Chapter Twenty-Three
Y e’re in my heart. A cascade of emotions swept over Amelia at Logan’s gravel-roughened confession. His words seduced her with their honest simplicity, even as the truth crashed into her like a rogue wave.
Logan wanted her. And not for only this night.
Her stomach did a little somersault.
She had longed to hear him speak these words, words that echoed the desire in her heart and made her knees wobble.
Caressing her with a light touch, his lips brushed over hers. Gentle. Undemanding. So very, very tempting.
And then, he eased his hold, releasing her. This close, she could see the charcoal-hued hairs of new beard dusting his carved jaw. He rubbed his palm against his cheek, as if he debated a question within his own mind.
Taking a tiny step back, she pulled in a low breath. Logan’s brows dipped into a frown.
“If ye think I aim to sweet talk ye into spending this night with me, ye’re mistaken.” His mouth curved in a rueful half-smile. “Yer bed is beckoning ye for a good night’s rest.”
Her heartbeat pounded in a staccato rhythm. He’d uttered the words that should send her on her way. She could simply bid Logan good night and make her way to a comfortable bed. She’d crawl beneath the covers, and sooner or later, she would fall into slumber and dream of him.
Dream of the passion she had turned away from.
Of the love that might’ve been hers.
No, she would not—could not—walk away. She could not allow a twinge of doubt to destroy this moment.
She wanted Logan. The hunger went bone deep. The need in his eyes, a desire he could not entirely hide, told her he longed for her with the same intensity.
Some thought Logan MacLain a rogue.
But she knew the truth. He was a good man—a man worth the risk of another scar on her heart.
She met his deep brown eyes. “I know you don’t want me to leave.”
“Want ye to leave?” Logan chuckled under his breath. “Lass, I am neither a fool nor a eunuch. But what I want... it’s not what’s best for ye.”
Rather presumptuous of the man. Despite the quickly doused flickers of hesitation, she was a woman who knew her own mind. She would be the judge of what was right for her.
Cocking her chin, she leveled her hands on her hips. “What’s best for me?”
“I shouldn’t have said... what I said.” He raked long fingers through his hair. “A woman like ye deserves more than a tumble between the sheets.”
She drew nearer and reached for him. Amelia studied his features for a long moment, taking in the rugged planes of his cheeks, the subtle curves of his mouth. Slowly, she traced the contours of his hand, skimming over his slightly roughened skin with a subtle touch.
“Surely you don’t believe that’s all there is between us.”
“Ye’ve been through hell, Amelia. Yer emotions are stirred up. Ye’re vulnerable. I’ve no right—”
“Vulnerable?” She pondered the word. “Perhaps. But I am not an innocent. I am a woman. A woman who knows my own mind. My own desires. My own longings.” Amelia cupped her palm against his stubble-roughened cheek. “But I have to know... is there nothing more between us than the prospect of a night in your bed?”
Passion glimmered in the depths of his gaze. “There has always been more between the two of us. And ye well know it.”
Raw feeling tinged the words, filling Amelia with joy. Logan was not a man to seduce a woman with pretty, meaningless endearments. But if she lived to be a very old woman, she would never forget the pure emotion in his husky voice.
Her fingertips skimmed over his chest, delighting in the strength of his firm, muscular body. “I know what I want.” She glided her fingers over the expanse of his collarbones, delighting in the primal response he could not disguise.
He sucked in a raw breath. “Is that so?”
“Most definitely.”
He caught her hand in his, if only to still the progress of her fingers roving over his body. “What is it that ye want, Amelia?”
“You.”
“Ah, darling lass,” he murmured, gathering her in his arms, claiming her with a kiss that betrayed the need in his soul.
He caressed her lips, as if drinking in her essence. His lean, powerful body pressed against her. Instinctively, she canted her hips, cradling the undeniable evidence of his need against her softness.
“Ah, Amelia, I could never get enough of ye.” He whispered the words against her ear, nipping playfully at her lobe, a heartbeat before his delicious mouth trailed kisses along the curve of her throat, the only area below her chin not draped in sturdy flannel and soft cotton.
With unhurried motions, he untied her dressing gown, slipping it over her shoulders until it pooled upon the floor. “I need to see ye, darling lass.” Taking a step back, his brows hiked as he surveyed her from neck to toe.
Curling a lock of her hair around his fingers, he settled his gaze on the lace-trimmed collar of her modest gown. “Ye’re sure of this, Amelia?” he asked. “Dressed as ye are, it’s clear ye do not come to me tonight with seduction on yer mind.”
