Chapter 23 #2
Her throat felt tight. She wanted to sound calm, but the words came ragged. “From the fact that I havenae slept in two nights! From the fact that every time I close me eyes I see ye, standin’ there actin’ as though ye ken exactly what ye’re daein’ tae me!”
His expression changed—first confusion, then understanding, then something darker. “Tae ye?” he repeated quietly.
Catherine froze, realizing what she’d just said. “I mean—ye make everything complicated, that’s all. Ye—ye linger, ye look, ye—” She gestured helplessly, heat crawling up her neck. “And then ye pretend ye dinnae.”
He took one slow step toward her, and the air between them thickened. “Pretend?”
She backed up, her shoulder catching the edge of the door. “Aye. Ye act as though none o’ it means a thing. As though ye can touch me one moment and turn cold the next, as though ye can kiss me and then—”
Her voice broke.
Aidan’s jaw tightened. “Ye think it meant naethin’?”
“I dinnae ken what it meant!” she blurted, and her breath came quick, almost a laugh of disbelief. “That’s the problem!”
He closed the distance then, slow but certain, until the heat of him pressed against the chill she hadn’t known she carried. The firelight caught in his eyes, and the sight of it stole every word she’d planned to say.
“Tell me tae stop,” he said quietly.
Her lips parted, but no sound came.
“Tell me, Catherine,” he said again, his voice rougher now. “If I’ve read it wrong, if I’m a fool, say the word.”
She couldn’t. Instead, she met his gaze and felt something inside her give way. The fury, the sleepless nights, the ache she’d tried to deny, all rushed together until there was nothing left but the want she had fought to hide.
He saw it, she knew he did. His breath hitched just once, and then his hand went up, fingers brushing her jaw. The touch was cautious at first, reverent, as though he were afraid she might vanish.
Catherine’s heart thundered. She hated that he could make her tremble like this, hated and wanted it in the same breath. “Ye drive me mad,” she whispered.
His thumb traced the corner of her mouth. “Aye,” he murmured. “I ken the feelin’.”
The space between them dissolved.
When he kissed her, it was hungry, desperate, the kind of kiss that stole air and reason both.
She caught his shirt in her fists, pulling him closer, tasting the warmth of him, the faint trace of wine on his breath.
Every sense sharpened—the scrape of his stubble against her skin, the heat of his hand at her back, the soft sound that escaped her throat when he deepened the kiss.
She had thought she remembered what it felt like, but this was worse—better—because now she knew exactly how dangerous it was and still she couldn’t stop.
Aidan pressed her gently against the wall, his forehead against hers, both of them breathing hard. The air between them was thick with the scent of rain and smoke and the faint sweetness of her hair.
“Christ, Catherine,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Ye dinnae ken what ye dae tae me.”
Her pulse jumped. “Maybe I dae.”
He laughed softly, a sound low and disbelieving, before kissing her again.
This one was slower, deeper, a careful claiming that made her knees weak.
His hand slid upward, tracing the line of her spine through the thin fabric of her shift.
Every inch of her felt alive, every nerve aware of the nearness of him.
When she swayed, he caught her with a quiet sound in his throat, his hands finding her hips, his thumbs pressing lightly into the soft fabric.
The small motion drew a shiver from her; her breath came faster.
Before she could think, his strength closed around her and he lifted her clean off the floor.
A startled sound left her lips as her hands flew to his shoulders.
Her legs, guided by instinct rather than thought, curled around him.
The world tilted. The air between them was filled with the sound of their breathing, uneven and hungry. He carried her the few steps to the bed, his gaze never leaving hers, the firelight gilding the planes of his face.
When he set her down, he didn’t move away. His palms framed her knees, his thumbs tracing the edge of the linen. For a heartbeat they simply stared—her chest rising fast, his eyes dark and questioning.
He searched her face, silent but asking, and she understood. Her nod was small but sure, her lips parting on a breath that trembled.
Then he bent to her again. The kiss that followed was long and unbroken, deep enough to steal every thought from her head.
His mouth moved from her lips to her cheek, to the hollow just below her ear, the slow path of it scattering her composure.
When he found the curve of her throat she gasped softly, her fingers tangling in his hair.
With a low groan, he moved lower. He slid his hands beneath the hem of her dress, gathering the fabric as he raised the linen up and over her hips.
His hands were rough and warm against the bare skin of her legs.
He knelt before her, his gaze hot as it roamed over her, finally settling in between her thighs.
Then, with a breath that trembled between them, he lowered his head between her thighs, and every thought she had scattered like sparks in the dark.
The first contact of his mouth sent a shock of sharp, desperate pleasure straight through the core of her.
Catherine gasped aloud, her hands instinctively flying upward, blindly scrabbling for purchase as her fingers twisted themselves into the sheets beneath.
His hands moved from the sheets to her hips, gripping her, holding her steady as his mouth claimed her.
It was a deliberate, thorough conquest. She felt the hot, wet velvet of his tongue, the agonizingly light scrape of his stubble against her softest skin, the insistent, rhythmic pull of his lips.
He explored her with a devastating focus, tracing every fold, tasting her deepest. Each stroke was a fresh wave of heat, a new spark, a consuming fire, and she felt it begin to climb, swiftly and surely, as Aidan worshipped her with a relentless, fierce devotion.
A low sound, half-sob, half-plea, tore from her throat.
His only answer was a low growl as his hands tightened on her, his thumbs pressing into the muscle of her thighs, holding her open for his tongue, never breaking the mesmerizing, maddening rhythm he had established.
It was a complete, focused assault on her senses that tightened every single muscle in her body.
“God, Catherine. Ye’re ruinin’ me,” Aidan breathed against her skin, the words vibrating through her entire body, a possessive, devastating rumble that sent a fresh shockwave of pleasure through her.
He sensed the final, desperate shift in her, and his tongue pressed harder, faster, a merciless, knowing stroke right at her center.
She couldn’t take it anymore; her spine arched off the bed, a strangled sound tearing from her throat as the building pressure became an unbearable ache.
She broke, feeling the desperate, ragged cry of his name tear from her lips as, in one blinding, shattering moment, pleasure seized her, hot and violent, making her body convulse against his mouth.
She was still trembling, her breath coming in painful sobs, when she felt him move.
He shifted, his large body covering hers, collapsing over her to press his face into the curve of her neck, his breath ragged and hot against her skin.
She could taste her own release on his lips as he kissed her.
Neither spoke. There were no words for this—for the way his heartbeat thundered against her chest, for the way her fingers still trembled where they traced his spine.
But beneath the quiet, she felt the tremor in him and knew that they’d crossed a line neither of them could return from.