Highland Temptation (10 page)

“I can't—” she gasped. “Can't—”

Aye, she could and she would. He added a second finger, knowing she could take it in spite of how tight she was. She moaned loudly, and he pumped into her several more times, rounding his mouth over her nub in a way he knew she liked.

Her legs went rigid around his shoulders, her body clamped so tightly over his fingers that he had to exert force to push them deep into her, and then her back bowed off the bed.

She came in glorious waves, her channel fluttering wildly over his fingers. Her body rolled with the orgasm, and his own spasmed and rolled as well. It went on and on, her hands going open and falling away, clutching at the bedcovers. She came silently, without a sound, and he wished he could see her face. Next time.

As the spasms slowed, so did Colin until he pulled his fingers out and gave one last gentle kiss to her glistening folds. She shivered in response, and he crawled up her limp body. Only then did he realize he had come, too, his cockstand shrinking and his belly wet with his release.

He crawled beside her, kissed her softly on her open lips. “Jesus,” he whispered in awe, looking down at her, every other word in the English language eluding him.

She was tussled and beautiful, her eyes at half-mast, her cheeks glistening with sweat. Unable to support his weight a second longer, he sank down beside her, drawing her utterly compliant body into his arms as a strange, tingly sensation overwhelmed him to his core.

Was this what love felt like?

They traveled in silence for most of the morning, the horses taking them closer to the Scottish border with every hour that passed. Emilia would be excited about that, had she been able to think clearly. But she hadn't. She was dazed, and her whole body still vibrated from what Colin had done to her this morning.

Reading about something was
far
different from actually doing it. She shivered, remembering the feel of Colin's tongue on her, and looked at him from under her lashes. He was gazing at the road, his profile strong and masculine, and so very handsome. She licked her dry lips and tore her eyes away, taking an unsteady breath.

After nearly an hour of silence, Colin murmured, “Are you all right, lass?”

She turned to him. The expression on his face clawed at her heart. Concern puckered his brow, and something akin to fear darkened his eyes.

Laying her hand over his thigh, she nodded. “I am all right.” She gazed at her lap, chewing on her lower lip. “I…am more than all right,” she said.

“Are you certain?”

“I am. I feel…” She struggled to put all her complex feelings into words; she wanted to be honest with him, and also allay his fears. “I didn't know it would be like that,” she admitted.

He blinked at her. “Neither did I.”

Confusion drew her brows together. “What do you mean?”

He looked back at the road. “It isna always like that,” he said softly.

“It's not?”

“Nay.”

“Then…it was special for you, too?” she asked awkwardly.

He reined the horses to a halt, and turned fully to her, his expression fierce. “It was…” He shook his head. “Like nothing I've ever experienced. Special…Aye, it was special. It was…” He gathered her hands in his and pressed his lips to them, then his gaze rose to meet hers, golden in the afternoon light. “You are…I feel…I
care
about you, Emilia.” His voice was reduced to a husky whisper.

“I care about you, too, Colin,” she whispered back.

He still clutched her hands in his own. “I think I…” His thumbs rubbed over her knuckles. “I think…I care about you more than I have ever cared about any woman. And kissing you, touching you, having you come so hard for me…I've never experienced anything so fulfilling in my life.”

She stared at him, her heart expanding and filling with something warm and heavy.

“I have never felt anything so fulfilling, either,” she murmured. “It…surprised me. I thought what would happen would be merely physical, but…”

He nodded knowingly. “Aye, for me as well. It was more.”

“Yes. So much more.”

They gazed at each other, then both looked up at a sudden sound on the road, a carriage bearing down on them that they should have heard much earlier.

He took up the reins again, pulling them closer to the side of the road so the other carriage could pass. It was a stagecoach, she saw, moving at high speed, and nearly overflowing with passengers, who gave them curious looks from the top seat and from the carriage windows as they passed.

Colin pulled back onto the road, and they rode on, ever closer to Scotland. She leaned comfortably against him, any earlier discomfort extinguished, and they talked, their conversation so lively that time passed quickly. Soon they had gone through the busy town of Berwick and were crossing the bridge over the River Tweed.

North of Berwick, the carriage traffic thinned, and the sun glistened on the countryside. The trees were tall and lovely in the first bloom of spring, the ground thick with grass. “Let's stop to eat,” Colin suggested as they crested a rise and the ocean came into view a few hundred feet away. Emilia nodded, liking the idea of stretching her legs.

