invited.
Her own tantalized. At least she hoped it did. This time when he kissed her, she vowed, she mustn’t react like a ninny. She must be bold, she told herself, as bold as he. As brazen and daring as he. To that end, she placed a hand on the center of his chest and pushed him toward the bed. He tumbled back with a husky laugh, reaching out to catch her as he fell.
She had no choice but to follow him down. Sweet heaven, she was lying atop him. On top of him.
The realization had scarcely registered than he moved, a subtle but deliberate movement. Strong fingers caught behind her knee, hiking it up to one side so her hips pressed hard against his. Her heart lurched, for what she felt was hard. Well, she decided, half amused, half frenzied, it seemed she’d managed to succeed in her quest. There was no question she had aroused him. The proof of it jutted against her. Why, the cad had managed to lock her into a shockingly intimate position—parting her legs so she was astride him, the valley between her thighs riding against the ridge of his—
His hips thrust up.
Maura gasped.
The Scotsman laughed, a low throaty sound. “That pleases you, eh, Irish?”
The boastful boor! So he thought she was pleased, did he? Shocked, was how she would have described it. Shocked speechless, in fact. Shaking, every nerve inside quivering. Did he feel it? Yet what did it matter if he did? No doubt he’d mistake it for pleasure again!
A low rumble of laughter rushed past her ear. An arm about her back, he tugged her fully onto the bed so they lay face-to-face. His fingers encroached beneath the loose neckline of her blouse, catching it and dragging the cloth down, fully baring one breast.
That same, shameless hand now shaped itself around one buttock. Maura squirmed. Oh, but she knew it! He mistook her movements for reciprocation of his ardor. He kissed the arch of her shoulder, brushing his lips across her collarbone clear to the hollow where it met her neck. His fingertips grazed a blazing trail to the crown of her breast. Once. Then again. A touch that stunned her beyond measure. Her eyes widened in shock as his dark head bent low.
His tongue touched her nipple. Maura watched in shock as the pale peak disappeared into the wet cave of his mouth. He sucked hard, alternately swirling his tongue around the peak. Fiery sensation exploded all through her.
Her throat arched. A low moan escaped.
He raised his head. A husky, indolent whisper slid past her ear. “Patience, Irish. We have all night.”
No, Maura countered silently. Desperately. They did not have all night. Toothless Nan, whose knowledge of herbs and the like had been passed down for generations, told her it wouldn’t take long before her concoction took hold. Silently, Maura railed. She’d waited too long. She should have poured the wine earlier—
The thought was obliterated.
She hadn’t noticed the Scotsman unlace his breeches. His hand engulfed hers. As if from a distance, she saw him tuck her fingers within his and bring them down. Down below his waist. Down until her knuckles brushed dark, wiry hair. Down until he guided her palm—finger by finger—around a column of thick, rigid flesh.
Maura felt the pleasure that vibrated in his chest. She was stunned to the core. It should never have progressed this far. A few kisses. A brief, forbidden caress at most. She had prepared herself to endure his touch, no matter how much she might dread it. Little had she realized there was pleasure to be found in it!
But the one thing she hadn’t prepared herself for was a touch of such blatant explicitness.
Her heart raced. Had Nan been wrong? she wondered frantically.
She found herself praying. Oh, lord, oh, lord, oh, lord.
She sensed something was different, even before she felt it. The Scotsman eased to his back, throwing an elbow over his eyes.
Maura froze. The clock on the night table ticked away the seconds. Still afraid to move—to hope!—she
Her own tantalized. At least she hoped it did. This time when he kissed her, she vowed, she mustn’t react like a ninny. She must be bold, she told herself, as bold as he. As brazen and daring as he. To that end, she placed a hand on the center of his chest and pushed him toward the bed. He tumbled back with a husky laugh, reaching out to catch her as he fell.
She had no choice but to follow him down. Sweet heaven, she was lying atop him. On top of him.
The realization had scarcely registered than he moved, a subtle but deliberate movement. Strong fingers caught behind her knee, hiking it up to one side so her hips pressed hard against his. Her heart lurched, for what she felt was hard. Well, she decided, half amused, half frenzied, it seemed she’d managed to succeed in her quest. There was no question she had aroused him. The proof of it jutted against her. Why, the cad had managed to lock her into a shockingly intimate position—parting her legs so she was astride him, the valley between her thighs riding against the ridge of his—
His hips thrust up.
Maura gasped.
The Scotsman laughed, a low throaty sound. “That pleases you, eh, Irish?”
The boastful boor! So he thought she was pleased, did he? Shocked, was how she would have described it. Shocked speechless, in fact. Shaking, every nerve inside quivering. Did he feel it? Yet what did it matter if he did? No doubt he’d mistake it for pleasure again!
A low rumble of laughter rushed past her ear. An arm about her back, he tugged her fully onto the bed so they lay face-to-face. His fingers encroached beneath the loose neckline of her blouse, catching it and dragging the cloth down, fully baring one breast.
That same, shameless hand now shaped itself around one buttock. Maura squirmed. Oh, but she knew it! He mistook her movements for reciprocation of his ardor. He kissed the arch of her shoulder, brushing his lips across her collarbone clear to the hollow where it met her neck. His fingertips grazed a blazing trail to the crown of her breast. Once. Then again. A touch that stunned her beyond measure. Her eyes widened in shock as his dark head bent low.
His tongue touched her nipple. Maura watched in shock as the pale peak disappeared into the wet cave of his mouth. He sucked hard, alternately swirling his tongue around the peak. Fiery sensation exploded all through her.
Her throat arched. A low moan escaped.
He raised his head. A husky, indolent whisper slid past her ear. “Patience, Irish. We have all night.”
No, Maura countered silently. Desperately. They did not have all night. Toothless Nan, whose knowledge of herbs and the like had been passed down for generations, told her it wouldn’t take long before her concoction took hold. Silently, Maura railed. She’d waited too long. She should have poured the wine earlier—
The thought was obliterated.
She hadn’t noticed the Scotsman unlace his breeches. His hand engulfed hers. As if from a distance, she saw him tuck her fingers within his and bring them down. Down below his waist. Down until her knuckles brushed dark, wiry hair. Down until he guided her palm—finger by finger—around a column of thick, rigid flesh.
Maura felt the pleasure that vibrated in his chest. She was stunned to the core. It should never have progressed this far. A few kisses. A brief, forbidden caress at most. She had prepared herself to endure his touch, no matter how much she might dread it. Little had she realized there was pleasure to be found in it!
But the one thing she hadn’t prepared herself for was a touch of such blatant explicitness.
Her heart raced. Had Nan been wrong? she wondered frantically.
She found herself praying. Oh, lord, oh, lord, oh, lord.
She sensed something was different, even before she felt it. The Scotsman eased to his back, throwing an elbow over his eyes.
Maura froze. The clock on the night table ticked away the seconds. Still afraid to move—to hope!—she
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