Page 59 of The Rogue's Bride
Breathing hard, she watched his gaze devour her.
Motherhood had changed her figure, made her breasts fuller, her hips a little broader. Small puckered stretch-marks marked her belly, and she forced herself not to cover them with her hands. There wasn’t any point in hiding from him.
She glanced down at her body to see her breasts strained toward him, her swollen pink nipples aching for his touch.
When she looked back at Alasdair, she watched him wet his lips, his high cheekbones flushing. He heeled off his boots and shrugged off his léine. Then he unlaced his braies and let them drop to the floor.
His body, long and lean, made her suck in a breath—as did the sight of his shaft. Fully erect, it strained up against his belly. Her knees trembled as a shiver of fear went through her. The only man she’d ever lain with was Baltair. Before now she’d only ever known roughness and brutality at a man’s touch. However, when Alasdair reached for her, pulling her gently into his arms, the fear dissipated.
The feel of their naked flesh touching caused her to whimper. His skin was so hot, she wanted to taste it. She bowed her head to his neck and gently bit the tender skin there.
Alasdair growled, his chest rising and falling sharply while she continued her exploration, her tongue tracing the whorls of hair on his chest, before she discovered that his nipples pebbled under her touch. She nibbled one, and he gasped. The male musk of his skin was intoxicating. She suddenly felt dizzy with want.
Alasdair’s hands went to her hair, and his fingers tangled in the soft curls. Then he pulled her up and kissed her again. This time, it was slow and sensual—a kiss that made Caitrin melt into his arms. The feel of his arousal pressed up against her belly made shivering excitement pool in the cradle of her hips. Restlessness rose within her. She needed more.
Alasdair picked her up, his hands sliding under her buttocks, and carried Caitrin to the narrow bed. Together, they collapsed onto the mattress. Tearing his mouth from hers, he bent his head to her breasts and suckled them, drawing each nipple deep into his mouth. He sucked hard until she groaned under him, before continuing his leisurely progress down her body. Then he spread her legs and knelt down between them.
Caitrin groaned, arching back against the cool coverlet. Her body thrummed with pleasure now, radiating out from a hot pulse at her core. His tongue, his fingers, made her forget her own name. She felt boneless, just a molten pool of want. Her body began to quiver.
Softly, she moaned his name.
He rose up between them, spread her legs wider still, and positioned himself at the entrance to her womb. Caitrin glanced down between them, her breath catching at the sight of his shaft pressing against her damp nest of blonde curls.
“I’m going to take ye slowly,mo leannan,” Alasdair breathed. Sweat coated his body. His hair fell like black silk over his broad shoulders. “I want to make this last.”
Caitrin could only groan in response.My lover. She didn’t care what he did, as long as he was inside her.
He entered Caitrin then, inching into her, stretching and filling her. And then he began to move in long, easy strokes.
Throwing her head back, Caitrin gave a long shuddering moan and embraced the waves of pleasure that now pulsated out from where their bodies joined. Alasdair changed position, hooking her legs over his shoulders, before he continued his deep, slow, and deliberate thrusts.
The look on his face, the strain as he struggled to keep a leash on his control, excited her beyond measure. She wanted to see him unravel, just as she was.
Caitrin let go of any lingering inhibitions and angled her hips up to meet each thrust, bringing him deeper still. She arched back and let her groans fill the bower, writhing against him.
It had never felt like this before—she now understood what all the fuss was about. Why her sisters had gotten coy, secretive expressions on their faces when they’d spoken of lying with their men.
It was magic, an enchantment she gave herself up to willingly.
“Caitrin,” Alasdair gasped, his voice raw with need. His hands cupped her buttocks as he thrust hard into her now, his self-control slipping. Caitrin cried out, pleasure radiating out in deep, throbbing waves from the cradle of her lower belly.
Then Alasdair drove into her once more, and a rush of heat exploded inside her as he gave a throaty cry.
Trembling on the bed, Caitrin looked up to see that Alasdair was bent over her. His sweat-slick body quivered. He was struggling to catch his breath. Reaching out, Caitrin brushed the hair out of his eyes. Panting, Alasdair raised his chin, and their gazes fused.
It was a long, hot look, infused with more meaning than either of them could articulate.
Caitrin awoke to the sound of anguished groaning.
Pushing herself up onto one elbow, her gaze fell upon Alasdair. The last of the glowing embers in the hearth softly illuminated the narrow bed where they lay. Alasdair was asleep next to her on his back, but he was not at peace. He writhed and twitched, his skin gleaming with sweat. His features were twisted into a grimace, and his hands clenched and unclenched by his sides. He appeared to be in the grip of a violent dream.
As Caitrin observed him, he flinched before crying out.
“Alasdair.”
He paid her no mind, his body going rigid, and then his head jerked from side to side. “No … no.”
“Alasdair!” She reached out, gripped his shoulder, and shook him.
