Page 39 of The Highlander's Runaway Nun
Her pulse betrayed her, though, hammering in her throat and ears, betraying the thoughts she dared not speak aloud. The game had become more than cards; it was a dance of desire, teasing, and unspoken longing between them.
She watched him deal with careful precision, each movement mesmerizing, and she felt the magnetic pull of his presence. The fire in her chest grew warmer, a soft ache of wanting she could not name aloud. Yet she forced herself to concentrate, even as her eyes kept drifting back to the powerful lines of his body. Bradley’s dark gaze met hers for a fleeting moment, and she nearly melted under the intensity of it, cheeks aflame.
The next round began with Laura’s heart thudding against her ribs, her focus scattered by the heat in Bradley’s gaze. The flicker of the hearth light cast shadows over his bare chest as he dealt the cards, his lips curved in a knowing smirk.
Laura tried to steady her breathing, but luck betrayed her this time; her hand was weaker, and Bradley’s grin widened in triumph.
“It seems the loss is yers, wife,” he murmured, his voice low and edged with something darker than playfulness.
Laura met his gaze, feeling her pulse quicken, and slowly pushed back her chair.
“Aye, so it is,” she said softly. Rising, she reached down to her skirts, her fingers brushing against the hem of her stocking. With deliberate slowness, she rolled the fabric down her thigh, feeling Bradley’s eyes follow every movement until the silk slipped free from her leg.
Bradley drew in a sharp breath, the sound barely audible, but it made her heart leap.
His gaze darkened with desire, the space between them charged like a storm about to break.
“Ye play dangerous games, lass,” he said, his voice rough, each word vibrating with restrained hunger.
Laura’s lips curved faintly. “Perhaps I like the danger, husband,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly with the brave choice of words.
He moved then, swift and certain, closing the distance between them. His hands came to her waist as he pulled her close, his breath mingling with hers.
“Ye drive me mad, Laura,” he muttered before his lips crashed against hers in a kiss fierce and consuming. She melted into him, her fingers threading through his hair as the cards scattered, forgotten across the floor, their game abandoned to the fire burning between them.
Bradley’s hands moved with a desperate surety, sliding lower as though nothing on earth could stop him.
Laura gasped against his mouth, her fingers clutching him, her body burning with a fever she could no longer fight.
His touch grazed her hip, searing her through the barrier of fabric. She trembled, her breath ragged, and whispered his name like a plea.
“Bradley…”
He tore his mouth from hers long enough to look at her, his chest rising and falling like a man at the edge of madness.
“Tell me, lass,” he rasped, his voice hoarse, “tell me ye want this, else I’ll stop here.”
Laura’s lips parted, her eyes wide and shimmering with fear and hunger both.
“I want ye, Bradley… I’ve wanted ye since ye first kissed me.”
A guttural groan broke from his throat, his restraint snapping as he gathered her closer.
His hand slid beneath the folds of her gown, rough, calloused fingers meeting smooth, heated skin.
Laura gasped, her body arching into him, her senses reeling with the shocking intimacy of his touch.
“Sweet saints,” he muttered, his lips devouring her throat, “ye’re soft as silk.”
Her body quivered as his hand traced higher, each stroke setting her aflame. She felt shame whisper at the edges of her thoughts, but desire roared louder, sweeping her away. Her vow to the Abbey seemed distant, shadowed, when compared to the vow she had made to this man before God.
“Ye’re me husband,” she whispered, as if reminding herself as much as him.
“Aye, and ye’re mine,” he answered fiercely, his hand cupping her breast again, his thumb circling until she gasped.
The sound tore through him, and he kissed her with brutal tenderness, his hunger barely leashed. Laura moaned softly, her fingers slipping onto his chest, needing to feel more of him. The solid muscle beneath her hands made her dizzy with want.
His chest was broad and hard, his skin bronzed from the sun, every line of him cut with strength. Laura’s trembling hand traced over him, her fingertips gliding over the ridges of his chest. He shivered under her touch, his jaw tightening as though her caress tested the last of his control.
