Page 21 of Plaid Attitude
Because it’ll make ye feel better.
Because I want to.
Because I think ye want it too.
He didn’t say any of those words, and she didn’t ask himwhy, afraid she wouldn’t like his answer.
All she knew was her pulse was pounding loudly in her ears, and the edges of her vision were going gray, and she couldn’t seem to think straight—
Inhale, ye ninny!
Och, aye, that was why.
Coira sucked in a deep, gasping breath, enough to make her cough, but he made no further move, and didn’t ask her again.
So, she did the only thing shecoulddo: she nodded.
His smile was slow and sensual, and she could swear there was something likegratitudeor perhapsreliefin his blue eyes as he leaned toward her.
Their lips brushed against one another, and that was it. He froze, holding her about the shoulder, and let her acclimate to his touch.
It wasn’t enough.
This was her first kiss, but sheknewthere was more to it than this; her sisters had spoken of taking flight, of waterfalls and explosions and doves flapping about…things Coira was almost certain were metaphors.
But Doughall just brushed his lips against hers and didn’t move. She could smell his familiar scent, but now ‘twas different somehow, with her lips so involved, if not actively engaged.
Experimentally, she parted her lips, hoping to encourage him, and it worked.
As he deepened the kiss, she reached instinctively for his other hand, and found it curled into a fist on his thigh. Covering it with her own, she tipped her head back and allowed him to take the lead in the kiss.
He did.
Praise the saints, but Doughall Moray knew how to kiss!
He moved slowly at first, ensuring she was comfortable with each step before moving to the next. But each leisurely movement brought new wonder to her, and she found herself gasping with surprise as he showed her exactlyhowtongues might be employed in the whole kissing experience.
His lips moved over hers, building in insistence, and she felt hers curl into a smile under his ministrations. And when she slipped her tongue between his lips to mimic his movements, she felt him grinning as well.
Then he turned his hand, twining her fingers through his, as his other hand fell from her shoulders. There was no time to be disappointed before he was caressing the back of her neck, then cupping her cheek, then dragging his callused fingertips down her throat to rest in the hollow at the base where her pulse fluttered madly.
She shuddered at his touch.
The kiss ended as softly as it had begun, but he didn’t leave her. Instead, he pressed his forehead against hers, his fingers still resting delicately against the base of her throat.
When she inhaled, the air which filled her lungs had last been in his.
“How do ye feel?” he murmured.
Coira blinked, remembering the purpose of this wonderful, mind-altering exercise, then took stock of her body, the way she’d taught Bess to do after sparring.
“I feel…” She rolled her shoulders slightly. “Better. Less tense.”
Shefelthim grin. “Good. So it worked?”
Was he teasing her? She pulled back to frown at him. “Aye, my thanks.”
But he tsked, his grin lopsided. “Ye’relesstense, but ye’re no’no’tense. I dinnae think we’re done.”
