Page 41 of A Wife for the Highland Villain
The world faded away, and only the wall at her back, the moonlight on her skin, and the fire that burned between them remained.
CHAPTER 13
His mouth moved against hers,and she melted into him. Her lips parted and let him in, and his tongue danced with hers in a wave of fiery heat. It was something she was rather familiar with at this point.
Alasdair groaned low, and his hands roamed over her thighs. She felt a shudder run up her spine as his hands slipped even higher. Her skin prickled, and her chest heaved.
He pressed her harder against the wall, and she felt him between her thighs, growing hard as a rock in mere seconds. Her hands settled on his belt, and it clinked as she furiously unbuckled it, desperate to free him.
His hands reached for her chin, and a mild gasp escaped her lips. Her body was growing hotter beneath his touch, and a part of her wondered if he was aware of that effect.
It was almost like he knew exactly what part of her body to touch and how long he had to linger before moving on to somewhere else. It was like he had memorized her. Like he knew where to kiss her.
Wait.He knew exactly where to kiss her and how to do it because he’d done it ten years ago.
The thought cut through the haze, and a whisper, sharp as a blade, rang in her ears. It was her mother’s voice. She could practically hear her last words, as if she were there again, watching and warning.
He left, Lily. Left with nay word and nay reason.
She tilted her hand back while he licked down the column of her neck and his hands slid back up above her waist.
Ye were just a lass. He doesnae deserve to be looked for. He is a grown man who kent what he was doing.
The pain returned, fast and fierce.
Ten years. Ten years without him. Ten years of silence after he had left. Ten years of wounds that no kiss could ever heal.
Her hands stilled on his belt, and she froze, her chest heaving.
“Stop.” The word tore from her lips.
Alasdair drew back, his breathing ragged. His hands dropped from her waist, and his eyes settled on her face.
“What?” His voice was low, almost a growl.
She swallowed hard. “This was a mistake.”
He frowned. “Lily?—”
“Nay.” She pressed her palms against his chest, forcing space between them. Her voice shook, but she steadied it. “This should never have happened. It was wrong. Itiswrong.”
“Ye’re me wife.”
“Doesnae change anything.”
Ye left me once. Ye’ll do it again.
He stood there, his jaw tight, his chest heaving. The moonlight accentuated the lines of his face, deep with strain. “Do ye mean that?”
She lifted her chin and forced herself to meet his eyes, though her heart beat like a drum. “I do. Whatever this is, it cannae happen again.”
He stared at her for a long while. His hand lingered in the air between them, as though he might reach for her again. But then he dropped it.
When he spoke, his voice was quiet, strained, as though every word scraped him raw. “As ye wish.”
He bent to fasten his belt, each tug sharp and precise. He did not look at her or try to speak further. He only gave her a brief nod, turned around and walked to the door, and let it slam shut behind him.
The silence that followed rang louder than his voice.
