Page 75 of Waiting for a Scot Like You
“Take me to bed, Duncan,” she whispered against his mouth. “This is our last night together, and tonight... I want gentleness.”
“As you wish.” He gathered all her softness in his arms and carried her to the bed. Laying her down, he stroked his hands over her hair, down her cheek, along the length of her arm, until he wove their fingers together.
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. She gazed back at him, her eyes dark and shining and filled with more than desire—emotion gleamed there, but he did not knowwhatemotion.
Time was not his friend. Tomorrow, God willing, they would leave this place and reach Lord Gibb’s. Delivering her to the house party’s doorstep would mean the end of their idyll together.
He fought against the pain that threatened to slice him apart. She had not asked him to stay with her, andhe couldn’t press her to do so, not when she’d been so clear that what she required now was freedom.
By the end of the following day, he’d be on his way back to London—without her.
If thiswasto be their final night together, he’d sure as hell make it memorable. Because there would never be another Beatrice, and he hoped that, for her, there would never be another like him in her bed and in her life.
He bent over her and kissed her, long and deep. Desire pounded beneath his skin, and he held the back of her neck to anchor them both to this moment.
“Let me see you,” she said breathlessly.
He released her to tug his shirt off and did not miss how she licked her lips when he pulled the fabric to reveal his torso. Her expression became positively avaricious when he removed his breeches.
“I shall miss that beautiful cock,” she murmured.
He said nothing, wanting to be more to her than something to fuck. The appendage itself mattered far less than the meaning of her words—this was indeed going to be a goodbye.
This would be what he could give her, how he could imprint himself on her the way she had him, woven into the very fabric of his being.
His hands went to the tie of her robe, tugging on the ribbon until it came loose, and then he peeled back the fine cotton to reveal her nudity.
Her gaze slid away from his—for all that they haddone with and to each other, she still held on to some uncertainty about her body. But it told a tale of the wonders she’d experienced and all that she’d accomplished and survived.
Duncan hated the world just then, how it insisted that women had a very limited window of desirability, supposedly the only part of them that mattered. What a load of bollocks.
Running his finger along her jaw, he gently turned her head so that their gazes held.
“You’re so lovely,” he rumbled. He cupped her breast. “Here.” He then laid his palm atop her heart. “And here.”
The look of delighted wonderment on her face would stay with him for all the decades that would follow.
“And...” He grinned wickedly as he stroked along her mound. “Here. Definitely here.”
She laughed, and he loved to watch how her laughter traveled through her. He bent down to kiss her again. As he did, he lightly, softly stroked her, letting her body tell him when he should slow and when he should go further. His fingers were soon slick with her arousal. She writhed beneath him, filling his mouth with her moans.
After guiding her to sit up, he climbed onto the bed and sat on the edge before tugging her to him. She understood what he wanted, and with a delectable flush across her cheeks and chest, moved to straddle him.
They faced each other, their eyes level as they lookeddeeply into each other. She positioned herself so that the head of his cock met her wet, waiting opening. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she sank down, filling herself with him. They gasped together, pulling breath from each other, as though they were each necessary for the other’s survival.
He went motionless, wanting this moment to last as long as it could.
“I love how you feel inside me,” she said huskily.
“I love to be inside you.” He took her mouth with his. At the same time, he moved his hips, thrusting.
She gasped, her gaze going hazy. “Oh, yes. Just like that.”
He held her hips firmly as he stroked in and out of her. She took up the rhythm, rising and lowering to take him within her.
Pleasure arced up his spine, and he fought the need to fuck her hard and fast. This was to be a slow savoring. Gentle, as she wanted. So he gave her that, his movements unhurried, long, slick thrusts that he hoped touched every part of her.
She’d said she wanted gentleness, but soon she rode him vigorously, and he met her with his own hungry strokes. He knew now the little mewls she made as she approached her climax, so he reached between their bodies to strum her clitoris.
