Page 52 of The Icy Highlander's Virgin
Lachlan sucked in a sharp breath. “Sweet saints…”
He cupped her breast with reverence, his hand warm and wide, fingers splaying to cradle her fully. His thumb brushed lightly over her nipple, and she gasped, arching slightly into the touch.
“Ye’re so soft,” he murmured, lowering his head.
She barely had time to register the heat of his breath before his mouth closed over her nipple. His tongue circled, slow and deliberate, then flicked the tip. Her knees buckled, and he steadied her with an arm around her back, never breaking contact.
Erica moaned, her hands flying to his shoulders for balance. He sucked gently, then harder, drawing her deeper into the storm she was helpless against. When he moved to her other breast, he brought his hand up to tease the one he’d just abandoned, pinching and rolling the sensitive tip until she was panting.
Her head fell back, eyes fluttering shut as his tongue worked her in slow, devastating patterns.
“Lachlan…” she gasped.
“Aye?” he said against her skin, his voice like gravel and honey.
“I—I cannae think,” she said, half-laugh, half-moan.
“Good,” he growled. “Ye shouldnae think. Just feel.”
He lowered them both to the ground slowly, laying her gently in the grass, his body stretched out beside hers. His hands were everywhere—her sides, her thighs, her stomach—like he couldn’t touch enough of her at once.
His gaze darkened, and the growl that rolled from his chest made her knees buckle. Before she could fall, his arm was around her waist, steadying her, drawing her into him.
“Come here, then,” he murmured, guiding her with a firm hand until she was in the circle of his arms. She didn’t resist. She couldn’t.
Her hands flattened on his chest, feeling the heat of his skin, the hammering of his heart beneath her palms. He cupped her face and kissed her, slow and deep, stealing the breath from her lungs. When he pulled back, his lips grazed her cheek, then her jaw, then down the slender column of her neck.
Her nipples tightened under his stare, puckering into soft peaks.
“Ye’re beautiful, Erica. Do ye ken that?”
She started to speak, but he silenced her with a kiss to the hollow of her throat.
“Lachlan,” she moaned, her fingers diving into his hair.
He chuckled darkly, a sound of pure male satisfaction. Then he took her nipple into his mouth and sucked, slow and deep, as his hand molded the other breast, his thumb brushing teasing circles.
Erica cried out, her head falling back. She’d never felt anything like it—so consuming, so raw. The way his mouth worked her, his tongue flicking and rolling, sent fire through her veins. When he moved to the other breast, giving it the same attention, she swore her knees would give out.
He knelt between her thighs, his large hands stroking her sides, her belly, trailing lower until his fingers brushed over the waistband of her undergarments.
“May I?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
She gave the faintest nod.
He peeled the last barrier from her skin, slow and reverent, until she lay fully exposed beneath him. The hunger in his eyes turned molten.
“Ye’re tremblin’ again,” he said, his hand sliding up her inner thigh.
“I… I want ye to touch me,” she whispered. “Please, Lachlan.”
His gaze met hers, and something in his expression shifted—fierce and tender all at once.
He bent low and kissed the inside of her thigh, then the other. He slid her legs apart, settling between them, and pressed a lingering kiss just above her folds.
She gasped, her hips jerking.
“I’ll take me time,” he murmured, his warm breath ghosting over her center. “Ye deserve to be worshipped, Erica.”
