Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The fire was now fully caught, casting amber light across the room, and Ava stood in front of it.
I should be more afraid of this than I am.
She wasn’t scared, which was the odd part. She had expected to feel fear.
The old, familiar kind, the kind that lived in her chest like a lodger who’d overstayed. And instead there was only this: the warmth of the room and Noah watching her from across it and the realisation, arriving quietly and without fanfare, that she trusted him.
Which was its own kind of terrifying, if she thought about it.
“Ye’re very far away,” Noah said.
“I’m three feet away.”
“For ye that’s far.” He moved toward her slowly, unhurriedly, the way he always did, as if he had all the time in the world and had chosen to use it. “What are ye thinkin’?”
“I’m thinkin’ that this is still a terrible idea.”
“Ye’ve said that.”
“It bears repeatin’.”
He stopped close. Not touching yet, just close. The way he’d been in the corridor, near enough that she could feel the warmth of him.
“What else?” he said.
“I’m thinkin’ that I daenae ken how to do this.” She stopped. Started again. “I’m nae very experienced with,” She waved a hand vaguely. “This.”
Something in his expression softened. “I ken.”
“I’m nae sayin’ that to be annoyin’ about it, I’m just...” She pressed her lips together. “I daenae want to be…”
Embarrassing.
She couldn’t quite say it.
“Ava.” He said her name quietly. “Look at me.”
She looked at him.
“There’s nothin’ ye could do that would be wrong. Do ye understand?”
She held his gaze. Something in her chest loosened.
“That’s easy to say,” she said.
“It’s also true.” He lifted one hand and brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. That same gesture—always that same gesture—made her go still every time, no matter how much she braced for it. It was as if he did it unconsciously, as if he planned for it.
“We go as slow as ye like. We stop when ye say stop. And if ye want to change yer mind entirely and go back to yer own chambers, I’ll walk ye there meself.”
She looked at him for a long moment. “Ye’d do that?”
“Without argument.”
“That might be the most attractive thing ye’ve ever said to me.”
The corner of his mouth moved. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
She reached up and placed her hand flat against his chest, not pressing down. Just resting there, feeling the steady beat of his heart under her palm.
“I daenae want to stop,” she said.
He covered her hand with his.
He kissed her, and this time there was nothing tentative about it.
She kissed him back with both hands on his shirt, and he slowly walked her backward until she felt the edge of the bed against the backs of her knees. She sat down on it and looked up at him standing over her, and it should have felt unequal, that angle, but it didn’t.
“Still all right?” he said.
“Ask me that one more time, and I’ll make ye sleep in the corridor.”
He laughed genuinely, low and surprised. She felt it in her chest—the sound and how it transformed his entire face. She hadn’t heard him laugh like that before. Truly.
It was a good sound.
“Noted,” he said, and came down to sit beside her.
She turned toward him and properly got her hands into his shirt, untucking it. Her fingers found warm skin at his waist, and she heard his breath change.
“
He eased her back against the pillows, and she let him, looking up at him as he leaned over her, his weight on one forearm beside her head.
“Ye’re starin’,” she said.
“Aye.” He didn’t stop.
“It’s disconcertin’.”
“Ye’re in me bed,” he said. “I intend to look.”
Her face warmed, which she thought was ridiculous given the circumstances. She looked at the ceiling instead, which made him let out a low sound that might have been amusement.
“Ye can look at me too,” he said. “If ye like.”
She looked back at him.
He was watching her with that particular steadiness, the kind that made her feel like she was being truly seen—not judged or measured, just seen. It stirred something in her chest, causing her to relax.
“I like the way ye are right now,” she said.
“Hmmm…”
“It’s,” She considered the word. “Nice. Actually.”
“High praise.”
“Daenae push it.”
He smiled, a near-smile that lingered at the corner of his mouth. Then his lips moved to her jaw, her throat, and the spot below her ear that he’d early on found to produce the most interesting results.
She was not going to make that sound again.
She made the sound.
“That,” he said against her skin. “Is never goin’ to stop being satisfyin’.”
“Ye’re smug about this.”
