Page 48 of Awoken
“Then lie with me.”
Ross muttered a curse before dragging a hand over his face. “There are some things ye can never take back, Leanna. Yer maidenhead is one of them.”
“And what do I care about that?” she snapped, her ire rising now. “Would ye prefer I gave it to MacKinnon … is he more worthy than ye?”
Ross went still. Of course he didn’t want MacKinnon to have her—he’d made his opinion on that very clear. Even so, after everything that had transpired this felt wrong. “I’m not a humble man,” he said, his voice hardening as he made one last attempt to keep Leanna at arm’s length, “but even I know when I’m not worthy of something. After what I did … I don’t deserve to lie with ye.”
Leanna moved closer to him, one small hand resting upon his knee. “Let me decide that.” Her breathing caught then, her fingers tentatively sliding up his thigh. “Cast yer conscience aside, Ross. Just like my maidenhead, it is meaningless now.”
Heart pounding, Ross caught her hand just as it neared his aching groin. “Ye don’t know what ye ask,” he repeated, a rasp to his voice.
“I do.”
He stared into her eyes and realized that despite her innocence, there was a wisdom in Leanna that transcended age and experience. She didn’t know how to behave, or what to expect from coupling with a man, yet she was honest in her desire for him.
He could see it in the way her pupils dilated at his nearness, and the sharp rise and fall of her chest.
Suddenly, Ross was tired of fighting this, tired of punishing himself for all the mistakes he’d made.
Leanna spoke the truth—neither of them knew what the coming days would bring. These moments alone might be all they’d have.
His pulse was racing so fast now that Ross was starting to feel a little sick. Still grasping Leanna’s hand, he reached forward with his free one and traced his fingers down her cheek.
It was no good—he wasn’t made of stone. A man could only deny himself up to a certain point.
“Ye are the bonniest thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, “and I will give ye all of me this night … I will worship yer body with my own if that is what ye wish.”
He watched Leanna swallow, her lips parting.
Ross’s hand slid down from her cheek, following the graceful line of her neck. He then reached behind her, gently taking hold of her braid. In a deft movement he removed the leather strip binding it, before he gently unwound the plait, weaving his fingers sensually into the fine softness of her hair.
He heard her breathing quicken further, and then he leaned forward, tracing his lips down her cheek to her neck. There, he inhaled the sweetness of her skin. Leanna’s answering sigh made his already aching shaft stiffen to the point of pain. Did she have any idea what she did to him? His hand released hers and delved into her pale-blonde mane, his fingers spanning across the back of her scalp.
And then he tore his lips from her neck and covered her mouth with his.
Earlier, when he’d kissed her, Ross had gone gently. He knew what she’d narrowly avoided at MacKinnon’s hands and hadn’t wanted to frighten her. She responded eagerly to his kiss now, but even so, he still held back. He wanted to ravage her mouth with his, yet he kept the kiss tender and achingly sensual.
However, when Leanna’s tongue tangled with his and she let out a soft moan, he had to keep a tight leash on his self-control.
Take it slowly … don’t frighten her.
He felt her hands upon his chest then, exploring its breadth. He wore a leather vest with a black léine underneath, and when one of her hands passed over his heart, he was sure she’d be able to feel it pounding against her palm.
Gently, Leanna bit his bottom lip.
Lust slammed into Ross, hot and aching, and with a moan of his own, he hauled her onto his lap, so that she now sat astride him. It was no good—when she did things like that, he couldn’t think straight.
His kisses deepened now, as his hands slid down her back to her buttocks. It was difficult to feel her contours under all the layers of clothing she wore. It appeared that the habit was merely the top layer—and underneath there were other skirts and tunics—all designed to protect a nun’s modesty no doubt.
But there was no modesty to this lass. She pressed her high, round breasts against the wall of his chest and wriggled against his groin, her moans of pleasure intensifying as the kissing drew out.
And then she began to unlace his vest.
Breathing hard, Ross broke off the kiss and leaned back, allowing her to complete her task. He then raised his arms so that she could strip off his léine.
Naked to the waist, he closed his eyes as her hands explored the planes of his chest. He could hear the excited catch of her breath, and felt the slight tremble in the fingers that slid over his skin.
He could hardly bear it.
