Chapter 14 #2
Lizzie was weak with pleasure, her body tingling from the force of the release that he’d teased from her with his skilled fingers—and his mouth.
She’d never realized her breasts were so sensitive, but when he’d clasped his lips around her nipple, shards of white hot pleasure had shot through her in a hail of flickering light.
But it was nothing to the sensation of him pushing inside her.
She had to admit that she’d experienced a fleeting moment of doubt when he’d opened his breeches. He was a big man. Thick and long, the heavy round head stood a few inches past his belly button. He was at least twice as big as John—and that had hurt initially.
John. She should tell him.…
But the moment she felt him rub against her sensitive flesh, all other thoughts were gone. She wanted to take him into her body. To love him. To give him pleasure and find it in return.
Her body dampened, beckoning him in the most intimate way. The concentration of sensation started all over again as his plump head caressed her, teased her, roused her passion to a frenzied storm.
Until her body was wet and hot with need.
And when she didn’t think she could take another minute of his exquisite torture, he entered her, penetrating inch by incredible inch. Stretching her. Filling her.
And with one last plunge, completing her.
Her body sighed, taking him in as if she’d been waiting for this her whole life.
Perhaps she had.
God, she could feel him. Her body tingled around the rock-hard column that pulsed with life inside her. She was a puddle of sensation, ready to be swept away in a maelstrom of passion and desire.
Then suddenly he stopped.
He knew.
It had always been her intention to tell him, but there hadn’t been time. A flash of panic penetrated the haze. What if he didn’t want her? Their eyes met, and she saw the flicker of surprise. The silent question. But not blame. Not anger.
Relief crashed over her in a warm, shimmering wave of acceptance. The last barrier between them was gone, and Lizzie gave herself over to the power of their lovemaking.
She circled her hips and he started to pump. Slowly at first. Long, languid strokes, sliding in and out with deliberate purpose. Her body clutching around him the entire way—trying to hold on.
He kissed her again. Her mouth. Her breasts.
He took one nipple in his mouth, dragging it between his teeth.
She moaned at the sensation of his silky lips closing over her.
Laving her with the heat of his mouth and tongue as his arousal stirred her to a wicked frenzy. To a peak such as she’d never known.
She clutched him as if she would never let go, running her hands over his heated skin, over the slabs of tightly defined muscles in his arms and chest, feeling them taut and straining under her fingertips, loving the feel of his hard, powerful body on top of her … inside her.
Propped up over her, he was magnificent, his shoulders impossibly wide and powerful. Tight bands of muscle lined his stomach with every thrust. Just looking at him made her feel weak all over. His dark, silky hair slid forward across his handsome face, tight with the effort to control.
But she didn’t want control. She wanted to see the depths of his need for her, the depths of his very soul. She wanted all of him.
“Harder,” she urged him on. “Don’t hold back.”
His eyes were dark with passion. “I can’t. I’ll hurt you.”
“You won’t.” Her hands gripped his hard flanks and pulled him forcefully against her, lifting her hips to take him even deeper. “Please …”
It was all the encouragement he needed. He let go, and she welcomed him with all the love and acceptance in her heart.
He sank into her again, holding her gaze as he touched the deepest part of her. Again and again. Harder and faster.
He was amazing. All his power, his fierceness, unleashed inside her.
She clenched him tighter with her body, dragging each stroke from him. Until the violent crescendo reached its highest peak. Until all the love she felt for this amazing man converged into one perfect moment of sensual bliss.
It was magic.
This was love. What had happened with John Montgomery paled in comparison with the breathless splendor she felt in Patrick’s arms. Not just the pleasure that overwhelmed her body, but the closeness.
The emotional connection that made everything so intense.
Every touch. Every kiss. Every stroke reverberated through her like wildfire. She felt cherished. Protected. Loved.
And at that perfect moment—when her heart stopped and her body clutched in one last gasp—they touched heaven together.
Their shared cries of release tangled in the warm, sultry air of their pleasure.
The warm rush of his release was caught in the rippling tide of her own.
Their eyes met and wouldn’t let go—not even when the last shudder of their bodies had ebbed. And what she saw there touched her soul.
