Page 50 of The Highlander Steals a Virgin
Amara’s lips parted.
“Ye looked carefree. Laughin’ and alive. Beautiful.”
Silence.
Then.
“Ye cannae do this,” she whispered.
“Do what?”
“This,” she repeated, voice trembling. “Ye cannae keep pickin’ me up when it suits ye, and then droppin’ me the moment it doesnae. I’m nae one of Daisy’s toys for ye to entertain yerself with between meals.”
Rhys’s mouth opened, but she cut him off.
“I have a heart, Rhys. A bleeding one. And a head that’s tryin’ to forget what yer kiss felt like or what it might havemeant, God forbid.”
His chest tightened. “It meant —”
“Ifeltit,” her eyes were went now. “And I hate that I did. Because ye daenae get to kiss me like that and then just pretend that I’m aguest.”
Rhys stood, fists clenched at his sides.
“I never wanted to hurt ye,” he said through gritted teeth. “I wasnae ready for the kiss when it happened. I dinnae ken what to do, lass.”
“Then just leave me be!”
Her voice cracked on the words.
Rhys crossed the space between them in a breath.
His hand reached out, hesitated, then found her jaw.
She didn’t flinch away from him.
He tilted her face up, searching her eyes. “Ye think I daenae feel what ye feel?”
“Thenwhy?” she whispered.
He didn’t answer. He still couldn’t.
Instead, he kissed her.
It wasn’t gentle.
It was hours of silence, of thinking about her, and missed chances. It was anger and hunger and need.
Her hands found his chest, fisting the linen there, but she didn’t push him away.
She kissed him back. Hungrily.
His arms wrapped around her waist, dragging her closer, and she gasped into his mouth. He kissed her again, and again, and again.
His lips found her neck. Her shoulder. The curve just below her ear that made her gasp.
“Rhys,” she breathed, voice trembling.
His fingers slid to her back, tracing the laces of her gown. It was indeed the same one she had been wearing the day before and the pain that caused him for knowing that he was the reason made him pull away slightly. “Tell me to stop.”
