Page 52 of Saved By the Cruel Highlander
“Please,” Holly begged.
The corner of Elias’s mouth twitched. “Ye’re darin’ me, and I hope ye’re ready for what comes next.”
His hand remained on the back of her head, and he lowered her onto the blanket below. Then, he removed his hand from beneath her head and placed it on the middle of her chest, just above her breasts, pinning her to the ground.
He lowered his lips to hers this time like the first snowflake falling to the ground in winter. Yet, there was no coldness. Warmth invaded her, starting with her lips and running down to her stomach. Holly expected him to be rough with her, but he was tender and gentle, and it only made the passion inside her flare further. She wanted release, and he teased her by not giving it.
He gave her a soft peck on her lips before he rose again, a towering figure hunched over her. He blocked out most of the sky above—not that she noticed. She only had eyes for his eyes, staring into them as they swallowed her up.
He moved down again, and she slightly lifted her head to welcome his lips. They came tantalizingly close, his warm breathtickling her lips, but he didn’t kiss her. He held himself there for a second before diverting and kissing her cheek, then the lobe of her ear, where he also hovered, his warm breath tickling her skin.
“Ye will be mine,” he whispered.
“Aye,” Holly uttered to the sky.
His lips moved to the column of her neck, and as he kissed the side, she turned her head to give him better access. He cupped her cheek in his hand, turning her head back to kiss her lips, then kissed the other side of her neck, sending a tremor through her body.
He leaned back to look at her, and then quickly claimed her lips again, this time forcing them open and probing with his tongue. He pressed his tongue to hers, but before she could tangle with his tongue, he removed it, and his lips moved elsewhere again.
Holly moaned in frustration. She wanted to taste him, to clamp her lips down on his tongue, to bite his lip. Her passion manifested as frustration—he had done something to her, locked her in place so she could not move.
No, he hadn’t locked her. He kissed her collarbone, his supple lips pressing against the hardness just below her skin, and her back arched off the blanket.
Her body could move, but only when he commanded it.
As if her body needed to respond to that notion, her arms moved up above her head, reaching out to the silken blades of grass beyond the edge of the blanket. She pressed her hands to the ground, feeling the chill in the earth.
But there was no chill in her body. It pulsed like embers of a fire, ready to be stoked.
He kissed her neck again, then his hands moved over her body. First to her cheek and neck, then down to her breasts—perfect mounds contained by the thin fabric of her blouse.
A sudden clarity overwhelmed Holly. “I want… this, but…”
The Laird came up for air, removing his lips from her bare skin. “We arenae wed yet. I can make ye feel things in other ways.” He paused, hovering above her, their gazes locked, before adding, “Only if ye want me to.”
Holly found herself nodding. She couldn’t speak fully, but she managed to breathe out, “Aye.”
Her heart skipped a beat at the response. She hadn’t wanted to come out and tell him that they could not lie together until they were wed, but he had been the one to say it. He might be a beast to others, but he was a gentleman to her. It only stoked her passion more.
If he respects me, then what does he feel about me?
Holly moaned and forgot all about her thoughts as the Laird brought his hand back to her breast. He unbuttoned her riding coat and brushed the lapels aside, moving his hand swiftly over her breasts once more like swallows flying close to the foothills in the Highlands.
She felt her two pink buds stiffen beneath her shirt, and she could not help but think about the member between the Laird’s legs. She had sat on his lap and been pressed against him when his manhood had poked back at her. It was slightly shocking but completely exhilarating. She wanted to see it, touch it, even if she didn’t know completely what she should do.
She didn’t have to think about anything as the Laird ran his hands over her body, kissed her neck and cheeks, nibbled on her ear, and breathed his warmth into her.
He placed his hand on her breast, kneading it slightly and thumbing at her nipple. She shifted on the blanket, unable to keep still. She could see the top of his head as he pleasured her with his lips, and above that, the clear blue sky. She looked up into it and felt like she was flying.
His hands then moved to her sides, her stomach, down over her thighs, impeded by her riding breeches. Then, some freedom as the buttons on her blouse were undone and his hand moved under the cotton to caress her bare skin.
She reached down and held the top of his head, running her fingers through his thick hair. She wondered about his scars.Were there more on his body, or were the wounds contained only to his face?
She didn’t care if he was covered in scars. She wanted to touch him as he touched her. Yet, she still couldn’t fully move and lie under him and his spell as he made good on his promise.
She knew more was coming, and when it did, she would think of only him. She already thought of only him. She wanted more of him—allof him. They hadn’t known each other long, but she understood it now. Perhaps their marriage was not based on love, but it could be based on carnal pleasure, and that would bring its own satisfaction.
Her cavern ached to have him inside, but she would wait for that—it was the only thing she was sure of. She wanted to feel him inside her, to experience what it was like, but she held firm to that one thing, or she oddly had nothing. He could take everything else from her, but not that.
