Page 26 of The Story of his Highland Bride
“Are you trying to give me ideas for my novel?” Her teeth grazed her lower lip, her body yearning for him.
He pressed a smiling kiss to her neck and drew back, teasing her. “Am I one of those menacin’ two lads, where ye ceased readin’?”
“Why would you think that?” She blushed furiously, her cheeks so warm there was no way he couldn’t see how red they must be.
He chuckled. “I just want to ken, so I can decide if there’s somethin’ I can do to change how ye’ve written him. Perhaps, ye just daenae ken him well enough yet. Or, rather, Elizabeth doesnae. He might begin as someone that ye daenae think is a decent sort of lad, only to discover later that he… means well.”
He seems to be plotting the same book I’m writing,Eloise mused, her entire body flushing with heat.
“I think, once my hero starts to understand Elizabeth, the misunderstandings will be smoothed over, so they can start again—get to know each other from scratch,” she said hoarsely, her throat tightening with the need to feel him close to her again. Her skin tingled, just underneath her earlobe where he’d kissed her neck, and she wanted that tingle to spread throughout her.She wanted more. She wanted every bit of inspiration he could give her.
Jackson slowly closed the gap between them once more, his arm encircling her waist. His lips came to within an inch of hers, taunting her with the promise of passion, only to move them away as he pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.
“I daenae want to guess ahead, Eloise, but I think, in the end, yer hero will have nay choice but to choose to understand her,” he whispered, rising up slightly to press a tender kiss to her forehead. “Daenae make it easy for him, though. Ye cannae write it so it’s easy. After all, what would ye do if a lad from the future came to yer time and told ye of it. Ye’d think he was mad, would ye nae?”
“At first,” Eloise admitted, breathless. “But, as you suggested, I’d have to learn to trust my eyes, even if what I was seeing seemed impossible.”
He trailed his lips down from her brow, leaving his searing mark on her temple, moving to her cheek. “Ye daenae feel impossible,” he said softly. “Ye feel so real that… maybe I daenae want to believe ye’re from some other time. A time and place ye’re wantin’ to return to.”
Is he asking me to stay?She shook the troubling thought away, concentrating on the graze of his mouth against her skin as he pressed kisses all the way down to her lips.Shewas the one misunderstanding; she was certain of it. He seemed to like her, she knew she fancied him, so why shouldn’t they entertain thatfor as long as the snow kept her from the Cairns? What was the harm in a little winter fling to keep out the cold?
Any lingering worries faded as his mouth caught hers, and his arm around her waist pulled her closer to his broad chest. She thought of his heartbeat and wondered if it was racing again, curiosity pressing her palms to that hard muscle. A rapid thud greeted her, and she smiled against his lips. She couldn’t deny it; it was nice to have that effect on someone like him. The kind of man she could only have dreamed about.
The kiss was sweeter and slower than the last time, like they both knew they could take their time and enjoy one another. There was tenderness in place of desperation, their mouths meeting in a sensual rhythm that was somehow more passionate than a hungry crush of lips and flesh. Inside Eloise, an invisible cord tightened from her throat to that secret, hot part of her that longed for more of him. With every kiss, it pulled tighter, until she was panting with the delicious strain of it, like only he could relax her again.
Suddenly, Jackson rose up, taking Eloise with him. His powerful arms lifted her onto the edge of her writing desk, though she notice, quite sweetly, that he was careful to avoid her fledgling manuscript. Perhaps, her writer’s mind was getting carried away, but it was almost as if he really did want to influence the story that sat beside them, his kiss guiding her to believe that he was a friend and not a foe. More than a friend, if she’d let him be.
Their kiss deepened as he moved between her legs, running his hand up her thigh until she shivered with the anticipation of itall. But he still took his time, savoring her lips, slowly caressing her tongue with his, his hips rolling in tantalizing ebbs and flows that brought her own hand to his muscular backside, urging him even nearer.
Spurred on, she pulled the coarse fabric of his leine from the waistband of his kilt and slipped a hand underneath. His skin was warm and inviting, rippling as he moved in a way she’d never experienced. She leaned with him as he pressed her backward, one hand braced against the desk to protect the manuscript and papers that littered it.
She gasped as she felt the hardness of him, straining to reach her. There wasn’t much stopping them from taking their blossoming flirtation into something more, and she was blatantly, excitedly aware of it.
“I cannae restrain meself when I’m around ye,” Jackson growled, grazing his lips against her throat. “I nay longer think ye’re a witch, but yehavebewitched me.”
Eloise smiled, thinking of how long she’d waited for a man to say somethingthatromantic to her. “Then, despite being separated by hundreds of years, we’re not so different.”
“Daenae say that,” he urged.
“Say what?”
“That we’re separated by anythin’. Right now, I daenae want us to be,” he replied in a throaty tone that set off fireworks inside her: sparks exploding in her veins, a bonfire blazing in her chest.
How can you be real?She couldn’t fathom it.How can any of this be real?It almost seemed unfair to the rest of the world’s brokenhearted women, that she’d been sent through time to meet the perfect balm for her heartache. She realized it was the first time she’d thought of the situation as lucky, and not a curse she had to escape.
As his tongue danced with hers, his arm supporting her waist, his hips swaying in a manner that gave alotof insight into what a night with him would be like, the air in the room shifted. It was that pivotal moment, the atmosphere charged with electricity, where everything was about to change.
He seemed to feel it too, as his hand slipped higher up her thigh, his fingertips hooking underneath the lacy fabric of her underwear. There was no hesitation, this time, as he eased them down, like he’d spent enough time thinking about the flimsy garments to figure out how to remove them.
He’s thought about me.She glowed at the prospect, wondering what he’d imagined, what he’d pictured between them.
She grabbed his arms, squeezing tight as he touched her for the first time: light and teasing, rubbing slow circles that made her legs tremble. All the while, his lips crushed against hers, ravenous and fierce—feverishly and gloriously at odds with the tender caress of his fingertips.
“Yes, Jackson!” she cried. “Yes, like that!”
He paused for a moment, smiling. “Like that? Nay like this?”
His fingertips moved lower, his thumb replacing the slow, tantalizing circles that had her gasping. And as he pushed a finger inside her, her fingernails dug deeper into his muscled flesh, her breath abandoning her lungs all together as she arched her neck back. A second finger gave her half of what she truly wanted, like a consolation prize instead of the big trophy, but he knew exactly what he was doing.
