Chapter 21 #3
He stilled, wanting nothing more. But he also didn’t want to risk overtiring her in her weakened state.
Her hand skimmed the waistband of his trews, and he captured her wrist before she could touch him, knowing that once she did, he would be past the point of reason.
His need for her was so strong, it would be like trying to harness a lightning bolt.
“Are you sure, lass?” His voice was tight with restraint. “This time there will be no going back. The marriage has not been recorded. If you want out of it, I’ve promised your brother I would not contest it.”
“I’m done looking back. I only want to look to the future. With you.”
He let go of her wrist, and when she covered him with her sweet little hand, he groaned into her mouth as he claimed the woman he loved.
Flora tasted his groan of pleasure as she slid her hand over his trews, molding him with her hand. Just touching him again made her flood with heat. He was so big and hard, and she couldn’t wait to feel him inside her—filling her as he thrust hard and deep.
Her body pulsed with desire.
She wanted to hold on to every second and make this last forever. But the touch of his mouth on hers was like wildfire, and she knew there would be no containing the passion that burned between them. It was too hot, too intense, too out of control.
After nearly losing him, she needed him too badly.
Her hands skimmed over his back and shoulders, pressing him closer. God, he was amazing. So gorgeous and strong. His warrior’s body layered with solid, thick muscle that flexed under her fingertips.
He broke the kiss only long enough to pull off his shirt and trews and then slid into the bed beside her, pulling her against him as his mouth fell on hers again.
She melted into the heat, wanting to feel every powerful inch of him pressed against her.
His warm, smooth skin wreaked havoc on her senses, making her tingle where they touched.
His big hands took command of her body. He touched her everywhere, stroking, caressing, igniting. His fingers plunged through her hair, down her back, and over her bottom. His rough, callused palms were both gentle and possessive as he lifted her against him.
Her body was damp and throbbing—desperate for him. The craving ran from the deepest part of her, taking hold and demanding release.
And he wanted her, though he was struggling to contain it. He kissed her harder, his tongue sliding into her mouth with deep, demanding strokes. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted him wild—beyond restraint—the way he’d been in her room last night. The way she felt right now.
“Don’t,” she murmured against his mouth.
He pulled back, and she could see his confusion. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t hold back. I want all of you. You don’t need to protect me.” She lifted up to kiss him, sliding her tongue along the velvety crease of his mouth. “I won’t break.”
His eyes searched her face.
“You could never frighten me,” she assured him.
He was so beautiful, this wild, passionate man.
She kissed him again, sliding her tongue in his mouth and circling her tongue with his in a deeply erotic, deeply carnal openmouthed kiss.
“Show me,” she breathed. “I want to feel your passion … unchained.” She circled him with her hand.
His eyes flared, and the spark of danger urged her on.
Holding his gaze, she challenged him, stroking him, squeezing with long, hard strokes. She wouldn’t let him go. He was hers. All of him—even that rough, untamed side of him that he sought to hide.
The flames rose higher and higher in his eyes.…
She’d won. His control snapped. She was on her back, and he was kissing her, his mouth moving over her lips, her jaw, her neck. Dominating. Ravaging. Wild and free.
He licked and sucked, making her shudder as his warm breath blew across her damp skin. He cupped her breasts and buried his face between her, the stubble of his beard scraping the tender flesh. She arched against him, needing more. Needing his mouth.
He covered her throbbing nipple and sucked, pulling her between his teeth until she writhed against him. Until her body began to spasm.
He lifted his head and held her gaze as he entered her in one hard thrust. The pleasure made her cry out. So big and thick, he filled her so completely, the pleasure was so acute, she couldn’t stand it.
And then he started to move, holding her gaze the entire time. The raw intensity of his expression took her breath away. It wasn’t just lust, or even just love, but something far more elemental: a perfect union of two bodies and two souls into one. He was meant for her and she for him.
She could feel the emotion surging in him just under her fingertips, his entire body pulsating with the pressure of everything that had happened between them. How close they’d come to losing each other. He thrust deeper and deeper. Harder and harder. And she met him stroke for stroke.
This was it. He was out of control, utterly consumed. And so was she. Never had she felt so alive and free. She felt the pressure build, knew she was close, but she had to hold on.… He sank in her deep, pushing higher, forcing her.
She couldn’t breathe. It felt too good. She pulsed with heat, and sensation rippled through her in warm, wet waves.
She felt him stiffen, saw the pleasure transform his face, and heard the deep guttural cry that tore from him as his release gripped his body, and she let go …
weightless for a long heartbeat before breaking apart with a shattering intensity, her body contracting hard around him, the warm rush of his seed spilling deep inside her.
He was merciless, not even letting her catch her breath.
Still warm and tingling, he rocked his hips against her, rubbing her hard against him until she cried out again.
Slow and strong, wave after wave of sensation crashed over her.
And when the last ebb of her release had faded, he nestled her against him tenderly, as if she might break.
She was moved beyond speech by the magnitude of what had just happened. He’d given her everything: his love, his body, his soul, and his trust.
Lachlan smoothed his hand over her warm, velvety skin, watching as the frantic rise and fall of her chest slowed. He didn’t know what to say. Words seemed an imperfect substitute for what he was feeling right now. Happy, content, relieved—all seemed utterly inadequate.
The misery of the past few days had been put behind them.
The uncertainty of revealing his bargain with Argyll, the pain of their confrontation, arriving home with his brother to discover her gone, seeing her on that rock, realizing what Hector intended, and then watching her jump into the frigid, churning seas.
It had all been expunged, released in a cataclysmic explosion of love and lust.
She’d stripped him to the core, seen behind the veil of civility, and given him only love and acceptance.
He’d made her his wife, bound her to him for eternity, but never had he felt so free—unchained, as she’d called it.
My wife.
She sighed deeply.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She turned to him and smiled. “More than all right.”
He tilted her chin, gazing deep into her eyes. “I love you.”
“I know.” Her mouth curved in a naughty little grin. “You finally succeeded in proving it to me.”
“Thank God,” he groaned. “I don’t think I could do that again.”
But as they found out a few hours later, he was wrong.