Reluctant (Heroes of the Highlands) (The MacKays #3) by Kerrigan Byrne

her movements, then lower, to where they were joined, to her lips, her hair, and every place in between.
    Astonishment and awe lay like strangers on his face and they mingled with tight, mounting pleasure. His hands quivered on her thighs, kneaded them, but didn’t control her movements.
    He uttered her name like dying men plead with the gods. He said things to her in his guttural language that she was glad she didn’t understand, because she couldn’t hear them and still do what she had to do.
    She just focused on the heat of him inside of her, and the movements that brought them both closer to bliss. She went slowly because she didn’t want it to end. All she wanted was to melt around him, to become a part of his indescribable strength. To be tied to it and call upon it when hers failed.
    Pressure mounted. Different than before. An aching, roiling pleasure that sizzled and snapped along the currents between them until she couldn’t be sure which of their orgasms began first. They simultaneously spun off into the night sky. Her pulsating sex throbbed around the warm spurts of his release. They made little noise this time, both of them lost in the straining breaths of an incredible, excruciating paroxysm.
    When it released her, Kamdyn collapsed atop his chest.
    Soren still quivered and jerked a few times beneath her, and even when his great body stilled, the muscles of his thighs and chest twitched every few moments in little unbidden aftershocks.
    His big arms came around her and clasped her to his body, even though he seemed to struggle for breath. “ Du är min. Och jag är evigt din .” So filled with veracity was his low murmur, that Kamdyn had to lift her head.
    “What?” she queried.
    “I said: You may kill me now.” He slanted a sated look of humor in her direction that wasn’t exactly a smile.
    Her jaw cracked on a monstrous yawn. “Must I? I’m too tired to do anything just now. Can it wait until morning?” Her eyes flew open. “Oh, is that too cruel?”
    He nuzzled his nose into her hair. “You would sleep with me? What if I try and kill you first?”
    Thoroughly unconcerned about that, Kamdyn burrowed her face against his warm chest, the chill of the evening finally seeping through her skin. “Please don’t.”
    In a swift, graceful move, he was standing and carrying her back toward the camp.
    “All right, my little Banshee, you can kill me in the morning.”
    My little Banshee. Kamdyn chewed on the inside of her cheek even as she snuggled into the warmth of his arms. He’d not said it like that before.

Chapter Nine
    Soren lounged on his furs and cursed the sun as he felt dawn approaching. He’d woken inside her, halfway to release, and she’d ridden him to yet another soul-shattering end.
    This time, she’d allowed him to help.
    “It kept flexing at my back while you slept,” she offered by way of explanation when she rolled off of him with a contented sigh.
    Only an idiot would explain a morning erection to someone willing to put it to good use, most especially when it might be his last.
    Besides, she hadn’t stopped talking since.
    Soren didn’t mind. He enjoyed the sound of her voice, its brogue and cadence a pleasant melody in the darkness. In fact, he’d asked her the question that had catalyzed her, but had since forgotten what it was. At first, he’d listened to every word. He’d learned of her older sisters. About the honorable men they’d married. The Druid seemed to be the most prolific, spawning what sounded to him like a tribe of MacKay babes. The Laird and her eldest sister had only daughters and Kamdyn was pleased that her brother-in-law didn’t seem to mind.
    He’d chuckled at her stories of the Laird’s overprotective antics while chasing suitors away from his girls. He’d snarled fiercely when she’d told him of her violent end in a fire. Then she’d shocked him further by revealing that the very Berserkers who’d contracted after his death also had avenged