Page 33 of A Virgin for the Vicious Highlander
His hands came up on either side of her head, bracing against the stone as her back pressed against the cool surface. He bent his head, raking his teeth across his lower lip as if she had displeased him, his eyes creased in something akin to pain.
“Why must ye tempt me so?” he growled, his hand moving to cradle the back of her head, his fingers sliding into her hair. “Do ye want to damn me?”
She peered up at him, panting hard at his closeness and the rasp in his words, spoken not in anger but desire. Her heart thundered in her chest, her stomach tightening as her handscame up and settled on his chest, lightly grasping the thin fabric of his léine.
“I just… want to be kissed,” she murmured.
He kissed her then, his mouth catching hers, his hand gripping the nape of her neck as he gave in to temptation. It was hard and fierce, stealing what breath she had left in her lungs.
For a moment, she did not know what to do, but as his mouth moved again in a guiding graze, she followed his lead. She gripped his shirt tighter and kissed him in return, her instincts taking over. She kissed him with all the fear she had been holding on to about having to return to the convent, she kissed him with all the force of the fantasies that had swirled through her mind, and she kissed him as if it was the first and last time that she would experience it.
He pressed her against the wall, and her hands smoothed over the firm planes of his chest and his shoulders before looping around his neck. She melted into him, her lips still following his lead—slowing and quickening at his silent instruction, ravenous in one moment and leisurely in the next.
This is what I might have missed if I hadnae been brave…
Her eyes widened as his tongue darted into her mouth, gliding against her own. It was the strangest sensation, though not at all unpleasant. Curious, she did the same to him, exploring his mouth, shivering as tingles raced down her neck to her chest.
Running her hands through his hair, she kissed him harder, gasping against his lips as his other hand began to explore the parts of her that no one was supposed to touch.
His rough palm skimmed over the swell of her breasts, kneading the soft flesh as his hips rocked against hers. She could barely catch her breath as she felt that mysterious hardness straining against his belted plaid. Her hand longed to slip beneath the material and discover what it was that had her so curious, but she had not yet reached that item on her list.
Suddenly, his lips left hers, grazing her jaw and down the curve of her neck. Then, his tongue ran up the column of her throat before his lips followed the trail back down. He kissed the exposed skin above her neckline, pulling the fabric down and the hem of her stays with it.
He buried his face in the supple flesh, drawing her nipple into his mouth. Her back arched off the wall as he sucked, a cry escaping her throat as she clung to him, overwhelmed as mild pain and intense pleasure mingled, shivering down her belly to the apex of her thighs. There, desire pooled, her entire being flushing with a feverish heat.
As his mouth teased her, his hand slid down the front of her dress, somehow following that crackling line of pleasure. At her hip, he grabbed flesh and bone, as he had done in the hunting cabin, and pushed her harder against the wall, trailing kisses back up to her neck.
And as he kissed her starved lips once more, his hand slipped between her thighs. The thickness of the fabric was so frustrating to Cecilia’s senses that she thought she might scream at the injustice of not knowing how it felt to be touched by him properly where that powder keg of pleasure pulsed and sparked, ready to be ignited.
The friction of his touch and the fabric of her gown made her breath catch in her throat as a hint of the potential bliss burst into life, sending a shiver of delight up to her abdomen. He moved his hand to the rhythm of his kisses, rough and sensual all at once, driving her to the brink of a delicious sort of madness. The kind that could make her throw all caution to the wind, denying her the ability toevertake her vows.
But all of a sudden, and all too soon, his kisses and his touch slowed to a stop, and he pulled back slightly, whispering against her lips, “Ye should leave.”
“Ye mean… yer study or…” she murmured, too dazed to string a full sentence together.
He stepped away from her. “Ye should go back to where ye came from. I’ll have the carriage take ye.”
She stared at him for a long while as her passionate gasps turned into a slow, hot hiss of anger. He had done it again—toying with her. And worse, she had allowed him to.
Still holding his gaze, she fixed the neckline of her dress and smoothed down her rumpled skirts, hoping he could feel every bit of the fury that radiated from her.
“I see,” she bit out. “Well, thank ye for yer time,M’Laird. I hope yer pursuit of Laird MacDunn keeps ye warm at night.”
She turned and made for the door, wrenching it open and heading out, making sure to slam it as hard as she could as she walked out into the hallway. Thebangechoed down the long corridor, masking the sound of her last hope shattering.
It was done. She was going home, never to leave that convent again. And she had been foolish to think that crossing “experiences” off her list would make that any easier.
CHAPTER 15
Wandering through the castle,uncertain whether to return to her bedchamber, find her aunt, or just grab Dipper and run off while she still had some freedom, Cecilia was not exactly paying attention to where she was going.
She rounded the corner in the main hallway that would take her back to Mairie, who was watching Dipper in the South Hall, and half stumbled into the group of councilmen who happened to be walking in the opposite direction.
“Careful now,” a gentle voice said as two strong hands held her steady.
She blinked up at the vaguely familiar face. “Thank ye, Mr. MacGill. I apologize. I wasnae lookin’ where I was goin’.”
“Ye seem flustered.” George MacGill eyed her with concern. “Are ye well?”
