Page 109 of All Scot and Bothered
And thereby couldn’t wait to do it again.
Seven. Fucking. Years. He’d wait another seven for this. For her.
He’d wait a lifetime.
Once his bones unlocked and his limbs began to workagain, Ramsay still couldn’t bring himself to let her go. He attended to her, cleaning them both with his discarded shirt before gathering her close and rolling to his back.
He draped her over him, thighs parted and her delicious weight settled across his chest and hips. She seemed apprehensive at first, but her legs trembled too greatly to protest for long, and so she splayed in a lazy heap of luscious woman as her hair spilled across his shoulder.
He stroked the spun-copper silk, brushing her locks gently with his fingers, massaging little points of tension on her scalp and her neck idly as they each listened to the other breathe.
Her breath disturbed some of the hair on his chest, tickling it pleasantly, and he scratched at it.
Cecelia took the opportunity to grasp his fingers and press a kiss to each one.
The little gesture nearly melted him into a puddle of tenderness.
“I felt guilty that you’d been exiled out here,” she said between her ministrations to his knuckles. “But now I see the benefits of sleeping beneath the Scottish stars.”
A languorous yawn overtook her, and she stretched over him like a sated cat who’d had her fill of cream.
“If ye insist upon moving like that, woman, ye’ll not have time to recover before I’m inside ye again.”
She gave a little whuff of exhausted laughter before lifting her head to peer down at him curiously. “I understand now why people pay such lofty prices if sex is like that.”
Ramsay was so struck by her tousled beauty, he had trouble processing her words for a good half a minute. “It’s rarely ever like that,” he said with a pleasured sigh.
Her lashes fanned down over her cheeks as she tracedan invisible design on his shoulder with her fingertip. “So… you consider me a satisfactory lover, then?”
“Satisfactory?” He snorted, letting his head land on the ground with a thump. “If ye were any better, ye’d have killed me.”
“You’re having me on,” she accused.
“Do ye not see what ye’ve done to me, woman?” He swatted at her backside, a motion that turned into a grope. “How can ye question my word?”
“Because I did little better than lie there and enjoy your skill, all told.”
“Skilled, am I?” He flashed her a grin full of masculine arrogance.
It had the opposite effect than he’d imagined. Her own features froze, and then fell, as she stared at him in astonished silence.
“Did something trouble ye?” he asked with concern.
“I do believe that’s the first time I’ve ever witnessed a smile on your face,” she said in a hushed tone. “It’s quite… brilliant.” Her fingers reached out and traced his mouth before she settled her soft lips against his.
At this, Ramsay made a silent vow to smile more.
“Artifice has never come easy to me,” he said, trying to ease his sober statement with a wry sort of half smile. “I think most people smile when they doona feel it. And I’ve mastered many skills and etiquette, but that is not one of them.”
“I like that about you,” she said brightly. “Then your smiles are genuine. Rare. Something to be treasured. Like diamonds.”
“The things ye say,” he murmured, wondering if the blush creeping up his skin was visible in the moonlight.
She nuzzled him, and the affectionate gesture touched him deeply.
“Can I ask you something?”
He chuckled. “Ye could ask me to skewer the moon with my bow and arrow at this moment and I’d give it my best effort.”
