Page 114 of The Highlander's Princess Bride
When he didn’t answer, a realization doused her ardor like a cold bucket of water. It was one thing to respond to your presumed fiancé’s kisses with pleasure and approval. It was another thing entirely to lose control and crawl all over him like a tart.
Like my mother would have.
“I’m sorry, my lord,” she gritted out, trying to struggle free. “I cannot imagine what you must think of me.”
While he was also behaving very badly, a respectable woman had no business throwing her principles to the wind. Not even if she was madly in love with the man trying to seduce her. She should have given him a peck on the cheek and sent him on his way.
The earl’s amazing blue gaze warmed with understanding, then he picked her up, turning in an effortless motion to press her against the door. When he crowded close, she didn’t know what was harder—the door at her back or his brawny physique at her front.
He gently cupped her chin. “You are the sweetest, kindest, bonniest lass that ever walked the earth. And nothing you do with me would be wrong or sinful, so get that out of your mind.” His smile was dark and seductive. “Your enthusiasm simply surprised me for a moment—in the best kind of way.”
Embarrassed, she squeezed her eyelids shut. “But we shouldn’t be doing this. We’re not even married.”
“And whose fault is that, may I ask?”
She sighed and opened her eyes. “Mine. But I can’t help feeling that . . .”
He nuzzled her cheek with a soft kiss. Even more than his strength, his tenderness completely undid her.
“Feeling what?” he whispered.
“That I’m not right for you.”
“I do believe I’m the one who’s best able to decide that question.”
She thought of the secrets she carried. “I’m not so sure of that.”
“I am, and I’m happy to show you exactly why.”
When he took her mouth again, she didn’t have the heart to push him away.
His lips wandered across her cheek, then nibbled along her jaw and down her neck. Victoria tilted her head sideways, helpless to do anything but give him what he wanted—what they both wanted. When he clamped his hands around her waist and lifted her up, holding her against the door as he rocked into her, she gasped and clung tight.
“God, lass,” he rasped. “You’ll make me spend before I even get inside you.”
She swallowed, both shocked and excited by his blunt words.
With easy strength, he held her against the door, flexing his hips and nudging his erection against her throbbing sex. Desire rolled over her, making her light-headed. Victoria clamped her hands around his head, kissing him with a fierce intensity. Her emotionalandphysical need for him was almost visceral, as if she would die if she couldn’t have him.
Vulnerable and frightened almost out of her wits, she hoped Nicholasneverstopped kissing her.
A moment later, he froze again.
She opened her eyes. He was frowning, his head tilted away from her.
“Now what?” After finally letting down her guard, she just might murder him if he stopped now.
“Hush, love,” he whispered.
Now she understood. Someone treaded at a stately pace down the hall. It was undoubtedly the butler, making his final rounds.
Nicholas held her securely but her position was less than comfortable, with her shoulder blades wedged against the hard-oak panels and her toes just skimming the floor.
And she was rather precariously perched on the broad head of his erection, which had somehow found its way out from under the folds of his kilt and was now rubbing into the thin silk of her gown. It was an awkward—if stimulating—position that made her feel more than slightly ridiculous. Propped against a door and all but riding on a gentleman’s manly appendage was certainly not where any proper woman should hope to find herself.
Why not?
Victoria firmly brushed aside the question.