“You do not find flannel alluring?” she countered playfully.
“I think I’ve already convinced ye that even draped in a flour sack, yer delectable body could tempt a man beyond all reason.” His teasing half-smile warmed her heart. “I don’t give a damn what ye’re wearing. Since the moment I first laid eyes on ye, Amelia, I’ve seen how how beautiful ye are. In every way.”
The undisguised longing in his words sent her knees to wobbling. “You do know how to make a woman feel pretty.”
“I only speak the truth.” He tipped up her chin with one finger and brushed a kiss over her lips. “Oh, sweetheart, I want to see ye.” Desire warmed his eyes. “All of ye.”
She gazed up at him. Suddenly, she no longer felt vulnerable.
She felt beautiful.
And oh-so-thoroughly adored.
Her breath caught, and she stilled. “I’d like that.”
Her words sounded throaty to her own ears, tinged with yearning. A delicious smile curved his mouth, and his clever hands went to the tiny buttons at her neck. One by one, he slowly unfastened each in turn, then pressed a kiss to the skin he’d bared to his gaze.
Still, the buttons had only exposed a few precious inches, scarcely to the curve of her breasts.
“Still too bloody much fabric,” he mused. “And not enough of ye, Amelia.”
Sliding his hands lower, he skimmed the length of her from her waist, along the length of her legs until he reached the hem. Ever so slowly, he slid the nightdress upward, his eyes intent upon her as he bared inch by inch of her body.
“So beautiful,” he whispered.
And then, he tugged the dress gently over her head and let it drift from his hands to the floor.
Cool air prickled against Amelia’s skin. She pulled in a breath to calm her rampaging pulse. Not so much as a linen chemise stood between her and his hungry eyes. She stood bared before him.
Without shame.
Without regret.
With only longing for this man who had swept into her life like a storm she’d never seen coming.
“My God, Amelia,” he breathed the words, his raw emotion passionate as a caress. “Ye’re more beautiful than I’d envisioned in my most decadent dreams.”
A sudden boldness filled her. More daring than she’d ever felt in her life, she reached for him. Savoring the contact of skin to skin, her fingers slowly swept over the expanse of his uninjured shoulder. Muscle and tendon and bone, melded into a perfection of strength. Of male power. Of male beauty.
Shoring up her courage, Amelia glided her hand lower, feathering through the crisp, dark hair on his chest, drinking in the feel of hard muscle and bone beneath her touch. She smiled to herself. When she was with Logan, she felt a delicious sense of freedom. Free to express her desires. Free to savor the texture of his skin beneath her fingertips. Free to stir his need, just as he kindled the hunger deep within her. The feelings were delightfully new, an experience of pleasure she’d never dreamed would be hers.
It wasn’t as if she was an innocent. Not in the most literal sense, at least. After all, she’d been a married woman. She’d been young and trusting then, and for a time, she’d believed she was in love with the man with whom she’d spoken her vows. When he’d pursued her as his bride, he’d been charming and attentive. Until their wedding night. He’d been cold then, utterly disinterested in her happiness. In Edward’s eyes, a good wife submitted dutifully to her husband. She was to make no demands. She was to harbor no expectations of desire or pleasure or tenderness.
She’d never truly savored the sensual beauty of a man’s body. Not until Logan charged into her life. Raising up on her toes, she brushed a kiss over his delectable mouth. How she wanted this time in his arms. Each moment seemed a delicious exploration of pleasure and desire. With this man, she would seek a joy that had once seemed the stuff of fantasy. She would give voice to her hungers. To those yearnings she’d once had to treat as deep secrets, known only to her heart.
“What is it ye want, Amelia?” he whispered. His husky voice warmed her.
“I want you,” she said truthfully. “I want to know... every inch of your body.”
“Do ye now?”
Nibbling her lower lip, she nodded. “I want to learn what pleases you.”
“Ye’re a siren, lass.” Temptation and challenge glimmered in his eyes. “And what else do ye want, my sweet?”
“I want to drive you mad.” She drew a fingertip over the angle of his jaw. “Mad for me.”
Coiling an arm around her, he brought her closer, nesting his arousal against her softness. “Love, ye’ve already mastered that art.”
She gave her head a little shake. “I want to know what brings you pleasure. I am only just beginning to learn.”
His eyes widened. The air seemed to still around them.
“I sense a challenge I don’t want to resist.”
“I do hope so,” she murmured, rising on her tiptoes to kiss him fervently.
Pressing her fingertips to his chest, she felt the steady beat of his heart. Ah, what she wouldn’t give to snuggle by his side in bed and feel that strong rhythm. Night after night. Morning after morning.