“A little.”
“It’s annoyin’.”
“Mmhm.” He pressed his lips to her collarbone, her shoulder, the line of her throat. “Tell me if anythin’ is...”
“Noah.”
“Aye?”
“Stop askin’.”
“Right.”
He pulled back far enough to look at her. Calmly, he examined her face as he did everything else, with the full and slightly unsettling focus of a man who had decided she was worth his patience.
Then, apparently satisfied with whatever he found, he continued.
Ava’s breath came in shallow gasps as Noah kissed every part of her, his body a furnace against hers, his hands already claiming what he’d been denied for too long.
She could sense the desperation in him, not just lust but something darker, bordering on worship. His obsession had always been a living force between them, a current that pulled them under each time they touched.
His mouth crashed against hers before she could even draw another breath, his tongue forcing its way past her lips with a hunger that made her knees weak. She moaned into him, her fingers digging into the rough wool of his tunic, pulling him closer as if she could merge their bodies right there.
He tasted of dram and smoke, of the wild Highland air that clung to him even indoors, and she drank him in like she’d been starving. His teeth grazed her lower lip, sharp enough to sting, and she gasped, her back arching as he took advantage, deepening the kiss until she was dizzy with it.
His hands were all over her. One tangled in her hair, pulling just enough to tilt her head back, while the other slid down her side to grip her hip with bruising force.
“Ye’ve been torturin’ me, lass,” he growled against her mouth, his voice rough with need. “Every damn day, walkin’ past me like ye daenae ken what it does to me.”
His accent thickened when he was like this, the words rolling off his tongue like a promise and a threat all at once.
Ava laughed breathlessly, her fingers tracing the hard line of his jaw before slipping lower, over the pulse hammering in his throat. She loved when he was like this, unraveling, barely leashed.
“And what does it do to ye, Noah?” she taunted, her voice a husky tease. “Tell me.”
She rocked her hips against him, feeling the rigid length of him through his kilt, and his breath hitched, his grip on her tightening.
His answer was a snarl, and his mouth crashed down on hers again as he spun her around, pressing her back against the wall.
The stone was cold against the thin fabric of her gown, but she barely noticed. All she felt was his heat, how his body imprisoned hers, his thighs spreading hers apart.
His hands slid up her skirts, calloused palms rough against her skin, and she shuddered as his fingers found the lace of her drawers. He didn’t bother with finesse; he tore them aside, the sound of fabric ripping lost beneath her sharp inhale.
“Feck, Ava,” he groaned, his breath hot against her neck as his fingers finally found her, slick and swollen with need. “Ye’re already soakin’ for me.”
Two thick fingers slid through her folds, parting her with deliberate slowness, and she whimpered, her nails raking down his chest. He circled her clit, teasing, his touch maddeningly light for a man who looked like he wanted to devour her whole.
“Noah, please,” she begged, her voice breaking.
She needed more, needed him, and he knew it. His chuckle was dark, triumphant, as he dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands gripping her thighs hard enough to leave marks.
The sight of him there, between her legs, his dark hair tousled, his beard already glistening with the promise of what was to come, made her pulse spike.
“Beggin’ already?” he murmured, his breath ghosting over her damp heat. “I’ve barely touched ye.” His tongue flicked out, just the barest taste, and her legs trembled. “But I ken what ye want.”
And then his mouth was on her, open and hungry, his tongue dragging through her folds in one long, slow lick that made her cry out.
He didn’t let up, not when her fingers tangled in his hair, not when her hips jerked against his face, not when her thighs clenched around his head.
He feasted on her like a man starved, his beard scratching the tender skin of her inner thighs, his groans vibrating against her as he lapped at her entrance, then sucked her clit between his lips.
“Oh gods, Noah.” Her voice was a broken whisper, her body coiling tight, every nerve alight.
He hummed in response.
The sound sent another jolt of pleasure through her, and then his fingers were inside her, curling just right as his tongue worked her in relentless, swirling strokes.
