Page 117 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
“Besides, yearedainty… fierce as a hawk, but dainty all the same.”
His hands traced down her sides as he slowly backed her up toward the bed.
“But I can be gentle, if that’s what ye need tonight.”
Abigail’s smile faltered, but only for a moment, as desire flickered in her gaze.
“What I need,” she whispered, “isye, just as ye are.”
She reached up, brushing her lips against his in a kiss that deepened quickly, heated and hungry. Her hands found the hem of his shirt, tugging it from beneath the waistband of his kilt.
Kian’s laugh was a low rumble in his chest as he helped her, holding her eyes all the while.
“Impatient, wee thing,” he murmured, brushing her hair from her face. “Have I told ye how beautiful ye look tonight?”
Abigail’s breath caught as his fingers brushed the laces of her gown. Her hands trembled slightly, her heart thudding like a drum in her chest.
She turned her face away, her cheeks burning. “Maybe ye’ll change yer mind once ye see me,” she whispered.
Kian paused, his hands gentle on her waist. “Change me mind?” he echoed, furrowing his brow. “Abigail, there’s nae a single thing I want more in this world than ye.”
“I’m nae like those thin lasses,” she said. “I’m too soft, too round. I ken what folk say.”
He stepped closer, his hands cupping her face, his thumbs brushing her flushed cheeks. “Aye, ye’re soft, just the way I like it,” he said, his voice low and rough. “And yer curves were made to be touched, to be kissed, to becherished.”
She closed her eyes, a shiver running through her as he slowly untied the last lace of her bodice. “Let me show ye what I see.”
The gown slipped from her shoulders with a gentle whisper, pooling at her feet. Cool air met warm skin, and her skin prickled in response, her nerves alight.
She stood in her chemise, her arms crossing instinctively over her middle, but Kian stopped her with a look.
“Dinnae hide from me, bunny,” he said softly.
He ran his knuckles down her arms. Heat rose where his fingers touched, as though her skin had come alive. Her breath hitched as he leaned in, brushing his lips along her collarbone like a vow.
“Ye’re beautiful,” he murmured, pressing a kiss just above her heart.
Abigail’s eyes locked onto his, and something inside her quieted.
He wasn’t looking at her body with judgment, but with awe, hunger, and love. For the first time in her life, she believed she was enough.
“Ye dinnae need to be afraid, lass,” Kian added, his voice rough like gravel smoothed by rain. “I’ll nae rush ye.” His hand came up, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, his thumb lingering on her cheek. “But I’ve wanted this—yefor so long.”
Her breath caught as he leaned in, and the world narrowed to the press of lips against hers. His kiss was gentle at first, coaxing her to respond, and when she did, it deepened with hunger.
Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer—needinghim closer—and she let out a breathy moan.
He groaned softly against her mouth.
“Abigail,” he breathed, tasting her name like a forbidden fruit. “Ye have nay idea what ye do to me.”
His hands moved to her waist and slid around her hips, his thumbs brushing the twin dimples at the small of her back.
She felt his touch through the thin fabric of her chemise, and gooseflesh broke over her skin. His covered manhood rubbed against her thigh, making her eyes widen.
“Kian,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “Touch me, everywhere.”
The words came unbidden, shocking in their boldness, but she meant every one of them.