He pulled off the road and over to a clearing near the water's edge, taking the horses beyond a small hill, well hidden from any other travelers who might pass on the main road.

After she climbed down from the carriage, Emilia stretched, raising her arms high above her head and twisting her torso this way and that. When she lowered her arms, she saw Colin eyeing her appreciatively, and she smiled at him. “Where would you like to eat?”

He retrieved a plaid and the bundle of food they'd asked the innkeeper's wife to pack for them, and pointed toward the sea. “There.”

They walked through a bit of tall grass to the shore, where boulders bracketed a long strip of sand. Colin laid out the plaid, and Emilia sat, her gaze taking in their surroundings. The ocean was placid and so clear she could see the sand and pebbles glistening beneath the surface. Tiny waves
whoosh
ed gently at the edge of the sand. “It's so lovely here,” she murmured, taking off her bonnet in a sudden desire to feel the warmth of the sun on her head.

Sitting beside her, Colin unwrapped the food, and she leaned against him as he hand-fed her bits of roasted fowl and bread.

Had she ever felt so content? She didn't think so.

They took their time eating, and when Emilia was full, she opened the bottle of wine that the innkeeper's wife had generously provided, and they traded sips straight from the bottle.

Finally, Colin set the bottle down beside him, then touched her cheek, a gentle graze. When she turned to him, he kissed her.

She sighed with pleasure, wrapping her arms around him. They kissed for long minutes. Colin tasted of wine, and that ever-so-masculine taste she was beginning to identify as belonging solely to him.

Finally, he laid her on her back on the plaid, and when he loomed over her, she reached up, drawing him to her lips. He indulged her in another long kiss, then rose, his fingers going to the ties of her dress, a question in his eyes. She nodded.

Yes, yes, and yes, she wanted to tell him, even more eager than she'd been this morning, knowing how powerful his touch could be.

Deftly, he undid the ties of her round gown and the front tie of her chemise, then slowly drew off the sleeves, one by one, before peeling the gown and the chemise down her chest.

Her nipples tightened instantly in the spring air, and she resisted the instinctual urge to cover herself. Colin stared down at her, appreciation darkening his eyes to golden brown, and she realized this was the first time he'd seen the front of her body. He cupped one of her breasts in his palm and brought his lips to it.

If she'd thought the feeling of him kissing her breasts over her nightgown had been exquisite, this was…“Ooh,” she murmured.

“You have the most bonny breasts,” he murmured, then tickled her nipple with his tongue. “So sweet and soft.”

He kissed both her breasts, starting with gentle licks and nuzzles and then suckling her until sensation rocketed to her core, and need bloomed inside her.

She desperately wanted this man to take her virginity.

She moved her hands over him. He'd removed his coat earlier, and hadn't worn a waistcoat or cravat today, so now he just had on his shirt, tucked into his kilt. She grabbed the shirt at his lower back and pulled it free of his waistband then pushed her hands underneath the fabric and stroked his warm, strong back, hesitating when she felt the raised slick lines of scars over his upper back. Different from her more jagged ones, but he'd definitely been whipped. Perhaps that was part of the strong connection she felt to this man. They were kindred spirits in more ways than she could count.

She reached around to his front, pulling the shirt all the way out then fumbling with his belt buckle. He rose up to look at her. “What are you doing, lass?”

“I want you.”

He stared at her for a long moment, his chest heaving. Then he rose to his knees and unbuckled his belt. Staring at her, he unwrapped his kilt and laid it aside, but his shirt fell over him, hiding most of his body from her view.

She wanted to see him. All of him. But he didn't remove his shirt. Instead, he took her hand and put it between his legs, above his shirt, lifting his heavy manhood in her palm and pressing it against his belly. She curled her fingers around its thickness, and her heart began a strange pitter-patter against her ribs.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, but his voice was more of a growl. Keeping his hand over hers, he moved up and down so she felt his long length from top to bottom.

She squirmed as a cool breeze blew over her nipples, still damp from his kisses. “Yes,” she whispered. “That's exactly what I want.”

His lips tightened, his eyes narrow and dark as he stared at her, rhythmically moving their hands up and down his shaft.

He ground his teeth and closed his eyes when she tightened her fingers over him, and his shoulders shuddered as he drew in a deep breath.

