Page 67 of Winter Longing
“Christ,” he murmured thickly and worked quickly, gathering the fabric of her chemise into his hands before lifting that up and over her head as well, until Ailsa stood before him in only her hose and short boots.
At first his gaze moved with the fabric, over all the parts of her revealed, but soon his eyes focused on her bared breasts. Ailsa watched him, marveling at the lean, severe contours of his face, how such austere lines could make for so handsome a man. Again there was a reverence in his touch, his hand moving with an aching slowness as he cupped the swollen mounds. He stared at them, his lips parted, his chest rising and falling.
Ailsa thought with a rare and kind self-appreciation that her skin looked like ivory in the soft light and that her breasts fit his large hands almost perfectly.
“Kiss me,” she whispered, nearly incoherent, wanting him to take her nipple between his teeth again, “there.”
Obligingly, he bent his head.
Ailsa sucked in a breath as his lips touched her nipple. But he did not tug at it again but first drew his tongue around it, creating an exquisite path of delicious torture to its peak. Her body reacted, blossoming at his touch. She was an instrument, and he merely plucked at strings, creating a melody in her pulse until she vibrated for him. “I like it,” she confessed breathlessly. “I like this very much.”
In response, he focused again on her nipple, holding it in his teeth, while inside his mouth, his tongue stroked the bud.
Ailsa gasped, her fingers tightening on his shoulders. Cole shifted her until her other breast was directly in front of him and repeated the beautiful torment. He was firm but gentle, clever, so easily eliciting a cry from her, begging for more.
“Please,” she whimpered as heat pooled low in her pelvis.
His lips, teeth, and tongue abandoned her breast.
“Say my name,” he instructed.
Chest heaving, Ailsa tipped her face down to him. “What?”
He laved his tongue over her nipple, his eyes locked on hers. “Say my name.”
“Cole,” she breathed.
He licked again and a muscle between her legs clenched involuntarily.
“When you beg, Ailsa, say my name,” he said, his breath warm on her cool, wet nipple. He watched her and waited.
“Please, Cole,” she managed, her voice suddenly unfamiliar, throaty. Desire soared even higher.
He gripped her tight and yanked her to him, plundering her nipple with renewed vigor.
“Cole,” she heard herself whisper again.
A moment later, while her head was thrown back and her hands were threaded in his hair, he paused and put his hand at the back of her thigh, lifting her leg off the ground. A weebit dazed, Ailsa moved her hands to his broad shoulders and glanced down as he removed her shoe and then glided his hand slowly up her leg to the top of her hose, slowly rolling it downward, his intense blue eyes worshipfully following his hand. Indifferently, he tossed the hose aside and repeated the process with her other leg.
And Ailsa stood completely naked before him.
Cole’s hands returned to her hips, his strong fingers curling possessively but not painfully into her flesh. His smoldering gaze lingered on her as though she were something rare and precious, his eyes tracing her shape and curves with an intensity that made her heart flutter. In that moment, as never before, she felt truly beautiful.
“Christ, Ailsa, you are unreal.” He met her gaze, his eyes softening, a subdued warmth flickering in the blue depths.
He stood then and pressed a brief kiss to her lips.
“Climb in bed,” he directed, his hands moving to his waist as he began to unbuckle his belt.
Ailsa did as instructed, pulling back the bedlinens, distressed by a fleeting, disheartening thought that it was done. But they couldn’t be, she reasoned. She was yet a maiden, she knew. God’s teeth, but she didn’t want to be!
Tucked under the blankets, she returned her attention to Cole.
Silhouetted by golden firelight, he doffed his tunic and then bent and removed his boots before peeling away his breeches and hose. Of course, his impressive chest she’d seen before, but still, she was not prepared for the thrill that nearly curled her toes at the sight of him fully naked, a masterwork of rugged beauty, corded muscles everywhere. As he returned to her, she took note—wordlessly, breathlessly— of his powerful thighs and then gulped, having her first glimpse of a fully aroused man.
And her thoughts became wildly inappropriate.
Cole might have caught sight of her wide-eyed gaze. “That’s one of those moving parts I mentioned,” he said, a hint of laughter in his tone.
