Page 40 of The Highlander's Runaway Nun
“Ye’ll be the death of me, lass,” he groaned, seizing her hand and pressing it over his racing heart. “Feel what ye do to me.”
Laura’s throat tightened as she felt the thunder of his pulse beneath her palm.
“It matches mine,” she whispered, her lips trembling, “as if our hearts are one.”
Her words seemed to undo him, for he picked her up and placed her on the rug before the hearth. He pressed on top of her, his body covering hers.
Laura clung to him, her breath coming in short, frantic bursts as his mouth moved over her throat, her shoulder, lower still. He kissed the delicate skin where her gown had slipped aside, leaving trails of fire wherever his lips lingered.
His hands fumbled at her gown, his breath harsh as he pulled at the fabric.
“Let me see ye, Laura,” he whispered, the words thick with yearning. Her face flushed hot, shame and desire warring within her, but she nodded faintly.
He went to work untying laces. Slipping the layers down, and eased the fabric down, revealing her body to his gaze. His breath caught in reverence.
“God above,” he murmured, his hand trembling as it traced her skin. “Ye’re bonnie as the dawn, lass.”
Laura’s cheeks burned, her eyes darting away, feeling ashamed to be fully naked in front of a man. His hand tilted her chin back to meet his gaze.
“Daenae hide from me. I’ll cherish every inch of ye.”
Her heart swelled at his words, the fear inside her easing as he lowered his mouth to her skin again.
His lips brushed her breast, gently at first, then more insistently as she gasped and clung to his hair.
A low moan slipped from her lips, shocking her, but Bradley groaned in answer, as though her sound only fueled his hunger.
“Aye, lass, give me yer voice.”
Laura writhed beneath him, her body aching with need, her mind reeling with the intensity of it. His hand slid lower, trailing heat over her stomach, then still lower, until she gasped aloud.
He kissed her fiercely, swallowing her cry as his fingers moved down to the soft mound between her thighs. He teased her with aching slowness.
She clung to him, her body shuddering, undone by the sensations he coaxed from her.
“Ye’re mine, Laura,” he growled against her lips, his hand still working its torment.
“Say it, lass.”
She moaned his name, her head tossing back. “I’m yers, Bradley… aye, I’m yers.” His lips curved against hers, a sound of triumph mingling with desire.
He shifted then, pulling off his kilt. His body was fully nude and pressed against hers. With his weight settling more fully upon her, his intent was clear in the way he pressed against her.
Laura’s breath caught, nerves flaring with fear even as her body cried out for him. “Bradley…” she whispered, her hands gripping his shoulders. He stilled, his eyes burning into hers.
“I’ll nae harm ye,” he vowed, his voice rough with restraint. “But I cannae stop, lass… nae when ye’ve given me permission like this.”
Tears pricked her eyes as she cupped his cheek, her heart aching with a strange, fierce tenderness. “Then take me… I want ye, truly.”
His control broke with her words, and he kissed her savagely, his body surging forward.
Laura gasped as he entered her, a sharp cry leaving her lips at the suddenness of it. The loss of her virginity.
Bradley groaned, his forehead pressed to hers, his body taut as he stilled to let her adjust.
“Forgive me, lass,” he whispered, his voice frayed, “ye’re tight as a vise.”
She trembled, her breath uneven, the sting slowly giving way to a flood of heat.
