Page 14 of The Handfasting
“Come on, lass. I can’t wait forever,” he teased.
On the other hand, this might be the last kiss she ever got…at least until she married whatever coarse and smelly sheepherder her father lined up for her.
It was that depressing thought that convinced her to take the chance while she had it.
“I suppose I can give ye one kiss goodnight,” she decided.
“O’ course.”
“But only one.”
His eyes twinkled with laughter. “Whate’er ye can spare.”
Resting her hands on his crossed forearms, she rose onto her toes. She lifted her chin and closed her eyes. He lowered his head to meet her halfway. When she felt his faint breath upon her face, she moved toward him until their lips touched.
If this was to be her last kiss, she wanted to remember it. So she focused on the supple warmth of his lips and the coarse brush of stubble on his chin. She inhaled his masculine fragrance—all leather and iron and spice. Daring to let her tongue venture out, she savored the tempting taste of his mouth. She sighed against him with bittersweet longing.
And then he began to respond.
His mouth moved over hers, gently at first, and then with more urgency, as if he sought to drink the last bit of her before she was gone.
She too was filled with a strange desperation—a craving for more of him, for all of him. A soft moan of longing built in her throat. Frustration creased her brow.
His arms came unfolded. He pulled her into his embrace.
It was utterly thrilling.
It was also dangerous.
“Ye’re…kissin’ me…back,” she cautioned between kisses.
“Am I?”
“Aye.”
“Should I stop?”
She paused. “Nae.”
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.