Tears of happiness blurred her vision. Lizzie had found her heart’s desire. She loved him, and he loved her. He might not be ready to admit it, but the truth was there in the emerald depths of his heated gaze.
Patrick rolled to the side so as not to crush her, feeling as if he’d just run into a stone wall.
Every bone in his body crushed. Every muscle ripped to shreds.
Once he’d spent almost a week on the run in the Lomond Hills, evading a score of Campbells, without sleep or food and very little water.
He felt like that now. When it had all been over, he’d slept for two days.
What the hell had come over him? He’d never lost himself like that. He’d been wild. Out of control. Possessed by passion unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Passion that had consumed him, wringing out every last ounce of his strength.
His heart tightened, gazing at the woman collapsed beside him like a rag doll. He swept his hand over her flushed cheek. “Did I hurt you?”
Her eyes were bright with happiness, giving him an unwelcome twinge. “Do I look hurt?”
His gaze slid over her red swollen lips, her flushed cheeks, her adorably messed hair, and her ivory breasts rosy from his kisses. No, she didn’t look hurt, she looked very thoroughly ravished.
And sensual as hell.
If he hadn’t just had the most amazing orgasm of his life wring him dry, he would be tempted to take her again—just so he could see if it had been real.
“You look beautiful,” he said honestly.
He saw the pleasure she took from his compliment, as if it were a rare treat, and vowed to tell her often so that she would never forget it.
Her smile, bereft of its usual uncertainty, deepened to pure radiance.
It hit him square in the chest. She should look like this always. Happy without restraint. Secure.
She lay in his arms for a moment, the curve of her body nestled intimately against his.
Her cheek and the palm of one soft hand rested on his chest. Absently, her fingers traced the narrow path of dark hair on his stomach.
Her hair was spread out like a flaxen veil on his chest, tickling his tanned skin.
So this was contentment. Would that they could stay like this forever.
When the pounding of their hearts had steadied and their breathing returned to normal, she propped up her chin on her hand and ventured a wary glance at him. “Are you disappointed?”
He stilled, not needing to ask what she was talking about.
Lizzie hadn’t been a virgin. Though part of him had guessed the truth, he admitted a moment of disappointment to have it confirmed.
He was a man, after all, it was only natural.
She was his woman, and he wished that he’d been the first. Irrational, unfair … definitely. But also honest.
That initial flare of disappointment, however, had fled when he thought of the hurt she must have suffered.
He suspected the identity of the man she’d given herself to, and it shed an entirely new light on the events he’d witnessed—and played an unknowing role in—that day.
His body clenched. How could the bastard make love to her and then treat her that way?
He’d taken too long to respond, and she misinterpreted his reaction. “I can understand if you wish to reconsider …” Her voice fell off unsteadily.
“Nay!” His reaction was swift and forceful; the swell of fierce emotion made him tighten his hold around her. “There is nothing to reconsider.”
The loss of her maidenhead to him was nothing to what it must have cost her. If anything, it eased his own sense of guilt about taking her.
Holding her in his arms like this, just the two of them, he found it easy to forget the complications that awaited them beyond. Life married to a MacGregor would be nothing like what she knew. He had nothing to give her. But he would do everything he could to make her happy.
He ached to taste every delectable inch of her body, cover her creamy soft skin with his hands, and make sure she never regretted the decision to marry him.
But it was a battle he was doomed to lose.
How else would she react when she discovered the truth? He’d deceived her. And that deception, though necessary, had never weighed more heavily on him.
She tilted her head, her eyes scanning his face. “You truly aren’t angry?”
He cupped her tiny chin. “Not with you.” But he wanted to kill John Montgomery. If the man wasn’t already living his penance, he would do just that.
She read him better than he realized and eyed him warily. “Do you want to know?”
He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Nay.” It was in the past. “Then I would have to kill him.”
Her eyes widened, his blunt statement surprising her. “You would do that for me?”
The woman was daft. “I will kill anyone who harms you.” He cocked a brow. “I hope that doesn’t offend your delicate sensibilities?”
“No,” she said hesitantly. “Though I’m not used to having such a fierce protector.”
He kissed her forehead. “Get used to it.” He paused. “Why didn’t you tell me?”