Page 67 of Waiting for a Scot Like You
Solid arms encircled her, as an unyielding, warm body fitted close to hers. She arched up to the lips that nuzzled the crown of her head.
“Not concerned about cuddling a stranger?” Duncan asked playfully.
“I know you,” she murmured. “In the daylight and the darkness, I know you.”
“Keep saying things like that, and I’ll be forced to ravish you.”
“Then, I won’t stop saying them.” She turned in his embrace and lifted on her toes to bring her mouth to his. It was heaven to kiss him beneath a starry summer sky, hear his breathing turn ragged, and feel his grip on her tighten as the kiss grew hotter.
“Want you so much,” he rumbled. “Been thinking about all the wicked ways I can make love to you. I’ve got ideas.”
Excitement leapt within her. “Our inn awaits.”
“Take us there,” he answered without hesitation.
The inn was quiet at this hour, and no one was around as they slipped inside. The climb up to the first floor took some time, as Duncan kept stopping to kiss her and scratch his teeth down her neck.
“There’s a whole bed just upstairs,” Beatrice gasped.
“No one else is around,” he said on a rasp. “I can bend you over and fuck you on the staircase.”
She inhaled sharply at the image. But the prospect of a mattress sounded exquisite, so she managed to plant her hands on his chest. His heart thundered beneath her palms.
“Bedchamber,” she ordered.
One of his eyebrows arched up. “Now you’re giving commands? That definitely merits punishment.” He reached down to stroke her ankle. “Better run, ma’am, because I aim to chase you.”
She needed no further urging and sprinted up the remainder of the stairs. His footfalls were quick behind her as she raced down the hallway. She flung open the door and just caught a glimpse of the handsome, rustic four-poster bed before he was on her.
His hold was secure as she thrashed in his arms. She felt his deep laugh in the soft places within her while he carried her to the bed. “Think to get away from me? Naughty.”
The mattress pressed against her back as he lay the length of his body atop hers. His weight on her was delicious, the feel of his hard cock curving into her belly even more so.
He pinned her wrists down, then kissed her, his tongue sweeping into her mouth in a hot, possessive demand. When she rubbed against him, trying to rouse him even more, he grunted.
“You know what happens to teasing vixens,” he growled. “They get trapped and tamed.”
“Like the sound of that,” she said breathlessly.
He glanced at the posts of the bed. “How many pairs of stockings did you purchase?”
The question was unexpected. “Three. Wearing one pair now.”
“I’m going to ruin them.” He looked between her wrists and the bed’s posts.
Her belly leapt as she realized what he meant. “Please. Ruin them.”
He made a low sound of approval and need. “Do. Not. Move.”
Nimbly, he rolled off her. She raised herself up on her elbows to watch him shut and lock the door, then rifle through her satchel.
“You moved,” he said, straightening. Her quim heated when she saw two pairs of her filmy stockings in his large, male hands.
“What if I did?” she challenged, tipping up her chin.
“First punishment, then. Take off your clothes.”
God, how she loved the sound of those words in his deep voice. “I can’t do that without moving.”
