Page 52 of Highlander of Steel
“I daenae think enterin’ yer chamber that night was an accident,” Killian said in a husky voice.
“What do ye mean?” Ailis asked breathily, her heart racing.
He leaned in to kiss her, his hand gripping her thigh. “I think I was guided to ye,” he murmured, scooping her closer with his other hand. “I think ye were always meant to be a MacNairn. A Lennox.”
Lost in the slow burn of his kiss and the security of his embrace, she couldn’t muster a single argument. All of her suspicions and doubts were swept away, disappearing in the fog of desire that had rolled in at the press of his lips.
She closed her eyes and tilted her head back as his kisses wandered southward, charting a course down her throat and along the slope of her collarbone. As if he were a seasoned sailor who knew exactly how to navigate her through still waters and stormy tides.
In truth, he also seemed to know how to turn still waters into storms, like the one that began to rise within her as his mouth moved lower.
In one impressive maneuver, he grasped the hem of her borrowed shirt and pulled it up. Her arms rose for him, entirely unselfconscious for the first time in her life as he tossed the garment to the cave floor and immediately pulled her in.
Rather, he didn’t give her the chance to be self-conscious. His kisses savored her, his tongue tasting her tingling skin, exploring her with stirring admiration, leaving no part of her unattended. The worship of a man who, though it seemed ludicrous, seemed to want her. Not for revenge or to win a war or to stir up trouble, but just because he wanted her.
“Oh, Killian… Oh!” she cried out as his lips closed around her nipple.
He drew the erect flesh into his mouth and sucked, the intense pull somehow tugging at an invisible string within her that vibrated all the way down between her thighs. She gasped, grasping for his arm, while her other hand held the back of his head, needing more.
When he sucked again, it was clear that he had taken control of her entire being… and she didn’t mind one bit. Her hips bucked at his bidding, her back arching, a breathy moan rising with the woodsmoke toward the dark ceiling of the cavern.
And I wanted to stay as far away from him as possible. I told him I didnae want to be touched.
She could have laughed at the idiocy of that command, and was almost grateful that she had run away from her bedchamber. Otherwise, she might never have experienced this.
He released the delicious tension around her nipple, flicking his tongue against the hard flesh, before he resumed a path that only he seemed to know.
But the air had shifted inside the cave, thickening. His kisses, too, had transformed into something… more. The moment she had felt that crackling wave rushing downward, his kiss and his touch had become more heated.
Each graze of his lips had her shivering in the most delicious way, each light stroke of his tongue coaxing a gasp from her, each grip of his hand or brush of his fingertips like striking flint, igniting a flurry of exquisite sparks.
Then, with one arm around her, he rested his palm on the valley between her bare breasts and gently pushed her down. A slow descent, his arm ensuring that she wouldn’t fall, until she lay on the fleece and the blankets that covered the flat rock.
“It’s nae yet our weddin’ night,” he purred, “but that doesnae mean I cannae show ye what it means to be me bride.”
She was about to ask what he meant when his mouth returned to her skin, kissing the rise of her stomach. Still kneeling, he hovered his upper body over her as he explored and worshiped and appreciated every contour, every speck, every curve.
Ailis doubted there was a more stirring sight than that of her future husband absorbed in pleasuring her. The firelight haloed his warrior physique, his broad shoulders even more impressive, his arms and chest flexing with raw power. Yet his effort was not focused on fighting, but on something far more pleasant.
She was just enjoying the sensation of his hand running down her thigh, and the way he closed his eyes when his lips brushed against her skin, when he suddenly lowered his head between her thighs.
The first stroke of his tongue was an all-consuming reminder that he was the one in control of her body. Shewashis; she just hadn’t realized it fully until that moment. How could she be anyone else’s when the roll of his tongue could make her back arch up off the rock, her hands grasping at the fleece beneath her?
“Oh, Killian! Oh… oh, God!” she cried out, the sound echoing off the cave walls, drowning out the rhythm of the waves crashing against the cliffs outside.
He tasted her again in a teasing stroke, his tongue igniting a frenzy of sparks that shivered up from a part of her she had never known existed. A bundle of nerves, so sensitive that she had to wonder how she had never known of its existence.
Had he created it? It didn’t seem likely, but he had certainly revealed it to her.
“Aye, Killian… Oh… oh, aye… oh…” She writhed on the soft fleece, raking her nails across the fibers, her body more alive than it had ever been.
She gasped as he slipped his arms beneath her thighs, pushed them back, and pulled her closer to his talented tongue. Burying his face between her thighs so he could taste her at his leisure, lavishing her with measured strokes that had her bucking in his grip.
And when he curled his tongue around that bundle of nerves and sucked gently, she thought she might take leave of her senses altogether. Her head pounded with the rush of so much bliss, every nerve singing with pleasure, her breath coming in sawing, desperate gasps, her heart beating so hard that she feared it would never slow again.
She couldn’t helpbut thrash and writhe, as if she were in a wild dance with him, her body responding instinctively, primally to the swirls of his tongue.
“Killian… oh… oh, God… aye, Killian…” she panted as he found the stormy waters he had been charting a course toward.
