Page 112 of Tempting the Highland Spy
Her fingertips seemed to dance over his skin, stirring his wanting to a fever pitch. She skimmed the length of his chest, slowing but not stopping when she came to his trousers. Her eyes sparkling with delight, she boldly slid her hand over the ridge of his erection.
She traced the length of his aroused cock with her fingers. “My, you do like it, don’t you?”
Much more of that, and he’d lose control. She seemed to read his thoughts again. Temptation flared in her dark eyes.
“I do want you, Harry,” she murmured against his ear. “I want this night with you. I wantyouso badly, words are utterly inadequate.”
“I understand that feeling all too well, darling.” he said, peeling the gown from her lovely body. He lifted her into the cradle of his arms.
“I’m quite capable of walking,” she said with a giggle.
“Indulge me,” he said, carrying her to the bed. Placing her on the mattress, he drank her in as he stripped off his trousers and pitched them onto a nearby chair.
“Good God, you’re beautiful,” he said, not caring that he repeated himself. No other word fit quite as well.Beautiful.She was a beauty—everything about her was lovely. Her face. Her hair. The lilt of her voice. The kindness in her heart. The way she cared about her daft aunt.
All of her was beautiful.
And he needed her in his arms. He needed to savor her touch tonight. And pray the memory would sustain him after they went their separate ways.
Prowling over her, he kissed her again, small feathery kisses over her throat and her breasts and the flat plane of her belly. He nibbled a teasing path along the curve of her hip, along the length of her leg, stirring her hunger for him until he found that delicate spot between her thighs. Treasuring every moan, every sigh, every whimper, he anointed her with tiny caresses until she writhed against him, utterly mad for him.
Mad for him.
He clasped her hips in a gentle hold as he brought her closer and closer to release.
When her climax came, she bucked against him, unrestrained. Hungry for every nuance of pleasure.
He held her close, flesh to flesh, heart to heart. When she was ready, he entered her.
Slowly. So very slowly. He wanted to etch every touch and every sensation into his memory.
Together, they sought another peak. Taking and giving. Surrendering and conquering.
They clung to one another as the rush of pleasure overtook them.
Breathless, he rolled onto his back, still holding her near, still savoring the heat of her body against his. Closing his eyes, he smiled to himself as Grace rested her head on his chest.
“I can feel your heartbeat,” she whispered. “I treasure every moment in your arms.”
Her words seemed a confession. He opened his eyes, meeting her warm gaze. And for the first time he could remember, he was undeniably content.
The words he’d searched for—the words that might explain what he’d been feeling, if only to himself—came to him.
I love her.
By thunder, that was it.
He loved her—a woman who’d soon be an ocean away.
A woman he wasn’t meant to have.
Bloody hell, I am a fool.
Curving an arm around her, he kissed her again. He needed that tender contact, that taste of passion.
He wanted her, more than he’d ever wanted anything in all his days.
Helovedher.
