Page 56 of Too Scot to Handle
Anwen closed her eyes, and Colin brushed kisses to her eyelids. “You excel at this callow swaining business, sir.”
“I’ll excel at the courting too, seeing as we’re off to such a fine start.”
Anwen’s skirts whispered about her ankles and a warm caress glided up her calf. Colin’s touch was callused, slow, and novel, but not unpleasant.
“Your mind is busy, lass. I can’t imagine we’re supposed to think our way through a courtship.”
No witty or even coherent reply occurred to her, so she occupied herself with the interesting task of kissing Colin. He tasted of mint. His tongue brushed her lower lip, and Anwen devoted herself to learning the contours of his mouth.
Megan had said that being courted had been wonderful beyond description. She had been right.
“Spread your knees a wee…aye, like that.”
How bold he was, though Anwen didn’t feel rushed or presumed upon. She felt cherished and curious.
“Do I get to touch you like this some time?” she asked.
“Whenever ye like.”
She slid a hand inside his shirt, felt the beat of his heart beneath her palm, the exact texture of the hair dusting his chest.
His fingers slid higher, and Anwen went still, focused on the sensations Colin created as he stroked her knees and thighs. Her breasts ached, and frustration entwined with pleasure.
“This isn’t working,” she said. “I’m getting more bothered.” So was he, if the solid ridge of flesh pressing against her hip was any indication. Impressively bothered.
“It’s working.”
They were arguing again, which reassured Anwen that Colin knew what he was about. His caresses drifted higher, to ruffle the curls at the juncture of her thighs.
She turned her face into his shoulder and surrendered herself to his expertise. His touch was at once careful and bold, reassuring and daring.
“Are you sure this is part of courtship, Colin MacHugh?”
“It’s part of our courtship. A significant part, if you enjoy it. Or I can stop.”
Colin’s fingers glossed over intimate flesh, and sensation streaked through Anwen like the ignis fatuus that glowed in wild places deep in the night. Like those elusive lights, the pleasure flickered and faded on the instant.
“Don’t stop, but don’t…”
His touched slowed.
“Colin MacHugh, tease me at your peril.”
“How I adore a woman who knows what she wants.”
Anwen didn’t know exactly what she wanted, but she trusted Colin could find it for her. A feeling like vertigo stole over her, so that instead of gravity, Colin’s touch was what kept her oriented. All of Anwen’s awareness focused on his caresses, on the rhythm of his breathing, on the heat and longing he generated.
“Don’t chase it,” he said, kissing her brow. “Let it light upon you from within.”
Colin’s breath whispered across her cheek, just as the pleasure caught, ignited, and burst forth into feelings too intense to qualify as mere sensation. Anwen clung to Colin, shuddered against him, bucked up into his touch, and shuddered yet more.
Nothing about the moment was dignified, but everything about it was precious. Colin’s hand rested over her sex as her body quieted. His heat and strength sheltered her, while a maelstrom of tenderness buffeted her from within.
“I had no idea,” she said. “No earthly notion. No inkling. No suspicion. Mother of God.”
If Colin had told her that colors existed she’d never perceived, or there were lands beneath the earth, and kingdoms in the sky, she could not have been more dumbfounded.
Or pleased.
