Page 17 of Kilty as Sin
Just one kiss.
Breathless, Grace felt herself leaning forward. Yearning. Hopeful.
Just one kiss. One experience of pleasure before she consigned herself to a lifetime of pain.
…The pleasure to be had between a man and a woman.
He’d said that. She’d begged him to stop teasing her with such words, but she wanted it. She wanted him.
The first brush of her lips against his was hesitant, delicate. She pulled back and stared down at him.
Barclay gave her no indication of what he was thinking. His arm was still locked like a band around her middle and he still held her free hand in his. But his gaze was…warm.Hot, even.
He wasn’t going to say aught? He wasn’t going to chastise her, or take what she was offering? Fine, then.
She swallowed then leaned forward once more. This was her moment, and she wouldn’t allow herself to be afraid. Not now, not ever.
This time the kiss lasted longer. He held himself still as her lips roamed across his. She nipped at his lower lip, then dragged her tongue across it, marveling at how the skin could be so rough and still feel so perfect.
Finally—finally!—his lips parted on a groan of surrender.
She felt a grin blooming, and then before she could blink, he’d rolled. Suddenly she was pressed against the scree, with Barclay hovering over her. And he was taking control of the kiss.
Thiskiss…
This kiss…
Well, it was quite an instructive few minutes, Grace had to admit.
He taught her how to tease, how to caress, how to stroke. His tongue played with hers, and she was an eager learner.
Pleasure!
This is what he’d meant! The pleasure between a man and a woman! It was truly remarkable how a series of actions between two sets of lips—and a pair of tongues—could be tied directly to her chest, her stomach, and…lower.
Liquid heat pooled between her thighs, and she shifted beneath him, uncertain what it was she needed. One of his thighs slipped between hers, which should have felt like an invasion.
But when he caught her lower lip between his teeth, her muffled gasp turned into a moan, and she arched against him, pressing her hips into his.
Into hishardness.
She was not so innocent as to not know what that hardness meant, and the thought increased her arousal even more.
Barclay was the one to end the kiss, to pull away with a deep groan, to freeze, staring down at her as he panted heavily.
She wanted to speak, but her lips—hermind—couldn’t form words. What to say? How to thank someone for such an amazing experience?
And then, as she watched, his expression shuttered.
Before, he’d looked at her as if she was someone special. Someone to cherish. Now…?
Now there was a hardness in those green eyes. Anger.
At her?
Barclay reached sideways to grab his helmet, then rolled off her with a hiss. They were still lying on the slope, but now he glared up at his mount. The animal was perched on an absurdly small ledge.
“Horse! Dinnae stand there uselessly!”
