Page 56 of It Happened in the Highlands
He was so loving, so perceptive. Years ago this was the way it had been between them. Their minds and hearts were so open, so much in harmony. She could tell him anything. Pour out her heart. Share with him her struggle to belong and feel connected to a society that kept her at arm’s length. He always understood. He always made her feel complete.
A weight had been lifted from her chest. She could breathe again.
“I am sorry I’ve behaved so badly.”
“You haven’t.” He raised her chin, and his gaze caught and held hers before placing a kiss on her brow. “But you’re allowed if you choose to.”
“I must look a fright.”
“You look beautiful,” he whispered, his lips kissing the wetness from her cheeks as his fingers combed the loose tendrils of her hair.
Jo studied the line of his jaw, the sensual shape of his lips, the deep blue of his eyes as they caressed her face before focusing on her lips. A reckless hunger pounded through her. She wanted him. She needed his kisses. Where sadness had ruled before, hunger now reigned.
She stood up and moved between his knees, looking down at his surprised expression.
“Kiss me.”
He smiled, closing his eyes for a moment and shaking his head. “Jo . . . this room. The two of us alone. This might not be the best . . .”
She recognized the change in his voice. He wanted her too.
“Very well. Then I’ll have to kiss you.” She pressed her lips to his.
Wynne’s mouth immediately took hers, and sparks exploded within her. The kiss was scorching. So different from those they’d exchanged in the garden. Coaxing, shaping, exploring. He was now a man with all the time and all the patience in the world.
She was aroused and welcomed the light touch on her spine as he reached for her. She pressed closer and his mouth became possessive. Lost in the kiss, Jo moved her hands over his shirt, feeling his chest and broad shoulders, and then slipped her arms around his neck.
The moment she molded herself to him, his mouth opened further, his tongue becoming more demanding. His hand slid along her waist and ribs, caressing her breast through the bodice of her gown. Their tongues played a seductive dance until they were both shaking with need.
Then, he abruptly ended the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. They were both breathing heavily.
Jo wanted more. “I don’t want you to stop.”
He pulled her arms down from around his neck.
“Jo,” he whispered raggedly. “You don’t know what you’re doing. We should wait.”
She’d waited long enough. No more, she thought. She was thirty-seven years old. Wynne was the only man she’d loved for her entire life. And for sixteen years, he had been the only man in all those dreams from which she’d awakened aroused.
Why should she wait?
“No,” she said, pushing him back onto the bed. “No waiting. I want you now.”
Chapter 18
He’d died and gone to heaven.
After he’d proposed to her today, Wynne’s plan had been to do everything right. He was committed to following all the well-established rules of courtship, engagement, and marriage. He’d robbed her of the joys and celebrations of each stage when he broke off their engagement. He would make it up to her this time. But his plans and good intentions went out the door—and took the bloody door, hinges and all, with them—when she pushed her shoes off, climbed onto the bed, and straddled him.
Wynne was happy that Jo had plans of her own.
Jo’s hair was a tousled mass of dark curls, and she pulled out the remaining pins, shaking it loose until it cascaded around her shoulders. Her beautiful face was flushed, her eyes puffy, and her lips swollen from his kisses. Her dress . . . his eyes moved down the row of buttons in the front, and the urge to pull every piece of clothing off her body took on religious significance.
She shifted her weight on top of him, and he groaned involuntarily.
She ignored his suffering and began to pull his shirt from his pants.
“Do you know what you’re doing?”
