The Promise (Highland Lairds of the Crest #4)

The Prophecy

Excerpt from Book I of the Highland Lairds of the Crest Series

The dream was always the same.

Gwen pressed deeper into the warm embrace, sighing as strong arms tightened around her. She rubbed her face in the crook of his neck, running her hand over the solid mass of back and shoulders until her fingers tangled in thick, soft hair. Large powerful hands followed her movements, pressing her closer as he cupped the back of her head and gently tilted her face.

She never felt his hesitation before. Tonight she did. She tugged on his hair, a silent demand to be kissed. Then he covered her lips, completely sealing them within his own. A deep sound rumbled through his chest.

This dream was different.

She felt the warmth of his lips and the pressure of his hands, the texture of his hair and the heat of skin. She heard sounds given and returned.

It seemed so real.

His thumb coaxed her chin, and her lips parted as he moved between them. He spent an eternity simply joining their mouths…in every possible way. His tongue, reverent at first, was slow to explore, then became wholly demanding.

She gave in to him completely. In truth, she kissed him back with everything she had. They shared an urgency—taking satisfaction as they’d never been able to before.

She traced her fingers over his face—his broad forehead, straight nose, high cheekbones, his smooth, strong chin—and she pulled him even closer.

My God, it had never felt so good.

She made a sound as he pulled back, a whimper he hushed with slow, passionate kisses over her forehead and cheeks. Then he covered her lips again before tucking her within the crook of his neck. “Sleep, love,” he urged in a murmur. “The morn’s but an hour away.”

Gwen burrowed against him, silent tears wetting her cheeks—oppressive longing crushing her from the inside out.

She’d never heard the sound of his voice.

It would haunt her forever.