Page 69 of No One's Bride
You’ll be a viscount, not a damn wastrel.
Your brother hasn’t a sensible bone in his body.
You must be strong for both of you.
Weakness isn’t an option. Do you hear me, boy?
Sebastian fought against the memory of his father’s outrage. “If we do this, there is no going back. Perhaps it’s wrong to—”
“Nothing about this feels wrong.” Ailsa stroked his solid shaft, her innocent touch sending his need spiralling. “Our bodies are in perfect tune. We deserve to be selfish for once, to know what it is to be free.”
Wet tendrils of hair clung to her cheeks. Rain dripped from her lashes. Despite shivering against the cold, she smiled like she found nature liberating. The sight fed a lost desire for adventure. A hidden need to break free from convention and take risks. The thrill of dicing with danger.
Respect for one’s birthright had been rammed down his throat from infancy. He knew how to be an arrogant aristocrat. Knew how to follow rigid rules, embrace loneliness, marry for wealth, not love. In the process, he had forgotten how to be a man.
Ailsa sighed. “I should have suggested somewhere indoors.”
“No!” He reached for her, snaking his arm around her waist, fisting the drenched cotton and pulling the garment tight. “I need you now. I want to make love to you in the rain.” The urge was primal. More powerful than lust and longing. “I shall take pleasure in warming every cold extremity.”
Her mouth found his in an almost violent assault. Rainwater coated her sensuous lips, lips that coaxed his apart with ease, plump pillow-like lips that dragged him deeper into a dreamlike state.
Her tongue sought his, not to dance but to wrestle and wrangle. To feast, to fuck his mouth with a passion she couldn’t contain.
The hunger writhing in his veins was just as ferocious. A guttural growl rumbled in his throat. Their teeth clashed. With frantic hands, he gathered her chemise to her waist, grabbed her bare bottom and ground his erection against her abdomen.
“Holy Mother of God!” he uttered against her mouth. “We should slow down. Else this will be over before it’s begun.”
“I want to savour every second,” she confessed, raining kisses over his jaw, digging her fingers into his muscled back. “But I cannae control the impulse to hurry. ’Tis like I’m possessed.”
He understood perfectly.
He’d be in Bedlam if he didn’t consummate this union soon.
“Then we shall do both.” He drew her towards the cherry tree, a billowy canopy of pink and white blooms, unbuttoned his trousers and freed his engorged cock. “We’ll sate our lust now. Focus on your pleasure when in the comfort of my bedchamber.”
Her wide-eyed gaze fell to his jutting length. “I’m nae sure this will work. Perhaps we should just concentrate on kissing.”
“We were made to fit together, love.”
In more ways than one.
Somehow, he had always known it.
An idea burst into his mind. He scanned the garden to ensure no one could see them, then dropped to a sitting position, his bare back resting against the tree trunk.
“Stand over me and grip the trunk with both hands. Grip it hard.” Committed to enjoying this wild adventure, he’d make sure they climbed to the highest peak.
“What do ye mean to do?”
“You’ll see. Take off your chemise.” Noticing her gaze flitting about like a trapped bird in a cage, he added, “Trust me. No one can see you. No one but me. Your betrothed.”
A coy smile curled the corners of her mouth. “Nae man has ever seen me naked.” She gathered the hem of her sodden garment and, with some hesitance, drew it over her head.
“No one but me.”
“Aye.” She held the chemise tight to her body.
“Let me see you, love. Don’t be afraid.”