“Emilia,” he rasped, eyes still shut tight. “I'm not sure I can…It's been so long, and you…you…” He opened his eyes and they were bright as he stared at her. “I dinna ken if I can control it. Once I'm inside you…” His throat moved as he swallowed. She felt him under her palm, hard and thick and long. It would hurt, she knew, but only at the beginning. Then he would be buried deep inside her body, and it would feel…She didn't know, exactly, but it would be better than his fingers, she was certain. And his fingers had given her far more pleasure than she'd ever dreamed possible.

“That's what I want,” she said, and her own voice was raspy and deep with lust. “I want you to lose yourself inside me, Colin.”

He made a low, very Scottish-sounding noise that was halfway between a hum and a growl, and then he was on top of her, kissing her deeply, his tongue tangling with hers, his body pressing down on her deliciously. He pushed her skirts up to her hips, nudged her legs apart, and his hand went to her center.

“Mmm,” he said against her lips, “already wet for me,
mo leannan.
” His fingers slipped through her wetness, light and teasing, and her body pressed toward him, wanting more.
Deeper.

And then he shifted and removed his hand from between her legs. Something else pressed against her folds. The head of his shaft, warm and thick and prodding. She arched, trying to get closer to him as, gripping himself, he rubbed her with the blunt crown. He was hot and smooth, and the pressure of him against her made her mad for wanting him.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please, Colin.”

He pushed into her, his thick tip breaching her, and she gasped. He froze, pulling back from their kiss, his body shaking hard, the muscles in his jaw working. Gripping his shoulders tightly, she gazed up at him. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

“Do it,” she whispered, “please.”

“I…I dinna want to…hurt you.” He couldn't seem to form words. He clenched his teeth.

“Please, Colin.”

With a low groan, he squeezed his eyes shut, and surged deep into her.

The pain was sharp and intense. She jerked and cried out before she could stop it.

“Sorry,” he muttered, still shaking. “I'm sorry,
mo leannan.
”

She panted through the pain. “No,” she commanded. “No sorrys.”

“Emilia.” He said her name on a low groan. Wedged deep inside her, he didn't move, but she could tell that every bit of his being wanted to.

She breathed deep. “It's all right,” she managed, gentling the death grip she had on his shoulders. “I'm all right.” Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him down to her, kissing him on the lips, for the first time tentatively reaching for him with her tongue. He met it with his, his kiss achingly desperate. She moved her hands over his back, bunching his shirt up until she was at the tight roundness of his buttocks. She flattened her palms over the hard cheeks and pushed him tight against her. He quivered in response, and she kissed him harder, wiggling beneath him, willing him to follow his instincts and move.

He did, pulling back until he was nearly out of her, an exquisite glide of pleasure and pain that made her moan before he pushed into her again. He began a steady rhythm of strong thrusts, and her body began to adjust to the length and girth of him inside her.

The sharp pain had already receded, leaving a duller ache that the pleasure had already begun to eclipse. Soon she was tilting her hips, meeting him thrust for thrust as his buttocks flexed beneath her hands.

She could feel him everywhere. In her body and out of it. On her skin and in her blood. He pulled back from the kiss, and they gazed at each other as they moved in a rhythm as old as time, glorying in the closeness of it, in the intimacy, as the cool air brushed against their heated skin.

Pleasure washed over her and through her. A tingle began in her core that Colin intensified with every stroke of his body into hers. It was a heavenly sensation, different from the feel of his fingers and mouth on her, but equally pleasurable. Soon, the tingles coalescing in her core seemed to burst and radiate outward through her limbs, and she cried out as they overtook her, her whole body shaking, saturated by bliss.

Colin's thrusts became more forceful, powerful, and he seemed to grow impossibly larger within her as aftershocks of the orgasm sparked through her, making her gasp with every one. His eyes had closed, and his face was tense and tight, and when she moved her hands upward, stroking over his shoulders and arms, she found that his muscles were like rocks under her touch.

He began to speak in a litany of Gaelic, and she couldn't tell if they were curses or endearments or some wicked combination of both, but she answered him anyhow, murmuring encouragement, telling him she loved how he felt inside her, that it was more than she ever thought it could be—because it was.

He surged into her, deep and hard, and suddenly jerked out of her body entirely. He pressed himself onto her pelvis, a hot, hard, pulsing rod, as he spent on her skin, his body tight and his hips jerking uncontrollably.

When it was over, he dropped his head beside hers, and she kissed his jaw softly. He rolled to his side, his chest sawing with heavy breaths.