Chapter 13 #2
Hot breath fanned across her cheek. Her mouth opened to him. She was offering parts of herself that she swore she’d never share, and she wouldn’t be able to stop herself even if she tried. As she shifted forward, she didn’t think she wanted to.
His hand tightened on her waist as he pulled her closer. He didn’t stop until she was flush against him, her head tilted up to maintain the kiss. Heat bloomed in every part of her, a smoldering pleasure that spread through her veins, making her blood flow hotter.
A growl rumbled out of Darragh’s chest, the sound reaching her core. It felt as if her legs were going to give out, all of her senses consumed by the Laird. He smelled of pine and hearthfire and the tea. It was safety.
She took a deep, unsteady breath. Everything about his presence seemed to pull her under. Each point where their bodies touched prickled with new, unexpected heat. It threatened to burn her alive, out of control like a wildfire.
Her body began to tremble as his thumb stroked her cheek in a way that felt almost reverent.
His touch glided over the skin just below her eyes, mapping the swell of fat returning to her face.
When his fingertips shifted to her neck, she thought that surely she’d collapse from the sheer force of her enjoyment.
Her grip on his doublet tightened, pulling him impossibly closer. The hand that had come to rest at the crook of her neck shifted, sliding down her body to grab onto her hip. With an ease that spoke of the strength coiled just below his skin, he picked her up.
The weightlessness reminded her of being younger. It was as if her troubles didn’t matter for a fleeting moment. Then, they began to move, and her mind sputtered in an attempt to work. The last of her survival instincts attempted to make themselves known.
As he carried her towards the mattress, a flutter of panic went through her.
Despite how badly she wanted this, she still couldn’t trust that everything he’d said was true.
She wanted to believe him. Saints, she wanted to believe him, but underneath this bubbling want was a whispering voice that said good always came with barbs.
Darragh silenced those thoughts when he gently settled her on the bed. The angle of the kiss changed, now more all-consuming, warm puffs of air spreading across her cheek with each ragged exhale. His arms caged her in, protective and dangerous all at once.
A fortress of sensation constructed itself around them. All she could hear was his steady breathing and the pounding of her heart in her ears. His scent was everywhere. Even the plushness of her mattress seemed to be pushing her closer.
Almost without her permission, her hands came to rest on his shoulders, unsure of whether to push him away or pull him in. Her heart decided for her, allowing him to deepen the kiss. A soft noise flitted through her lips, settling between them.
The sound seemed to break the last vestiges of his carefully constructed restraint. His mouth became hungrier, his tongue pressing past the seam of her lips. When his hand began slipping up her outer thigh, pushing the fabric of her gown up, she didn’t stop him.
Saints, he’s goin’ to… I should stop him. I should…
Just before he exposed the bare flesh of her knee, there was a knock at the door. It snapped both of them out of the daze. Almost immediately, Darragh was upright, his face a mask of power and control.
“Laird Fraser?” It was Mrs. Rowan, her voice echoing in the corridor. “Are ye in there?”
“Aye,” he replied, the word rumbling in his chest.
Amelia sat up, her heart pounding as she hurriedly stood, straightening her gown. She was hot all over, her ears feeling as though they were on fire. There was a strangle, not entirely unpleasant, bubbling sensation in her belly. It only intensified when she risked a look at Darragh.
“Ewan’s been lookin’ for ye,” Mrs. Rowan continued through the barrier. “I believe he’d like to report to ye about the trainin’ session today.”
“I’m sure,” Darragh replied, stopping to clear his throat. When he spoke again, there was no longer any trace of what had transpired between them only moments ago. “Send him to me study. I will meet him there shortly.”
“He’s already waitin’ for ye, Me Laird,” Mrs. Rowan said.
Amelia stayed incredibly still, her heartbeat slowly returning to normal. Next to her, Darragh shifted. She didn’t even have to look at him to know that his eyes were on her.
He reached up, smoothing her hair, his knuckles brushing against her neck. A shiver ran through her, but she still refused to look at him. She couldn’t. Her body and her mind were at war.
When his hand dropped away, he walked toward her door without looking back. She watched as he disappeared into the hallway, the distance growing by meters with each step he took. The click of the lock was loud in her room.
Touching her lips, Amelia sank back onto the window seat, staring blankly at the space where Darragh once stood. Her mind was reawakening, and the gravity of what she’d allowed began to bleed through. She’d let him get too close, welcomed it even.
Worse still, she was certain that she wanted it to happen again, regardless of how logic told her she shouldn’t.