Page 69 of The Highlander's Accidental Wife
She was almost sobbing, writhing as Damien stroked and petted her, his thumb rubbing wicked circles around her nub of pleasure. He kissed her neck, then pulled back. When Helena felt his eye on her, watching her, drinking in her pleasure, and demanding more than she was capable of giving, she shattered.
He held her as she shook and trembled, nearly boneless in his arms.
“Aye,” Damien murmured, trying to sound light-hearted, but his voice was rough. “That was a fair distraction.”
Sometime later, after Helena let Damien clean her, put her dress back on, and drank some water, she realized that the storm had passed.
Her body felt odd, relaxed and sensitive at the same time, as though Damien’s touch lingered on her skin. In the minutes after, she’d flushed every time he’d looked at her, and when his lips had quirked up, she’d remembered the brush of his beard against her sensitive breast.
As you are doing now?
Fixing her dress had been difficult, so they’d tied the pieces back together as best as they could, and then Damien pulled her cloak around her.
He’d been attending to the horses, leading them outside and ensuring that it was safe. Now, he returned, and Helena’s breathing quickened, her entire body heating up.
He looked her over and smiled. “Ye are alright?” he asked, and she nodded. “We need to head back. Another storm is comin’.”
“Of course,” Helena said.
She tried not to glance around, tried not to tell herself that she didn’t want to leave this cave.
“Ye have yer glasses and yer books?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Nodding, he led her outside, his touch gentle, and his gaze even more so. It made her heart flutter in her throat as she mounted Gorgon. She did not regret what had happened—she was more surprised that he had stopped. He had not sought his pleasure, nor had he tried to take her.
“Hel.” The rumble in his voice had her looking down. His big hand squeezed her thigh. “Stop lookin’ at me like that.”
“What do you mean?”
Damien’s mouth curved up. “Dinnae tease me. I ken what ye were thinkin’.” His hand tightened around her thigh, and she sucked in a breath. “Yer thoughts are as clear as day on yer face.”
She flushed bright red as he laughed and walked toward his horse. Forcing herself to look away from his strong, sure stride and the muscles in his bare back, she scanned the area around the cave. The evening was rapidly approaching, casting everything in shadow and gloom. The wind caused those shadows to leap and dance, and she stiffened.
“Damien,” she called out softly. He paused before swinging up onto Fife. Her heart pounded in her ears. “Did you hear that?”
Damien’s blue eye darkened, and he cocked his head, listening. It sent a thrill through her, to see the warrior emerge—and to have such a warrior listen to her.
“I think someone is there,” she said. “I heard something?—”
He drew his sword as something darted out of the rocks in a fit of flopping golden fur. Helena gasped, then laughed as Jolly rolled over and over, before coming to a stop at Damien’s feet.
“What the hell is this?”
“Jolly,” she said, relief washing over her. “Will you give him to me?”
“What are ye doin’ out here, ye foolish pup?” Damien chided as he lifted the dog by the scruff and looked into his face.
Jolly licked the air and panted happily, then yipped.
With a sigh, Damien carried him to Helena, who secured him on her lap. “Ye think he followed us?”
“He must have,” Helena said. “And hunkered down for the storm.”
The dog’s fur was only slightly damp, and he did not seem upset, merely interested in snuggling into her lap and then drifting off to sleep.
“That must be what I heard.”
