Chapter Sixteen #3
Jenna burst out laughing. “Oh no! I’ll bear that in mind in future. If I get a ‘bad case of the skitters’, I’ll be sure to pin a note on my door to let her know where I am.”
Arran grinned, his eyes sparkling. “Most wise.”
“You can’t really blame her, though. You’re all she has left. It couldn’t have been easy for her after losing your father and brother.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized it had been the wrong thing to say. All the mirth drained out of Arran’s expression to be replaced by a hollow, haunted look. He turned away, picked up more pebbles, and began tossing them again. “No,” he said. “It wasnae.”
Jenna cursed her big mouth. She wanted to reach out and lay a hand on his shoulder, but sensed that would not be the right thing to do.
There was an old pain deep inside Arran MacLeod, one he rarely showed to the world but that surfaced at odd moments, like now.
She could only guess how hard his life had been.
He was twenty-seven years old, unmarried, and without children.
Jenna didn’t know much about history, but she knew enough to realize this was unusual in this time.
He’d forsaken having a family for the sake of guarding his people, something he’d been doing since the loss of his father and brother at the age of seventeen. Was it any wonder he could be taciturn and surly when he wanted to be?
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to stir up painful memories.”
“Ye didnae. All that happened a long time ago.” He smiled wryly. “Families, eh? They tear ye up and break yer heart.”
“Yes,” Jenna said, her gaze becoming unfocussed. “They do.”
Arran frowned suddenly. “Lass,” he said. “Ye are smoldering.”
Jenna looked where he indicated and realized that the hem of her shift was starting to singe from where she’d been sitting too close to the fire.
“Shit!” She jumped away, batting and flapping at the material until the singed bits stopped smoldering.
It was only then she realized that in her haste she’d moved closer to Arran. So close, in fact, that she could feel his shoulder brushing hers. She turned her head to find his face only inches away.
She ought to move back. She ought to put some space between them. But she didn’t move. She couldn’t move. His blue gaze trapped and held her. She swallowed thickly, feeling a hot ache light in her belly. Oh yes, she most definitely ought to move away.
“Arran, I—”
She got no further. One of Arran’s big hands came up to cup her cheek, then he leaned in and kissed her.
She gasped and Arran pulled away a couple of inches. “I’m sorry, lass. I didnae mean to—”
Jenna wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, stifling whatever apology he’d been trying to offer. She didn’t want apologies. She wanted him.
Arran’s arms went around her waist, yanking her hard against his chest, and he kissed her with a fierceness that matched hers, their lips meeting in a feverish, almost desperate clash.
Oh God, how she wanted him! And, if the way he was kissing her was anything to go by, Arran wanted her just as badly.
Arran lifted her into his lap and Jenna wrapped her legs around his waist, scooting so close that she could feel the hard bulge between his legs. The feel of it sent her thoughts skittering. She ran her hands down his back, feeling the ridges and contours of his muscles, moaning against his mouth.
Then, all of a sudden, Arran rolled over onto the sand, pinning her beneath him.
His kisses traveled down her neck to her collarbone, his tongue tracing a line of fire across her skin.
Jenna moaned, her back arching involuntarily as he explored her.
His hands were on her, the hard pads of his fingers gliding across her skin, cupping her breasts through the thin fabric of her damp shift and then teasing her nipples until they hardened.
One of his hands reached down, found the hem of her shift, and slipped beneath, a finger trailing its way up the inside of her thigh.
Jenna’s breath hitched, a gasp escaped, and that hot core between her legs became molten.
Her fingers dug into the sand beneath her and her hips bucked involuntarily as his questing fingers trailed higher, higher.
At the same time, his lips came down atop hers, his tongue plunging into her mouth even as a finger plunged into the soft warmth between her legs.
Jenna gasped, but Arran did not release her lips, his kisses hard and demanding, his fingers deft and expert as they explored her. Oh God. Oh shit. What was he doing to her?
Jenna began to lose all sense of control.
Her body responded without conscious thought, and she writhed under his touch as the delicious pleasure began to build.
Her hands came up to tangle in his thick hair as she kissed him, wanting to taste him, to feel him, to have him on and in her.
She wasn’t sure she’d ever wanted anything as much.
