Page 26 of The Highlander's Auctioned Hellion
Lydia trembled as his mouth became more urgent, his hips pushing against her ruthlessly, his big body crushing her into the wall so hard she could barely breathe.
Her skin was on fire, her hips moving tentatively to meet his, the wild, unfamiliar heat that rippled through her a new, startling world she had never known existed.
She was suspended, held against the wall by him as he took what he wanted, his thick fingers pushing inside her robe, running along the base of her thighs.
She let out a startled cry of desperation, but at the sound, as quickly as it had come, the urgency evaporated, and the Laird was pulling away.
The hands that had just been clutching at her skin, bearing her weight, abruptly lowered her to the floor.
Lydia shuddered as she slid down the cold wall—was it always this cold?
The Laird swiftly disentangled himself from her robe, where the knot of it had caught against his belt.
He stepped back, his jaw working as he smoothed a hand down his shirt.
“I am sorry, lass,” he said, not meeting her eye. “I shouldnae have done that. I willnae again.”
“But—”
“I’ll only touch ye like that if you ask for it. I should never have allowed it to go so far.”
Before she could utter another word, he turned and left the room, closing the door gently behind him as Lydia tried to recover herself.
Her body still felt as if it was singing, like it had come alive for the first time.
Lydia clutched her throat, remembering the feel of his fingers against her, the need and desire in him.
Why would he touch me that way? Is this all a game to him?
Callum thundered through the corridors, his léine still half open from where her fingers had clutched at it.
How could I be so stupid?
He wanted to rip the paintings from the wall as he made his way down the dark corridor, his boots thudding over the flagstones like an angry heartbeat.
Still, the anger thrumming through his body was a comfort. It was better than the feelings of lust that had threatened to consume him.
Women were good for one thing, and that was driving a man insane. He had seen it with his brother, and he had no interest in becoming like him.
Moira had an icy grip on Angus from the moment she set foot in the castle, and as soon as his brother had met her, a part of him had been lost to Callum forever.
He had no business feeling anything for Lydia, and he would make sure that from that day onward, he would never behave like that again.
They were better as ships passing in the night, never close enough to touch. She would care for Eilis and Amy, and he would keep his damned distance.
Callum burst through the door at the end of the corridor and into the entrance hall of the castle, only to find Alexander standing there, staring at him with wide eyes.
The man-at-arms bowed smartly. “M’Laird.”
“Away with ye!” he barked.
It was a relief to let his temper run ragged, the pent-up energy, and the pleasure simmering beneath his skin spiraling downward and away as he glared at the man who had once been his best friend.
“Is all well, M’Laird?” Alexander asked.
“Aye, and why should it nae be?”
“Ye look as if ye are in a lather that is all,” the smirk on Alexander’s lips faded as Callum continued to glower at him.
