Page 66 of A Dash of Scot
Dougal stroked a sizzling path with the backs of his fingers up her arms, singeing her skin through the fabric of her gown.
He gently massaged her shoulders, her back, the sides of her ribs. And then the moment she’d been waiting for: his fingers brushed the undersides of her breasts. If she’d had the strength to do it, she would rip this bloody wedding gown from her body. The fantasy of touching her bare skin to his was real. So very real.
Her nipples hardened into taut, aching buds that begged for his touch, but he didn’t go near them. Instead, he drove her mad by stroking everywhere else. Dougal was good at teasing…too good. They’d barely gotten into their room, this being only their second kiss as a wedded couple—and really, the brief kiss at the altar was nothing compared to this—and already she was melting in a puddle of desire and need.
The need to touch skin to skin was overwhelming.
Poppy gently broke their kiss and took a step back. Dougal looked puzzled at first, but then she smiled and turned around, peeking at him over her shoulder.
“Unbutton me, husband.”
Dougal’s eyes widened, then grew heavy. His chest rose and fell as he drew in and let out a deep breath, nearly a low whistle.
In less than a heartbeat, Dougal closed the distance between them. His fingers, steadier than her own, plucked at the buttons along her spine until her dress was fully undone.
Poppy slid a hand under the fabric at her shoulder and peeled it down her arm, but before she could reach the other side, Dougal saw to it; the scrape of his calloused palm on her bare shoulder sent shivers rushing through her.
The gown fell to her feet, and she kicked it aside in a pool of fabric. Then she turned back around, still dressed in her thin chemise. Dougal raked his eyes over her, and she realized, as she never had before, how threadbare it was, that her hardened nipples pressed against the fabric, each rosy circle visible. Dougal swallowed hard enough for her to hear, his gaze riveted to the spot. Poppy’s breath quickened, and she grew suddenly bolder, arching her back slightly as she took hold of the ribbons at the center of her chest.
“Wait,” Dougal said, his voice low and gravelly. “Allow me to do it.”
Poppy stilled her fingers, and he took her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles as his other hand took hold of the ribbons between his thumb and forefinger. He tugged unhurriedly, the sound of the silky ribbons swishing as they loosened echoing in the bedroom.
Heart pounding, skin prickling with anticipation, Poppy found it hard to draw a breath. Her chemise fell apart nearly to her navel, exposing the expanse of her breasts and her abdomen. The cool air made her nipples even harder, but there was no mistaking that the tingling she felt was from Dougal’s gaze and the desire for his touch.
“Ye’re even more beautiful than I imagined,” he said.
His compliment gave her confidence, and she dipped one shoulder and then the other until the fabric slipped away, whispering down her legs to her ankles, leaving her fully naked.
Dougal sucked in a ragged breath, then reached for her, running his fingers
from her cheek down to the dip in her throat, then lower through the valley of her breasts until he stopped at her navel.
Her skin pebbled everywhere he touched, and she shivered.
“Saints,” he said under his breath.
“Touch me more.” The demand was out before she could pull it back—before she’ realized what she had said.
“As ye wish, my love.” He leaned forward and pressed his warm lips to her collarbone, leaving a trail of heat as he slipped his lips along the length of that bone, over her chest, and then down between her breasts. His hands followed the same path until he was cupping her breasts, his hot breath on her skin.
“Please,” she whimpered, desperately wanting him to touch his tongue to her nipple.
Dougal didn’t disappoint, flicking his tongue out to taste and devouring her. She sighed, then moaned, her fingers finding an anchor in his shoulders so she didn’t fall over from the exquisite torment of his deliciously wicked tongue. Though she protested, he kissed his way back up to her mouth, making her eager for more—of everything.
Dougal pulled her taut against him, hands wrapped around her waist, and claimed her mouth in a heated, possessive kiss. His scent surrounded her in a cloud of spicy maleness. Intoxicating.
All the gentleness of before was gone, replaced by something feral, primal. Their tongues melded and stroked in a frenzy as if, at any moment, they might wake from a dream, and neither of them wanted to miss a moment.
Poppy gripped the buttons of his jacket, tugging them free, hearing the distinct plink of one of them hitting the floor.
Oops…
Dougal tore his jacket from his body, his mouth still on hers, and then his shirt, which meant he did have to break away, but only for a second. And when he had tossed the fabric aside, Poppy splayed her hands on the bare, hard muscles surrounding his spine, then wrapped her arms around to his chest. He was warm, brawny—pure strength.
She stared in awe at the beautiful formation of his body. So different from her own. So masculine. Something inside her sparked, igniting into a frenzied fire. When she glanced up at him, Dougal’s eyes matched her passion. He claimed her mouth once more with thrilling force. The power and passion behind his kiss made her tremble and soar at the same time.
She crushed her breasts to his chest, feeling the spark of lightning at the clash. Exhilarating to finally touch so intimately. They explored each other with frenzied hands, hungry to know every plane and divot. Anticipation and excitement filled her, consumed her. Dougal knew how to touch her to make her sigh and moan. Every caress, every kiss, had her feeling boneless, breathless.
