Page 16 of Highlanders for the Holidays
Chapter 4
Scarcely realizing what she did, Ysenda began gliding her hands beneath his surcoat. His collar bone was hard and smooth under her fingers. His pulse beat forcefully at his throat. The muscles of his chest flexed beneath her touch. She slid her palms outward. The garment loosened, slipping from his massive shoulders.
Encouraged by her boldness, he rewarded her in kind. He tugged the neckline of her gown lower and lower until it perched precariously on the tips of her breasts.
When their tongues began to entwine, she lost all hope of propriety and control. An erotic vibration began in her ears, blocking out the voice of reason. She pulled at his clothing, eager for his flesh.
He growled inside her mouth like a hungry, wild beast. And she let him feed upon her. She leaned against him, yearning to be closer. At last he pushed her sleeves down, baring her breasts so he could press his warm skin to hers.
It was heaven—this feeling—and she never wanted it to end. Where their naked flesh made contact, it seemed to melt together. Their tongues mated, creating the most intoxicating ambrosia.
She let her hands roam over him with abandon. They swept across his sleek muscles and delved into his lush hair. She tried to memorize every inch of him with her fingertips.
It wasn’t enough. She wanted more.
Breaking away from his mouth, she left a trail of kisses…from the corner of his lip…along his jaw…down the side of his neck where his pulse pounded.
He groaned and then sucked a hard breath between his teeth. He drew her closer, until she could feel the rigid length beneath his tabard.
She should have been appalled. Such a blatant display was improper, crude, disgusting. Yet disgust wasn’t at all what she felt as he pressed against her.
Instead, a heady thrill coursed through her, as if the Bordeaux filled her veins, warming her blood and making her drunk.
She’ddone that.She’dmade him harden like that.
But wrapped up in her exhilarating triumph was also her surrender. Her bones were melting. Her heart was softening. Her resolve was weakening.
She didn’t mean to retreat toward the bed. Somehow it just happened. Suddenly the back of her knees made contact with the wooden frame.
No?l, in his eagerness, continued to advance, covering her face with kisses, not realizing she had nowhere to go.
They toppled together onto the feather pallet.
In the small sliver of her mind that wasn’t drunk on wine and desire, Ysenda knew she should resist him.
But a bigger part of her mind knew there was no hope of return. They’d leaped into the raging sea and were being carried away. And every sense she possessed told her to seize the moment.
So she did.
* * *
When he was a lad, one of No?l’s brothers had tricked him into sitting astride an unbroken horse. The steed had bolted off across the countryside, taking him on a wild ride. And all he could do was hang on for his life.
Which was how he felt now.
He’d resigned himself to spending a tame and quiet evening with his new bride, convincing her with reasonable examples that he’d make a decent husband.
But when she began kissing him, his good intentions went right out of his head.
It wasn’t as if he’d never been kissed. He was a de Ware, for heaven’s sake. But he’d never been kissed with such passion, such enthusiasm, such genuine enjoyment.
It was his clumsiness that made them fall onto the bed. And once he was horizontal, it was hard to resist doing what came naturally any time he was horizontal with a woman in a bed.
Still, he tried to resist her.
But when the lovely lass began putting her hands on him—clutching at his tabard, tearing at his surcoat—she was difficult to ignore. When she rained feverish kisses all over his face, he was compelled to answer them. And when she rolled him onto his back, all his self-control vanished.
Afraid of the marriage bed?
