Page 75 of The Groom Wore Plaid
For just a moment they rocked together, his penisrubbing along the length of her. He felt her knees soften, and then he picked her right up and carried her to the bed. He set her on her feet, and she started to fist the nightshift at her hips, but he stopped her. She looked so suitably worried that he found himself smiling.
“Allow me.”
He took the folds in his hands and moved slowly upward, letting the fabric drag along her thighs. He kissed her, head slanted, mouth opened hungrily over hers. She kept her hands on his chest as if she’d fall without his support.
And then he could touch her waist, and his hot hands cupped her there and moved slowly higher, her nightshift draping over his arms. He took her breasts in his hands and for a long minute he played with them, cupping, kneading, gently twisting her nipples, then caressing to soothe them. She didn’t seem to be able to take a deep enough breath, and neither could he.
At last he needed to see her, and he drew the nightshift right over her head and stepped back. She stood there, chin lifted, her body slightly trembling. The candles scattered through the room made her body glow, the brightest, most beautiful thing in the shadowy room.
He bent to take her breast deeply into his mouth even as he played with the other one. Her arms went behind and she braced herself on the bed, head dropped back, her dark hair vivid against the pale sheets.
Dropping to one knee, Owen kissed his way downher soft belly, and then nuzzled at the silky hair of her sex. He thought she would protest, but she only moaned and spread her thighs. She excited him, Maggie did. Bold and unafraid and a match for him in every way. He stroked her with his tongue, then lifted her thigh and went deeper, against the heart of her, where he wanted to be.
She clutched his hair, murmuring his name, her excited pants growing faster. He circled her clitoris with his tongue, then stroked, reaching up to caress her breast. She arched backward as she reached her ultimate pleasure, and he kissed her softly before rising.
Her eyes, blue and green, were half closed with pleasure and satisfaction, but no shame. Then she stared down at his shirt, where it stuck straight out at her hips. He didn’t hesitate, only pulled the garment over his head.
But she scooted back on the bed and reached for him. He climbed up and over her on all fours, staring at her hair gloriously tumbled around her shoulders like a dark sun. He settled down between her thighs, kissing her with urgency again. She moved restlessly against him, lifting her knees, clutching his hips hard, and it was as natural as breathing to slide into her. She gave a little gasp, and he stilled.
“Nay, it doesn’t hurt much,” she said. “It just surprised me.”
“Tell me if there’s any pain,” he whispered against her mouth.
He started moving then, withdrawing until she cried out as if he’d leave her, then surging back inside with the satisfaction of knowing she desired him. He couldn’t stop himself, the pleasure taking over his mind, his will. He thrust hard and deep, over and over, knowing he should wait for her to climax again, but unable to. He cried out with the passionate release, shuddering, surging, feeling only her heels against his ass, watching through half-closed eyes as she flung her arms exuberantly wide and looked up at him with such a wicked, delicious smile, none of her reluctance and diffidence there.
She was his, at last, forever.
And then reality came back to him, not with slow, languid pleasure, but with the dawning realization that he might have shown her too much, too much desperation and need, shown her how much he cared, how lost he’d be without her.
He didn’t want to be so controlled by his emotions, by a woman. When he gave in like that, that darkness seemed to rise up and possess him. He’d spent his lifetime learning to manipulate his very will, and he’d just surrendered it all to this obsession with a woman who wouldn’t marry him.
CHAPTER17
Still joined to Owen so intimately, Maggie saw immediately when he began to withdraw from her—both physically and emotionally. It was his expression first, steadily changing from passion to contentment to wariness and then at last into utter impassivity. Then he left her body, leaving her feeling so very empty, rolled off her and right out of bed. Suddenly, she felt too wanton, too sinful, and she pulled a sheet over her.
She should be used to his behavior. He’d done his best not to allow her a glimpse of his emotions, of his vulnerabilities. When she’d seen his reaction to the suicide letter, she’d felt they’d at last reached a deeper level—she’d known she wasn’t just a bargaining tool between two powerful clans. Her love trapped unacknowledged in her heart could be denied no longer, and she’d given herself to him,made lovewith him. She didn’t want to regret it, but apparently he did.
He poured water in the basin and washed his face and hands, as if he needed to be free of the scent of her.
Oh, now she was the one who was letting her doubts hold sway, reading too much into a simple act. He’d told her he’d desired her from the beginning. His emotional retreat wasn’t about the physical connection between them.
He hadn’t drawn on his clothing yet, so perhaps that was a good sign. She could study him at will, at the patterns formed by candle and shadow on every sculpted muscle of his body. He was masculine and overwhelming, and he made her skin heat just by seeing all that splendid . . . man. He had a few small scars just to make things interesting and intriguing.
And then he turned to face her, and she saw that he was aroused again, that he still desired her. She wanted to melt back into the pillows, to draw back the sheets and offer herself to him.
And with her luck, a baby and a wedding ceremony would be the result. Oh, God, had she just guaranteed that she’dhaveto marry him?
She burst into tears.
She saw Owen’s shock for only a moment before she had to cover her face and hunch there, growing more and more miserable. She wanted to curl into a little ball and stay hidden for the rest of her life. It was all too much.
“Maggie?”
She felt his hands on her back, and she wanted toshrug him off, but that would take too much effort. And for a moment, the heat of a human hand felt so comforting.
“Maggie, talk to me. Did I hurt you?”
Even his brogue was gone again. She cried harder.
