Page 78 of The Scot's Perfect Match
“Then ye’d better kiss me,” she whispered, her voice unsteady.
And Gavan did.
It wasn’t careful, not this time. It was hungry, aching, making her knees go weak and her fingers clutch at his shoulders. His hands slid up her back, pulling her closer until there was no space between them, the taste of him dizzying, like wine and promises she’d never known she wanted until this moment.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, she laughed, a soft, giddy sound she couldn’t hold in. “Ye take my breath away, husband.”
His answering smile was wicked and tender all at once. “I hope so.”
The night stretched before them, full of possibility, and for the first time in her life, Ava wanted nothing more than to be ravaged by the man who had once been her greatest frustration and had somehow become her perfect match.
They didn’t go back inside right away.
For a long moment, they stood on the balcony, the night air cool against their flushed skin, foreheads pressed together as though the world could not intrude. But eventually, Gavan took her hand, not with ceremony, but with the quiet, steady certainty that had always been his way, and led her back into the castle.
Her heart thundered as they crossed the threshold of the bedchamber. This wasn’t the soft glow of candlelit waltzes or teasing glances over a crowded room. This was real. Just the two of them. No crowd. No masks.
He closed the door with a quiet finality and turned back to her. For a moment, neither of them moved. He simply watched her with a hunger in his eyes that matched the desire flooding her veins.
“Ava.” Her name on his tongue was low, gravelly. He crooked his finger at her, a slight hitch of sensual promise in his smile.
Ava stepped toward him, fingers brushing the lapel of his coat, and leaned up on tiptoe, ready for more than just a kiss this time.
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, deep and raw. She answered in kind, meeting him with all the longing she’d kept buried for years.
Her hands slid to his shoulders, then lower, fingers tugging at the knot of his cravat, breathing in his spicy scent. Gavan stood still as she undid him piece by piece, the cravat, the coat, the waistcoat, each layer discarded until she could finally feel the warmth of him through his linen shirt.
When his hands dropped to her waist, gathering the fabric of her gown, she gasped in surprise and delight, “Gavan?—”
“Do ye want me to stop?” he murmured against her mouth.
She shook her head, breathless. “Nay, dinna ye dare.”
His answering growl vibrated through her as his hands skimmed up her sides, deftly finding the hidden fastenings of her gown. He took his time, easing her out of the silk until it puddled at her feet, leaving her in nothing but her shift and corset.
“Ye’re… beautiful,” he said, the word almost reverent.
She laughed softly, nerves skittering through her like sparks. “Ye’ve seen me in dozens of gowns and yet it is my state of undress that has ye speechless?”
Gavan grinned, tracing the edge of her stays with his thumb. “I think I should like ye to remain undressed forever.”
Her pulse kicked at the possessive note in his voice, her skin prickling as she tugged at the laces of her corset, suddenly wanting more than anything to be fully nude with her husband.
“Let me,” he said quietly.
She nodded, raising her arms as he loosened the garment, careful even in his hunger. When at last it fell away, cool air soothed her bare, heated skin, and then his hands, warm and steady, grounded her in the storm of sensation.
“Gavan,” she whispered, not sure if it was a plea.
He kissed her again, slower this time, his hands roaming with deliberate care, as if mapping every inch of her. When they reached the bed, he eased her down onto the soft linens, bracing himself above her.
For a moment, he just looked at her, his dark eyes drinking her in. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he said hoarsely.
“So have I,” she admitted, her hand sliding up his neck, tangling in his hair.
At that, the last of his restraint shattered.
He kissed her like a man starved, like every moment they’d wasted apart had been leading to this one. She arched against him, gasping at the feel of his body pressing her down into the mattress, the solid weight of him a reassurance she hadn’t known she craved.
