Page 64 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
“Mm, lass. Ye are sweetness itself,” he said.
She gripped his shirt tighter, the fabric crumpling in her fists.
He groaned softly at her response. “Ye’re makin’ it impossible for me to stop.”
“Why must ye do this?” she whispered breathlessly, throwing her head back.
“I’m only showin’ ye the truth,” he whispered, his lips grazing her jaw.
“And what is the truth?” she moaned.
“That ye want me just as badly as I want ye.”
She tried to protest, but he kissed the corner of her mouth, then her neck, and her words faded into a gasp.
“Tell me ye feel nothin’, and I’ll stop,” he murmured.
Her body trembled, caught between desire and duty, between the pull of her heart and her duty to her family.
“Ye’re nae fair, Kian Wright,” she said, her breath hitching as he kissed down to the hollow at the base of her throat. “Ye ken I cannae think straight when ye do this.”
He chuckled against her skin, and the sound sent a shiver down her spine.
“Then stop thinkin’, lass.” He lifted his head to meet her eyes. “Just feel. Just be here, with me.”
His hand moved faster, sliding gently but firmly against her sweet center, and she didn’t resist.
Her hands slid up his chest to his shoulders, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. She pressed her lips to his, unable to hold back, pouring her longing and confusion into the kiss.
He responded with a groan, deepening the kiss as his finger moved to her bud.
“Oh, Kian!” she cried.
“That’s how it should feel, bunny. Just let go, surrender to me, and I will bring ye to the edge of bliss,” he urged.
“But… but this doesnae change what ye did,” she insisted, though her voice was softer now, laced with something dangerous. “Ye still took me from?—”
“Aye, and that means ye are mine. I kidnapped ye, but marryin’ me doesnae have to be a bad thing. It could be a choice—yers.”
Abigail studied him, her hands still on his shoulders, the weight of his words crashing over her like a wave. But her body was betraying her mind as the pulsing between her thighs grew.
He isnae askin’ out of pride or strategy now. Is he askin’ for me trust, or for me heart?
And despite every reason not to, a traitorous part of her wanted to give it.
“Lettin’ ye touch me like this is a terrible idea,” she moaned, feeling like she was teetering on the edge of a cliff.
“Then why do ye keep lettin’ me doin’ it, bunny?” he asked with a teasing smirk.
“Because, because… oh, Kian. Something’s happenin’ to me,” she gasped.
His movements were slow and teasing, making her toes curl and her head spin.
“Ye drive me mad,” he rasped.
Suddenly, she shuddered and let out a loud moan that echoed through the dimly lit room. Pleasure exploded deep in her belly, and she writhed on the bench.
“That’s it. That’s it, lass, come on me hand. Ye’re mine. Nay one will ever touch ye like this, or they will die.”