“Arran,” she groaned against his lips, the only word she seemed able to form. “Arran.”
“What, my beauty?” he whispered between kisses, his fingers slowly stoking her into an inferno. “What do ye want?”
“You know what I want,” she replied, her voice low and husky.
“Do I? I want to hear ye say it.”
“You,” she whispered. “I want you.”
His eyes slid closed, and a low moan escaped him. “Then I am yers.”
With both hands, he took hold of her shift and pulled it over her head.
Jenna threw up her arms to help him, suddenly wanting nothing between them but hot, bare skin.
As he tossed the damp garment by the fire, she began plucking at the belt that held up his breeches, her fingers fumbling in her haste to get them off.
She got the belt free, and he obliged by kicking out of the clinging garment, revealing his large, muscled thighs and the whole glorious length of him standing proud between them.
Jenna’s mouth went dry at the sight and as he pushed her back down, kissing her once more, she reached an arm into the space between them and ran her hands up his full, hard length. Now it was Arran’s turn to gasp, and she felt goosebumps ride up his skin as she stroked him.
He gazed down at her, his face so close to hers that their noses touched.
His eyes were so dark now they seemed almost black, but she could see the raw desire that burned in their depths.
He wanted her. This big, powerful man who could probably have any woman he wanted on this island wanted her.
She could feel his need coming off him in waves, hanging in the air around them like musk.
“Jenna,” he whispered, the word a soft caress across her skin. “My wildcat.”
She wrapped both arms around his neck. “Arran,” she murmured. “My fierce Highlander.”
He breathed out slowly and stared at her, unblinking, as he nudged her legs apart with his knees. Running her hands down his back, she felt his muscles bunch as he tilted his hips and thrust himself inside her.
Jenna cried out as he filled her. Delicious heat coiled up from the spot and went sizzling along her nerves.
She clutched Arran’s back as he began to move, slowly at first but then with increasing tempo, her nails raking him, her hips rising to meet his thrusts, their bodies soon moving in perfect synchronicity.
Her world shrank. Gone were thoughts of magic and time travel and raiders. Gone were thoughts of anything beyond this moment. It was just her and Arran, the only things that mattered.
His breath was harsh by her ear, hair falling forward to tickle her face, and his scent was all around her, a scent that smelled like the wind and the waves and the sky all rolled into one. She felt wild and reckless and… and… alive in a way she never had before.
She moved in time with him, a thin sheen of sweat sliding between their bodies, and as their tempo increased and gasps and moans of pleasure began to escape from between Arran’s clenched teeth, Jenna’s own pleasure began to mount. That burning ember deep in her core glowed red hot.
She threw her head back, gasping as that fire burned, burned, burned right through her until finally, finally, she exploded into tiny embers and screamed Arran’s name to the limitless blue sky. She lost herself, obliterated, and was only dimly aware of Arran juddering as he too reached his climax.
She lost all sense of time and place, giving herself over to the fiery pleasure that consumed her. But finally, after what could have been a second or a lifetime, the fire slowly began to ebb and she opened her eyes.
Arran was lying on top of her, his weight pressing her into the sand. After a moment, he raised his head and looked at her. She couldn’t quite read his expression, but the heat in his gaze had cooled and now it was replaced by something else, a look of sated satisfaction.
He grinned, a boyish grin that lit his face and made him even more devastatingly good-looking. “Wildcat,” he murmured. “Very apt. Is there any of my back left?”
She ran her fingers over the skin of his back, feeling the gashes where she’d scratched him. “Sorry,” she said. “I guess I got a little carried away.”
“I consider them a badge of honor,” he replied.
He dipped his head and kissed her. It was slow and gentle this time, with none of the desperation and desire of before, and it was all the sweeter for that.
Jenna kissed him equally as gently and as she did so, she felt something stir deep within her.
Something warm and pleasant that she struggled to put a name to.
Not desire, not this time, but something else, something deeper, something that seemed to rise up from the very bottom of her being.
In that instant, she realized she could live in this moment forever. With him.
He rolled away from her, lying on his back on the sand and then pulling her close against him. Jenna nestled herself against his side, head resting on his broad chest. He kissed the top of her head.