Page 36 of An Allusive Love
Breathe! It’s the moment ye’ve been waiting for ye all yer life.
She heard the softchinkof his sporran chain as he changed position. He picked up her hand and pressed his lips to her fingers. “Be my wife, Kirsty MacDunn, and keep me honest with yer frankness and a horde of bairns.”
When Kirsty opened her eyes, he was on his knees. Sincerity glistened in his sapphire orbs. Her throat grew thick, emotion bubbling up, a tremulous smile curving her lips.Ye canna cry now, ye ninny,her brain scolded.Kiss him and say yes.
“Aye, Brodie MacNaughton, I’ll be yer wife and keep ye honest and give ye a castle full of bairns.” She threw her arms around his neck, laughing and crying.
He sat back and pulled her onto his lap. “My heart is lighter already. But dinna tell my mother or sister they ken better than me.”
He kissed her on the forehead, then as if he couldn’t bear to pull away, he peppered her face with his lips. He pressed her lids close, the tip of her nose, her chin, then claimed her mouth again.
Kirstine’s hands explored his hard chest, tracking the ridges of his stomach through his shirt. He sucked in his breath and she smiled against his mouth with her growing power over him. Over the past months, she’d learned what made the vein in his neck pound with desire, how to trace his spine or collarbone lightly with her fingertips.
She was betrothed. She was truly his. The notion made her bold, and she tugged his shirt free from the kilt and touched her palm to his warm, bare skin. She could feel his heartbeat. Her fingers slipped under the band of his kilt, stroked the wiry curls beneath. His manhood stiffened and pushed against her thigh.
“For the love of saints,” he rasped, “I’m only a mon. A mon who’s been denied for months.”
“I’m no’ denying ye,” she blurted.
In a blink, she was on her back, Brodie feathering kisses down her neck. Kirstine had dreamt of this moment; his tender gaze locked with hers, his mouth and hands strumming her like his favorite instrument. Her breasts were suddenly free, and she gasped as he took one pink tip, then the other, into his mouth. The flame in her belly grew with every swipe of his tongue, his teeth and mouth pulling, teasing the nipples into hard buds.
His palm cupped her mound, and even through the skirt, the pulse between her legs turned into a delicious ache. He pulled the light wool and shift to her thighs, one finger at a time, and slid his hand beneath the layers of material. His stroke was light against her soft inner thighs, and her breath hitched.
When his knuckle rubbed her slick heat, he found her nub and circled it with his thumb. The pounding of her heart reverberated through her core, heat enveloping her body. Her hips rose in answer to this new and intimate touch. A finger, then two, slid into her passage and began a seesaw of back and forth, creating a liquid heat with the sweet friction. Kirstine whimpered, and he kissed her, the sound locked between them. She clutched the plaid under her, fingertips digging into the wool and soft soil beneath while a merciless inferno raged through her. And she wanted more—something more. She locked her gaze with his, the turbulent blue orbs intent but smiling.
He nuzzled her neck. “Should I stop?” he murmured.
Kirstine shook her head.
Brodie’s weight shifted to her side, and his lips reclaimed her breasts. He sucked and nipped the swollen tips as his fingers continued their onslaught, slipping in… and out… in… and out of her quivering passage. She moved her hips in rhythm to his thrusts; his thumb caressed her nub in slow, deliberate circles until he coaxed it into a hard pearl.
Kirstine closed her eyes, another husky moan escaping her throat. Her hips jerked up, her breath quick and shallow as his hands and mouth brought her to the edge of heaven. Frustration and pleasure and satisfaction battled within her womanhood, finally coming together as she let out a keening sob. An intense pleasure stirred low in her mons and spread through her like a slow summer storm. It twisted and swelled until she thought she might die from the force of it.
“Brodie,” she gasped.
“Let go, love,” he whispered in her ear. “Give in to the blaze, let the passion take ye.”
Then his mouth was on hers, his tongue traced her lips, and Kirstine surrendered. Let the spiral of heat break into waves of ecstasy that rippled through every corner of her body. Her muscles spasmed around his fingers, and he plunged faster and faster until she arched and cried out his name.
Slowly, the fog lifted. She could hear the chirp of birds again, Brodie breathing, her own panting, and Charlie’s soft growl. Kirstine smiled.
“Ye’re so beautiful when ye’re in the throes of passion,” Brodie said, his tone husky as his eyes trailed up and down her body. His thumb moved lightly between her folds, and he smiled at the light tremors still shuddering through her at his touch.
She lay there panting, in a daze, wondering how her legs would ever hold her up again.Merciful heavens!Her limbs had grown heavy as tree trunks, and she could easily take a nap. The hound rumbled again.Shhhh, she soothed.
The idea came to her that they were not finished. Brodie had not entered her. Kirstine held up her arms. “Come inside me, Brodie.”
He shook his head. “I’ll no’ take yer virginity here under the pines. It will be a proper ravaging in a bed.” He eased down next to her, elbow to the ground, head resting on his palm.
“So this was not a ravaging?” She wondered what could possibly be better.
“This was just a taste, love. There’s so much more to come.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand and leaned down to kiss her. “I’m of the opinion we should jump the broom sooner than later.”
Kirstine sighed, her fingers still trembling as she pushed a thick lock of midnight hair from his forehead. “Whatever ye say, Brodie.”
“Weel, I always said a satiated female is a compliant female.”
“I think ye’re right.” Could she makehisinsides quake? Make him cry out her name? “How do I return the favor?”
