Page 72 of Keeping Kate
“To Edinburgh? To trial? No, Alec.” She gazed at him soberly.
“I see. So is that what you want?”
“What I want,” she whispered, feeling the truth of it suddenly, “is to be with you.”
“I want the same, aye,” he murmured, pressing his cheek against her hair as the warm, masculine scent of him filled her senses.
“But what should we do about—the custody and the orders—”
“Later for that.” He tilted her face to his, and as she shared the kiss with equal fervor, she felt thunderstruck. If these feelings were real, what would he decide to do? What would she do—what would become of her? Not only the charges against her, she thought, for the fairy legend brought demands as well.
But for now, she pushed aside the distraction of thought, circling her arms around his shoulders, pressing against him. As he whispered against her cheek, she shushed him, kissing him again, feeling his hands tracing over her as kisses deepened and a fierce yearning grew inside her.
Sighing, she slid her hands over his sculpted shoulders, along the length of his smooth, hard back, his chest, sensing the beat of his heart. Her lips craved his, and when he drew her close and rolled her to her back, she no longer questioned whether he was strong enough—this was his decision, and he was making it clear that he was ready. She felt ready too—for she suddenly wondered what life would be like without him, once he left and she stayed behind. Breathlessly, she began to unlace her bodice, loosening the hindrance, certain what she wanted. Fairy legends or none, obligations or none, she needed to love this man here and now, secretly and deliciously, a memory to keep forever. Soon he might leave and never return.
He lay back, raising a knee, drawing her over him, tugging at her skirts, the warmth of his hand sliding along her leg, withdrawing to slip upward, fingers puling at laces—no harder than she pulled at them herself, eager to be free, to feel his body firm and warm against hers. All the while, she sank into the circle of his uninjured arm, so careful of the weaker arm, and captured his lips with her own.
His hand found her breasts, caged their fullness, as she cried out softly, shuddering, breathing more and more deeply. The curtained bed, dark and warm, was a haven of protection, freeing her to do as she wanted and needed—and letting him do the same. She needed to trust him, here in this private space. The world need not know what they shared here. Nothing mattered now but him, his touch, his kiss, what was given and what returned. If she never saw him again, she would know, once, what it was to love.
Sliding her hands over his chest, she shoved her skirts, the bedcovers, all else away as he did, sighing as she felt his touch, low and heated, stirring exquisite fire within her. Moving over him, pressing closer, she felt him grown still beneath her, and felt the deep, needful pulse of him against her. As she moved again, he groaned low, the vibration of it running all through her. Stretching up to kiss his lips, lingering there, she felt her own need heavy within. And she lifted slightly, slid her body along his, then rose up and settled over him—willing away the sweet pain of it—
“Kate,” he said low in his throat.
“Hush,” she said. “Now, hush.” The motion was hers to make, the decision hers. He caught his breath, grasped the tuck of her waist with one hand, and moved with her as she slid down, fitting like hand to glove. Then she cried out, so softly, filled to the brim. “Hush,” she breathed out again. He would know, now, that he was the first.
But she could not say so, could not speak now, as the cadence he began shuddered through her, sparked the flame again. Hands finding, heart thumping, lips seeking, she rocked with him, moaned in whispers with him, let the strength and the wonder of it overwhelm her. Then she fell forward over him, her hair loosening, slipping down like a golden curtain. He took in a breath, another, pressed his head to her own.
Somehow, she felt different, new, as if she had found clarity of heart and soul. She would have told him, but could not find words, and tucked her head against his shoulder. He encircled her with his arm, and she nestled there, closing her eyes.
He kissed her brow. “I am sorry,” he murmured. “I did not know you never—“
“We need not speak of it,” she said. “It does not matter. You are the only one, and all that matters to me is you, and what we have between us, this—”
“This love?” He touched his lips to her hair.
“Aye so,” she whispered.
