Page 95 of The Laird who Craved her

"Please," she sobbed. "Finn, please…"

"Please what?" he asked, his voice a velvet rasp.

"I need…I daenae ken?—"

"I ken, lass," he soothed. "I have ye. Just let go."

He pressed harder, his fingers working her with a rhythm that built and built until she was trembling on the edge of something vast and overwhelming. Her nails raked down his back, and she cried out his name as the wave crashed over her, pleasure ripping through her body in blinding, shattering waves.

He held her through it, his lips pressed to her brow, his voice a low murmur of praise. "That's it. So perfect. My beautiful lass."

When the tremors subsided, she lay limp beneath him, her chest heaving. He kissed her softly, then reached down to undo the fastenings of his kilt. She watched him through heavy-lidded eyes as he shed the last of his clothing, revealing himself to her fully.

He was beautiful. And he was so hard for her, the evidence of his desire straining against his belly.

"Ye are not frightened?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She shook her head. "Nae of ye."

He positioned himself between her thighs, the head of his shaft pressing against her entrance. He looked into her eyes, his gaze fierce and tender all at once.

"Tell me if I hurt ye," he said. "I will stop. I swear it."

"I trust ye," she whispered.

He pushed forward, slow and careful, and she felt herself stretch around him. She gasped at the sudden fullness, her fingers digging into his shoulders. He paused immediately, his forehead pressed to hers.

"Are ye all right?"

"Aye," she breathed. "Just... different."

"I ken." His voice was strained, his body trembling with the effort of restraint. "I will go slow."

He moved deeper, inch by careful inch, until he was fully seated inside her. She felt impossibly full, stretched to her limit, and yet there was no pain, only a deep, aching pressure that made her gasp with every small movement.

"Ye are so tight," he groaned, his voice wrecked. "So perfect."

He began to move, a slow, rocking rhythm that built with every stroke. She clung to him, her legs wrapped around his waist, her moans mingling with his ragged breaths. The friction built inside her, a coiling heat that made her cry out with every thrust.

"Finn…I…"

"I ken, lass," he gasped. "Let go. Let go for me."

She shattered around him, her body clenching and pulsing as pleasure ripped through her. The feeling of her climax triggered his own, and he buried his face in her neck, groaning her name as he spilled inside her.

They lay tangled together in the aftermath, their bodies slick with sweat, their breath mingling in the firelit dark. He pulled her against his chest, his arms wrapped tight around her, and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

"I love ye," he murmured. "I love ye, Claire."

She smiled against his skin. "I love ye too, Finn."

He tightened his arms around her. "I will never let ye go. Nae ever."

She closed her eyes, her heart so full it ached, and let sleep claim her in the warmth of his embrace.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

The castle seemed to breathe differently that evening. The heaviness that had settled over Rosewood in the days following Claire's disappearance had finally lifted. Laughter drifted through the corridors once more, and servants moved about their duties without the constant worry shadowing their faces. Somewhere in the courtyard below, a stable hand whistled a cheerful tune while brushing down one of the horses.