Page 87 of The Icy Highlander's Virgin
"I've wanted this every day since I last touched ye," Lachlan murmured, his lips grazing her temple, voice thick with hunger and restraint. "But only if ye want it too."
"I do," she breathed, the words soft but sure, like the breaking of a dam.
His eyes darkened. "Then I’m nae holdin' back."
He kissed her, slow at first—deep, searching, full of heat that built like a fuse catching flame. His hands framed her face, thumbs stroking her cheeks with surprising tenderness as he devoured her mouth. She answered him eagerly, tugging at his shirt, nails scraping over hard muscle.
He lifted her effortlessly and laid her back on the bed, her body sinking into the cool sheets. He stripped his shirt off with one hand, his eyes never leaving her face. Then he leaned in, his mouth catching hers again, his weight pressing her down in the most delicious way.
“You’ve nay idea how much I’ve been thinkin' of this,” he said against her lips, voice low and rough. “How many nights I’ve dreamt of tastin' ye again. Of feelin' ye in me mouth.”
He kissed his way down her neck, teeth and tongue leaving her skin flushed and marked. When he reached the swell of her breasts, he paused—eyes locking with hers as if asking for permission one last time. She nodded, trembling, breath shallow.
His mouth closed around one nipple, tongue flicking, sucking, teasing until she moaned and arched beneath him. He worshiped her with his mouth, switching sides, lavishing attention with almost painful precision.
Her thighs parted instinctively, desperate for friction, but he took his time. One hand held her hip steady while the other trailed down her stomach, fingers light as air, making her squirm.
He kissed his way lower, tongue tasting the soft skin of her belly, her inner thighs, until she was writhing, begging without words. When his mouth finally settled between her legs, she gasped—then cried out, her hands flying to his hair.
He groaned into her, tongue working her with practiced, relentless strokes. He alternated between slow circles and fast flicks, reading every sigh, every moan, adjusting until she was panting his name like a chant. Her thighs clenched around him, body jerking as wave after wave built inside her.
“Lachlan—oh, Lachlan, daenae stop—please?—”
Her cries only pushed him harder. His grip on her hips tightened, holding her steady as he drove her higher, mouth wet and hot and merciless. Her fingers tangled in his hair, hips lifting to meet his tongue, desperate and shameless.
Then everything inside her snapped. She shattered on his mouth with a sharp cry, her entire body seizing, trembling uncontrollably. He didn’t stop—he licked and sucked her through every tremor, dragging it out until she was limp and wrecked, gasping his name through tears.
When he finally rose, his mouth was slick with her, his eyes burning with pride and want. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, then leaned in close, forehead to hers.
“Ye taste like heaven, lass,” he whispered. “And I could spend the rest of me life makin' ye come apart like that. I could do it every night and still want ye more.”
Erica could barely speak, her body still thrumming, heart pounding like a war drum. She pulled him down into a kiss that tasted of sweat and salt and something holy. Her hand slippeddown, finding the hard line of him straining against his trousers, and he groaned into her mouth.
But he pulled back slightly, eyes filled with fire and something else—restraint.
“Nae yet,” he said, voice raw. “Tonight’s aboutye. I want to ken every sound ye make, every way yer body sings under my hands. I want ye tremblin' until ye can't say anythin' but me name.”
Still breathless, Erica tried to steady herself, but Lachlan wasn’t done. Not even close.
He moved lower again, hands spreading her thighs as he kissed the soft skin just below her hip. His breath was hot, and when his tongue returned to the slick center of her, she let out a sharp gasp.
“Again?” she whispered, eyes wide, body still shaking.
“Aye,” he murmured against her. “And again. Until yer body forgets how to stand.”
His voice was husky, thick with want, but every touch was still measured, still meant for her. He took his time this second round, more teasing, less urgency, like a man who knew he had her exactly where he wanted her—and wanted to savor it.
He slid two fingers inside her, slow and deep, curling just right. She cried out, clutching the sheets as his mouth and handworked in sync. He sucked gently on her clit while his fingers moved with practiced rhythm, stroking that sensitive spot until her eyes rolled back.
Her legs shook. She tried to pull away from the overwhelming pleasure, but he held her still.
“I cannae—Lachlan—” Her voice cracked as her body bucked.
“You can,” he growled. “Ye’re going to. Just for me.”
Her second climax hit harder than the first, stealing her breath, making her sob his name as she came undone. Her body went rigid, then limp, sinking back into the mattress as if gravity had tripled.
He didn’t move right away. He kissed her inner thighs, her stomach, the valley between her breasts—slow, reverent. His hands skimmed up and down her sides, grounding her, soothing her.
