A Highlander's Heart: A Sexy Regency Romance (Highland Knights Book 1) by Jennifer Haymore Page B
Authors: Jennifer Haymore
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Waterloo. “So beautiful ye hurt my eyes. You’re an angel, Claire.”
She gazed up at him, blinking. “No one’s ever called me an angel before. I’ve done too many bad things.”
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her lips. “You’re an angel. My angel,” he murmured, thinking of how she’d appeared to him on the battlefield, of how he’d later woken to see her sleeping beside him. She’d brought a peace with her that he hadn’t seen in a year—that he’d needed more than he’d known.
“No,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said, moving his lips to her jaw and sucking gently. “Yes,” he murmured, moving up her jawline to her ear.
“Come to bed with me.” He laced her fingers with his, walked her to the bed, and clasped her waist and lifted her so she sat on its edge.
He glided his hands down the curve of her waist and along her outer thighs until he reached her ribbon garters, untying them both simultaneously, then rolling down her stockings, one leg at a time, and slipping off her shoes.
She sat very still, her breaths short, as she watched him work.
“So bonny,” he murmured, sliding his hands from her heels, up her legs and her waist and higher until he grasped her face in his palms, tilting it up. He leaned down and kissed her, tasting her sweetness, licking it up like ambrosia.
It took enormous strength of will to pull his lips from hers. “Lie down, lass.”
She did, and he crawled up onto the bed after her, removing the offending shirt as he went.
Now they were both bare. He gazed into her eyes, seeing the entreaty there. It had been so long. For both of them. There was an urgency that hadn’t been present since their wedding night, but he wasn’t about to steal his pleasure from her without ensuring she took her own. In any case, he knew from experience that it was always better for him when he knew she’d reached her peak before he did.
He lowered his lips to the pale skin over her collarbone, trailing his tongue along it, then dipping lower until he kissed the feminine slope of her breast.
He groaned. She was so sweet. So lovely. She tasted so damn good. And the way she moved her hands over his skin was alighting every nerve ending he possessed.
He made his way to her nipple and closed his lips around it. She arched into his mouth, gasping, as he played with the taut nub, rolling it around his tongue, suckling, tasting.
He cupped her breasts in his hands, pressing his cheeks against the impossibly soft flesh as he moved from one to the other.
She writhed and gasped as he continued to lick, suck, tease.
“I could do this all night,” he whispered against her skin.
“God, no,” she murmured.
“Why not?”
She didn’t answer.
“Have I teased you, love?”
“I… Yes,” she said, then made a soft keening sound as his lips closed over a nipple. He took his time with it, rubbing his lips over it, grazing his teeth over it. When he finally came up for air, she was panting.
“You terrible man,” she groaned.
It wasn’t meant to be an insult, or even an accusation. Rob knew this. But the words brought back that morning when he’d left her to join the regiment in Edinburgh, when she’d torn out his heart and flung it to the birds.
She could do that again. She was capable of doing it again. He hadn’t been able to steel his heart against her.
“Please, Rob,” she whimpered.
He closed his eyes, fighting off the surge of fear. Then he pressed his lips to the underslope of her breast, moving down over her ribs, passing over her stomach, then to the vee of hair at the apex of her legs. He nudged her knees apart, then parted her folds with his fingers, taking one look at her pretty pink flesh before moving his mouth to it.
She nearly jumped off the bed when his mouth grazed over her. She wiggled and squirmed, but he held the tops of her thighs to keep her still. And he feasted on her center like he’d feasted on her breasts. Licking, sucking, tasting,
She gazed up at him, blinking. “No one’s ever called me an angel before. I’ve done too many bad things.”
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her lips. “You’re an angel. My angel,” he murmured, thinking of how she’d appeared to him on the battlefield, of how he’d later woken to see her sleeping beside him. She’d brought a peace with her that he hadn’t seen in a year—that he’d needed more than he’d known.
“No,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said, moving his lips to her jaw and sucking gently. “Yes,” he murmured, moving up her jawline to her ear.
“Come to bed with me.” He laced her fingers with his, walked her to the bed, and clasped her waist and lifted her so she sat on its edge.
He glided his hands down the curve of her waist and along her outer thighs until he reached her ribbon garters, untying them both simultaneously, then rolling down her stockings, one leg at a time, and slipping off her shoes.
She sat very still, her breaths short, as she watched him work.
“So bonny,” he murmured, sliding his hands from her heels, up her legs and her waist and higher until he grasped her face in his palms, tilting it up. He leaned down and kissed her, tasting her sweetness, licking it up like ambrosia.
It took enormous strength of will to pull his lips from hers. “Lie down, lass.”
She did, and he crawled up onto the bed after her, removing the offending shirt as he went.
Now they were both bare. He gazed into her eyes, seeing the entreaty there. It had been so long. For both of them. There was an urgency that hadn’t been present since their wedding night, but he wasn’t about to steal his pleasure from her without ensuring she took her own. In any case, he knew from experience that it was always better for him when he knew she’d reached her peak before he did.
He lowered his lips to the pale skin over her collarbone, trailing his tongue along it, then dipping lower until he kissed the feminine slope of her breast.
He groaned. She was so sweet. So lovely. She tasted so damn good. And the way she moved her hands over his skin was alighting every nerve ending he possessed.
He made his way to her nipple and closed his lips around it. She arched into his mouth, gasping, as he played with the taut nub, rolling it around his tongue, suckling, tasting.
He cupped her breasts in his hands, pressing his cheeks against the impossibly soft flesh as he moved from one to the other.
She writhed and gasped as he continued to lick, suck, tease.
“I could do this all night,” he whispered against her skin.
“God, no,” she murmured.
“Why not?”
She didn’t answer.
“Have I teased you, love?”
“I… Yes,” she said, then made a soft keening sound as his lips closed over a nipple. He took his time with it, rubbing his lips over it, grazing his teeth over it. When he finally came up for air, she was panting.
“You terrible man,” she groaned.
It wasn’t meant to be an insult, or even an accusation. Rob knew this. But the words brought back that morning when he’d left her to join the regiment in Edinburgh, when she’d torn out his heart and flung it to the birds.
She could do that again. She was capable of doing it again. He hadn’t been able to steel his heart against her.
“Please, Rob,” she whimpered.
He closed his eyes, fighting off the surge of fear. Then he pressed his lips to the underslope of her breast, moving down over her ribs, passing over her stomach, then to the vee of hair at the apex of her legs. He nudged her knees apart, then parted her folds with his fingers, taking one look at her pretty pink flesh before moving his mouth to it.
She nearly jumped off the bed when his mouth grazed over her. She wiggled and squirmed, but he held the tops of her thighs to keep her still. And he feasted on her center like he’d feasted on her breasts. Licking, sucking, tasting,
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