Page 97 of Bride of Ice
Withthat.
And suddenly it seemed so…impossible.
But before she could dwell too long on the physical logistics of mating, he seemed to sense her hesitation and released her.
“I’ll go no further, lass,” he said on a sigh, withdrawing and using his hands to shield his erection from her view. “I don’t wish to frighten ye.”
He meant to do the gentlemanly thing. He meant to protect her from his raging appetite. To guard her from harm at his hands.
His mistake was using the word, “frighten.”
Hallidis of Rivenloch wasn’t afraid of anything. Least of all the sort of blunted dagger that every milkmaid’s mother in Scotland had been impaled with at one time or another.
It was only doubt and misgiving that made her hesitate.
In battle, such doubt came from not knowing one’s foe, being unable to predict behavior or anticipate attacks.
The answer then was not to withdraw, but to lean in. To learn everything she could about Colban an Curaidh.
Though Colban had retreated, his chest still heaved with lusty breaths, and there was a shimmering spark in his eyes where desire smoldered. It would take but a small nudge, a whisper of encouragement to make that spark flicker back to life.
“I’m not afraid,” she told him.
With confidence born of willpower, she reached into the water and moved his hands aside. Then she slipped her hand carefully around him, grasping him as she would a sword.
He sucked a hard breath between his teeth. For one shameful instant, she feared she’d hurt him. But a quick glance at the pleasure in his eyes disabused her of that notion.
It was not unpleasant, holding him like this. His velvety smoothness would not injure her, she was sure.
He’d closed his eyes. She took the opportunity to lean forward and steal a kiss.
He responded at once, cradling her head in his hands and delving deeply into her mouth, letting their tongues mate in liquid ecstasy.
Beneath the water, her fingers skimmed along his length. He pulsed within her hand, which she slid all the way up to the hilt.
He groaned as if in torment, and Isabel’s warning haunted her.
“Is that too rough?” she murmured. “Have I hurt you?”
He answered with a sultry chuckle. “’Tisn’t pain, lass.”
His hand made a swift but sensual trek down her body, past her breasts, across her abdomen, and lower. He slipped his fingers into her nest of curls, stroking her there like a kitten.
Then he eased a finger between her nether lips, trespassing into the very place where all her desire centered.
At his touch, a surge of need blew through her soul like a hot wind. Her entire body felt suddenly aflame.
He was right. It wasn’t pain. It was like a sweet torment. A pleasurable, unquenchable longing for more.
She writhed against him, delighting in the pressure and friction of his fingertips grazing her flesh.
Below the water, he moved in a similar fashion against her palm, like a dagger seeking the sheath of her hand.
Soon their exploration took a serious turn. A turn from which there was little hope of return. Temptation would not be denied. Longing became need.
Caught up in a growing firestorm of sensations, billowing quickly out of control, Hallie gasped for breath.
Colban answered with a groan, resting his brow on her shoulder as if he battled some inner demon of his own making.
