Page 63 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. The silence between them was heavy, full of every word unspoken.
Abigail gasped when he raised his hand to her cheek, his rough palm brushing her skin with the tenderness of a man trying to be gentle, even when everything about him was wild.
“Let me change yer mind, Abigail,” he insisted, his voice thick with emotion. “Just… let me try.”
Before she could answer, his mouth claimed hers again, and she let out another gasp.
The kiss was nothing like the one before—this one was deeper, hungrier, full of need and tenderness. His lips moved against hers with aching slowness at first, like he meant to memorize the shape of her, then with a sudden urgency that made her knees tremble.
She reached for him instinctively, pressing her palms to his hard chest, feeling the heat of him through the thin fabric of his shirt.
He sucked in a sharp breath at her touch. He was solid beneath her hands, all strength and restraint, as though he were holding back something fierce for her sake.
“Kian,” she breathed into his mouth, her lips brushing his, “ye cannae just kiss sense into me.”
He pulled back just enough to look at her, a crooked smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Then I’ll try more than a kiss.”
She gasped as his large hand moved to her bosom, touching her through the thin fabric of her chemise.
“I’ve longed to touch ye here. Always spillin’ out of yer dress, making me hungry for ye,” he groaned against her neck.
Abigail was stunned. She had been ashamed by how much she spilled out of the borrowed gowns that did not fit her curvy figure. Yet, turned out they had made Kian lust after her.
The thought gave her relief. It made her feel desirable.
His hands massaged and kneaded her breasts, and her skin came alive under his touch.
“Dinnae tell me it’s nae workin’,” he murmured.
She closed her eyes, the scent of him—smoke, leather, and something uniquely him—wrapping around her like a cloak.
“It’s… It’s nae,” she lied, her voice barely above a whisper.
But her fingers remained splayed against his chest, holding him there, grounding herself in the feel of him.
“Then I’ll try harder,” he groaned.
His hand slid down her belly until it rested between her thighs.
“Oh!” she exclaimed.
A man had never touched her there before.
Heat rapidly gathered between her legs, and a shiver ran up her spine.
“That’s it, bunny. Dinnae be afraid. It’s just me hand, wantin’ to pleasure ye. Surrender to it,” he coaxed.
She felt one finger slide up and down over her chemise, pressing on her sweet petal.
He kissed her again, slower this time, coaxing instead of conquering. Her lips parted beneath his, and a sigh escaped her as his tongue met hers, igniting something molten deep inside.
Without a word, she opened her legs wider.
Kian groaned at the invitation.
Why am I unable to stop meself?
He stopped stroking her long enough to pull her chemise over her legs and move his hand to her honeypot, resuming his ministrations.
