop sacks of grain and lowered himself over her, suspending his weight on his forearms. And he kissed her. Slow, intensely intimate kisses, and mad rushes of deep kisses. She drank him in as if he were the air she needed to survive.
Melting back against the sacks, she moaned when his muscular thigh slid between her legs. He traced hot, wet kisses down her neck, over her collarbones, across her shoulders. She wrapped her legs around his, rubbing against him wantonly, savoring the slick slide of him.
Drustan gazed down at her, marveling. She was so beautiful; her cheeks flushed, her eyes stormy with passion, her lips half parted on a soft gasp. She was his soul mate, smart, lovely, and tenacious. He would love her to his dying breath, and beyond if such was possible for a Druid and his mate. He would show her with his body all the things he felt for her, and mayhap she would murmur those tender words he’d so longed to hear back in the circle of stones when she’d given him her virginity.
She whimpered when he rasped his unshaven jaw against her nipples. She arched up, hungry for more. He shifted his body so the thick, hot length of him rested between her thighs, moving his hips in slow, even thrusts.
Then he pulled back, driving her mad, and proceeded to taste her from head to toe.
Starting at her toes.
Gwen tossed her head back in ecstasy. Long, velvety strokes of his tongue on her calves and ankles. Bending her legs, he traced silky kisses on the backs of her knees. Wet, hungry kisses on her thighs, teasing flickers against the sensitive skin where her hip met her leg.