Page 31 of Promised to the Ruthless Laird
For a moment, he stilled, breathing heavily, his forehead resting against hers.
Then he pulled back just enough to look at her.
His gaze burned into her, sweeping over her face, her parted lips, down to her neck, to the soft curve of her chest, only barely hidden by the fabric of her nightgown. His eyes darkened, his restraint hanging by a thread.
Heat pooled between them, unbearable, inescapable.
Then his lips were on her neck, slow and deliberate, his tongue tracing a path from her collarbone up, past the hollow of her throat, along the sensitive skin beneath her ear.
She shuddered.
A moan escaped her lips as he found that spot just beneath her hairline, his tongue flicking against her pulse before his teeth scraped over it, making her body arch beneath him.
It was too much. But it was not enough. The heat of him, the weight of his body against hers, the way his hands traced over her skin as if trying to claim every inch — it sent her spiraling, unraveling beneath his touch.
She needed him closer. Desperately. But even then, she knew, there would never be enough closeness between them; never a moment where she did not crave more, did not ache for the impossible notion of becoming one with him entirely.
Her body pressed into his, seeking him, pleading without words, her fingers clutching at his tunic. There was no stopping her descent, no pulling herself free.
She had already surrendered to him
A rough exhale left him as he shifted lower, his lips trailing a path down the delicate slope of her shoulder, then lower still. His fingers curled around the hem of her nightgown, lifting it slowly, baring inch after inch of her to his heated gaze. He sat back on his heels for a moment, devouring the sight of her, a muscle in his jaw flexing.
Then, with aching slowness, he leaned forward again, his mouth pressing against the soft swell of her breast. Through the thin fabric, his tongue traced a languid path, teasing, tasting, untilshe gasped and arched into him, her hands flying to his hair, threading through the thick strands as if to hold him there.
A groan rumbled low in his throat, and he moved lower still. The sensation of his lips skimming over her stomach made her shiver, anticipation coiling tight inside her. He grasped her hips, firm yet reverent, and pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin just above her navel, his breath hot, teasing.
“Tell me tae stop,” he murmured against her skin, though his voice was thick with need, rough with restraint. “Tell me now, or I’ll nae be able tae.”
She swallowed, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in every inch of her body. Her fingers tightened in his hair, trembling, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
“I’ll nae tell ye tae stop,” she whispered.
Something in him snapped.
With a growl of pure possession, he tugged the nightgown higher, stripping it from her completely before settling between her thighs. She barely had time to catch her breath before he lowered his head, his lips and tongue worshipping her in ways that made her gasp, made her tremble, made her forget everything except the feel of him — the way his mouth sent wave after wave of pleasure crashing through her.
Her hands fisted in the sheets, her body arching against him as he drove her higher, pushed her further, until all she could do was cry out his name, her release shattering through her in an exquisite rush.
He did not stop until she lay boneless beneath him, her chest rising and falling in rapid, uneven breaths. Only then did he move, rising up to press a searing kiss to her lips, letting her taste herself on his tongue.
She was trembling.
From the way he had undone her so completely.
And from the knowledge that she would let him do it again and again, for as long as he wished.
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