“I am yers, Amelia.” His lips feathered a caress over hers. “Tell me what ye want. What ye need.”
Slowly, she skimmed her hand over his chest, over his abdomen ridged with muscle, to the line of dark hair disappearing beneath his kilt. “I want to feel you,” she murmured, exploring his body with her touch. “I want to learn every inch of you.”
Allowing herself a sigh, she melted against him. The ridge of his arousal pressed against her, the fabric of his tartan no disguise for his need. He dipped his head, kissing her hungrily. Mingling her tongue with his, she canted her hips, savoring the feel of his masculine body pressed to hers.
If he was a rogue, it didn’t matter. Not in the least.
In that moment, all she cared about was him.
He was all she wanted.
All she needed.
She smiled to herself as he dragged in a breath, as if steadying himself against a rush of feeling, against a rush of wanting. Suddenly, her feet no longer touched the floor.
He held her in his arms and carried her to his bed. His sheets were clean and cool against her skin. He went to the lamp, but she shook her head. “I don’t want darkness. I want to see... to see you.”
“Do ye now?” A smile of pure temptation tipped the corners of his mouth as he dimmed the lamp light to a soft glow. “Yer body, my darling, is a masterpiece. But a man’s body is not a work of art.”
Leaning on one elbow, she rested her head on her hand while her gaze slowly roamed his body. “Allow me to be the judge of that.”
His grin erased any trace of hesitation. Without a hint of shyness, he met her gaze as he peeled away his kilt. The length of plaid puddled to the floor.
Amelia’s breath caught. Oh, my, he was magnificent. All sleek defined muscle and lean power.
“Touch me, sweet Amelia,” he murmured as he joined her on the bed. “Take yer time, my sweet. Learn my body. Just as I will learn yers.”
Suddenly, words seemed unnecessary. She wanted him. Just as he wanted her.
Slowly, softly, she swept her fingers over him, drawing a low sound of desire from deep in his throat. Each touch of her skin to his drew a response, more fevered than the last, until he dragged her to him, trailing the curve of her throat with warm, passionate kisses.
“Ye aim to drive me mad, do ye, lass?”
“It would appear I am succeeding,” she whispered against his velvet mouth.
“And now, it is my turn.”
His eyes flashed with wicked warning. A tiny tremor coursed through Amelia, realizing his intent. She had made him wild with hunger. And now, he would lead her to the brink of desperation with the same wanton, all-too-delicious need.
Every kiss, every feather-light touch seemed designed to thrill her senses. Amelia closed her eyes. Drinking in the pleasure. Relishing every sensation. Until her body hummed with longing and she dug her fingers into his shoulders and whispered a plea for surrender.
His clever mouth kissed her again, and then, he shifted his body, prowling over her.
“I want ye more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.” His husky brogue warmed her like a caress. “Ye’re beautiful, Amelia. So bloody beautiful.”
“I need you, Logan.” Her arms encircled him, holding him close. “Truly, I do.”
Without words, he kissed her again. Harder. Deeper. His shoulders went taut beneath her fingers as his body joined hers. So very slowly. An unhurried, sensuous possession.
She gasped. Not in pain. But in delicious, nearly wanton delight as he filled her softness. Deeply. Completely.
With each wickedly sensuous movement, he drew her closer and closer to a wild melding of their desires. Sating her hunger. Satisfying her need.
Ah, she could never get enough of him. She would never tire of being held in the arms of this powerful man. Never tire of the delight of lying skin to skin in his bed. She would never tire of being his .
His.
The word echoed through her as elemental pleasure rushed over her like storm-driven waves. Nibbling her lower lip, she clutched handfuls of the linen bedsheets between her fingers.
“Ah, sweet Amelia.”
His low, raw moan tipped her over the edge of desire.
Her world shattered. Drawn into a swirl of pleasure, she bit back a cry of unfettered pleasure.
Floating back to reality, she drifted in a haze of richly fulfilled desire.
“Ah, my sweet,” he whispered as he tensed against her. A rough-edged groan escaped his throat as he reluctantly pulled his body away from hers, mere heartbeats before shudders of primal pleasure rippled through his body.
Rolling onto his back, Logan drew her to him. She snuggled close, settling into the nook between his arm and his chest. She toyed with the lightly furred hair across his pectorals, loving the way he reacted to her slightest touch.
“I will always want ye here, at my side.” He brushed a tender kiss over her mouth. “If I live a thousand lifetimes, I will never get enough of ye, my beautiful Amelia.”