She could feel her orgasm building, like a storm just beyond the horizon, and she clenched around his fingers, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
“That’s it, love,” he murmured against her, his voice rough with lust. “Come on me tongue like a good lass.”
His free hand slid up, his thumb pressing against her clit as his fingers pumped into her, and that was all it took.
The pleasure washed over her, intense and consuming, her back arched as she cried out, her release spilling onto his tongue. He didn’t stop, licking her through it, intensifying every shudder until she was boneless, her legs trembling, her chest heaving.
Only then did he pull back. His lips glistened, his eyes dark with satisfaction, and something else—something fiercer.
He stood in one fluid motion, his hands going to his kilt, and he removed it with hurried movements. His manhood sprang free, thick and flushed, the tip already weeping, and Ava’s mouth watered.
She dropped to her knees in front of him before he could even finish kicking off his boots, her hands gripping the base of him, her thumb brushing over the slick crown.
“Yer turn,” she purred, looking up at him through her lashes.
His breath hitched as she leaned in, her tongue flicking out to taste him.
He groaned, his hands flying to her hair, gripping tightly as she took him into her mouth, her lips stretching around his girth. She hollowed her cheeks, taking him deeper. Her tongue swirling over the underside of his manhood as she pulled back, then took him again, her throat opening for him.
“Aye, Ava, just like that.”
His voice was a guttural growl, his hips twitching, his control already fraying. She hummed around him, the vibration making him curse, his fingers tightening in her hair.
She loved the way he tasted. The musk of him, the weight of him on her tongue, the way his breath came in sharp, desperate gasps as she worked him.
She pulled back, her lips popping wetly as she stroked him, her thumb smudging the precum beading at his tip.
“Ye like that?” she teased, her voice a sultry murmur as she swirled her tongue over his crown. “Like watchin’ me take ye deep?”
His answer was a growl, his hands guiding her back to him, and this time he didn’t let her set the pace. His hips rolled, shallow at first, then deeper as she relaxed her throat, taking him all the way until her nose brushed the coarse hair at the base of his manhood.
She could feel him pulse, could taste the salt of him thickening on her tongue, and she moaned around him, her own arousal flaring anew at the way he was losing himself in her.
“I’m losin’ meself, Ava,” he warned, his voice strained, but she only tightened her lips around him, her hand cupping his balls, rolling them gently.
That was all it took.
With a ragged cry, he spilled into her mouth. His release was hot and thick, his hips jerking as she swallowed around him, milking him for every last drop. Only when he was spent did she pull back, licking her lips, her eyes fixed on his as she rose to her feet.
He didn’t give her time to catch her breath.
In one swift motion, he had her pressed against the wall again. His mouth crashed down on hers, his tongue plunging between her lips as if he could taste himself on her.
She moaned into the kiss, her body already aching for him again, then he lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist as he lined himself up. His manhood, still half-hard, thickened rapidly as he rubbed the head through her slick folds.
“I need ye,” he growled against her lips. “I need to be inside ye, Ava. Now.”
She didn’t answer with words. She rocked her hips, taking the tip of him inside, and the groan that tore from his throat was almost feral.
He surged forward, filling her with one deep stroke that made them both gasp. The burn was intense, but it was perfect; he was perfect. She held onto him as he started to move, his thrusts hard and frantic, the stone wall behind her the only thing keeping her upright.
“Ye’re mine,” he snarled, his lips against her neck, his teeth grazing her pulse. “Say it.”
“I’m yers,” she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as her body coiled tight around him. “Only yers, Noah, always.”
His rhythm faltered, his manhood swelling inside her as her words sent him over the edge. With a ragged cry, he buried himself to the hilt, his release spilling deep as her own orgasm crashed over her, her walls clenching around him, milking him as wave after wave of pleasure wrung them both dry.
They collapsed against each other, their chests heaving, their skin slick with sweat.
Noah pressed his forehead to hers, his breath warm against her lips as his cock softened inside her, his seed dripping down her thighs.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing, the flicker of the torchlight casting shadows over their tangled bodies.
And then he whispered her name.
“Ava.”
Like a prayer, like a vow, like the only word he would ever need.