Page 73 of Too Scot to Handle
“Hurry, please.”
He cupped her jaw and kissed her, another open-mouthed, possessive intimacy that gave Anwen a focus for the urgency uncoiling inside her. She kissed him back, tangling her tongue with his, fisting her hands in his hair.
“Enough of that now. Lie back, Anwen.”
“I can’t kiss you if I’m lying—”
Colin shoved a pillow behind her. “Please.”
Anwen flopped back, out of breath, out of sorts, out of patience. “I want rainbows, Colin MacHugh, big, colorful, rainbows with sparkly—”
He peeled aside the layers of silk and cotton covering her breasts.
“With my body,” he whispered, “and with all the rainbows you can withstand, I thee worship.”
With his mouth, he drove her barmy, kissing, nuzzling, drawing on her gently, caressing with a maddening sense of what was not quite enough, then not quite too much. These pleasures were new for Anwen, though she also sensed Colin was enjoying himself, indulging in fantasies long anticipated, and so she mustered the ability to relax into his caresses.
“That’s better,” he said, resting his cheek against the slope her of breast. “I didn’t want to neglect the color pink, ye see. Part of every self-respecting rainbow.”
Anwen flexed her hips in response to that nonsense and Colin drew in a sharp breath.
“Right,” he said, straightening. “Now comes the sparkly part.” He unbuttoned his falls and Anwen sat up enough to watch him.
“More pink,” she said, glossing her finger over intimate male flesh. “Maybe this is where the color maiden’s blush truly originates.”
Colin’s hands fell to his sides, and for a few quiet moments, Anwen explored his contours.
“If ye keep that up, lass, ye’ll make me blush.”
“I’ll bring you rainbows.” That her touch pleased Colin was a heady realization, for all the strangeness Anwen yet felt to see him aroused. “I’ve seen a replica of the Apollo Belvedere, and your proportions and his are very close—except here.”
“Apollo didn’t have you to inspire him, poor sod.”
Anwen wrapped her hand around Colin’s shaft. “Let’s inspire each other.” Wasn’t that what a strong marriage should be? A source of mutual inspiration?
Colin kissed her back onto the pillow, and she let go of him. The next part was curious, sweet, and breath-stealing. Colin took himself in hand and teased at her sex. The sensations were similar to what he’d inspired on previous occasions, but…more.
“We’ll take this slowly,” he said. “Your word on it, Anwen.”
“Slowly,” she said, “and soon.”
He pushed inside her, and her body eased around him. She was slick with desire, though Colin was maddeningly—excruciatingly—patient. Tendrils of yearning wrapped Anwen more tightly the more deeply he joined them, until she cast off into a pleasure so profound it nearly replaced consciousness.
“You’ve a short fuse,” he panted, going still.
Anwen assembled his words into a fragment of meaning. “That was marvelous.” More marvelous than anything they’d done previously. “Are we finished?”
“No, love. We’re barely getting started.”
Oh, my. “I’m not sure I have another rainbow in me.” She felt as if light had burst through every part of her, as if she’d found a small piece of the sun to carry in her heart forevermore. The tenderness was as overwhelming as the joy and the pleasure.
“You’ve endless rainbows left,” Colin said, moving as if to withdraw. “I’ll prove it to you.”
Anwen locked her ankles at the small of his back, certain that unjoining from him would kill her, but there was no need. He eased forward in a slow, sure thrust that made her want to laugh and weep—and move.
“Oh, you…” Colin whispered, as Anwen caught his rhythm.
She lost track of time, place, everything except Colin, and making love with him in her favorite place in the world. He was patient, inventive, and devious, and when he finally withdrew from her, Anwen wanted to call him back, rather than endure the sense of being parted from him.
