Page 156 of Laird of Steel
“I want to go slowly,” he said. “Undress you. Piece by piece. Worship every inch of you as you deserve.”
Merraid swallowed hard. His words moved her. But she didn’t know how long she could endure such torture.
Gellir wondered how long he could restrain himself. Part of him wanted to throw his lovely bride onto the bed and take her like a beast.
But that was how a man swived a lass who meant nothing to him.
And today, he wanted to make love to his wife.
He lowered onto one knee before her, catching the embroidered hem of her blue woolen surcoat. Then he rose with reverence, lifting the garment higher and higher. She raised her arms to accommodate him. Carefully avoiding the intricate braids of her hair—Isabel’s work, no doubt—he slipped the surcoat off over her head and set it aside at the foot of the bed.
Her white linen leine clung to her curves, and already he felt lust stirring in his body again.
Her eyes glazed with seductive anticipation.
He started at the top of her head, placing a kiss where her silky hair was swept back from her brow. “I love your bright, coppery tresses. They’re like a beam of sunlight shining through the clouds.”
He brushed her expressive brows with his thumbs and gazed into her eyes. “I love your brilliant blue eyes. The way they glimmer with joy. Glitter with rage. Glisten with tears. How they look into my soul and see my truth.”
She seemed to soften a little at his words.
He ran his fingertip down the straight bridge of her nose and grinned. “I’ve always loved your freckled nose, even when ’twas broken and bloody.”
Her chuckle was throaty.
He brushed his fingers across her supple pink lips and bent close to whisper against them. “I love your lips. The way they curve in a smile. And furl in a frown. The way they speak my name. The way they press gently against mine.” He felt the shiver of her breath as he gave her the lightest of kisses. “The way you let me inside.” He angled his head and tenderly urged her lips apart, venturing between them with his tongue. Tasting her sweet desire again and again.
She moaned faintly as he withdrew.
The beast of lust roared again within him. But he refused to feed it yet.
He grazed her smooth jaw with his knuckles, following with his lips. Then he nuzzled the delicate shell of her ear. She shivered as he nibbled at the delicious side of her neck.
“I love your throat,” he said. “So warm. So soft. The way your pulse throbs here when you’re excited.”
She was excited now. He could see her heart beat.
He could also see the deep rise and fall of her bosom as her breathing grew labored.
He let his fingers drift down to the gentle dip between the curve of her breasts. Then he pulled loose the tie holding the leine closed.
She arched up against him.
Sweet Saints, how he longed to nestle there in the warmth of her flesh.
Letting his thumbs slide beneath the neckline of her leine, he slipped the garment off of her shoulders.
“I love your arms,” he murmured, stroking the round caps of her shoulder and gliding the linen lower. “The way they can wield a sword. Or a besom,” he added with a smile, remembering their battle Feiyan’s solar. “The way you wrap them around my neck. The way you’ll cradle our children.”
Hooking his fingers in the leine, he pulled it away to release her breasts and let the garment sag to her waist.
She blushed and lowered her eyes.
He tugged the sleeves off her wrists and clasped her hands in his.
“I love your hands. So small, yet so capable. So soft, yet so strong.” He brought each one to his lips for a kiss. “Hands that toil and pray and seize and give. Hands that can make a fierce fist or a hold a butterfly on their palm.”
He swept his hands up then to caress her bosom, first with the back of his knuckles, then cupping the creamy globes.
