Page 47 of Highland Ruse

Last time he had denied her and left days of regret stretching between them.

This time he would not make the same mistake.

He swept his tongue against the tip of hers, and tingles of pleasure danced across his skin.

Her moan vibrated against his mouth.

Desire tightened through him, demanding more.

She pulled at her trapped hands. He felt the tug and resisted at first. Holding her wrists grounded him, tethered his passion, keeping it from spiraling out of control.

She wrenched once more, and this time he let them slide free from his grip.

Her hands found his chest, his back, his stomach.

He groaned at her exploration and gripped the nape of her neck, leaning her face slightly back to deepen their kiss. Their panting breaths tangled, as did their tongues and their desperate limbs—entwined passion with something deep and primal.

His cock raged with the need for release. Elizabeth’s body stretched against him, and the pressure of her hips to his sent pleasure tightening through him.

His touch roamed her body, seeing with his hands what he could not with his eyes. Though she was strapped into the thick layers of corsets and skirts and gown, he knew her to be beautiful beneath. The slender waist, the curve of her bottom no amount of petticoats could hide, the fullness of her breasts heaving atop her bodice.

He kissed a trail down her neck and flicked his tongue across the top of her bosom. The flesh was firm and sweet, and he wanted nothing more than to yank down the bodice to reveal the pink of her nipples.

Elizabeth’s knees gave. It was the slightest of staggers, but enough that he feared for her staying upright. Together they eased to the ground, their hands and mouths still greedy in exploration.

He slipped his fingers under her skirt, desperate to discover if her calves were as shapely as he thought them to be.

Her skin was smooth beneath his touch.

Like a starving man at a feast, a taste was not enough. Everything fled his mind but the need for more, more, more.

His caress crept higher, over her slender left thigh which eased aside at his stroking encouragement. Her hips arched against him, and he knew she would be wet with desire long before he touched her.

The knowledge should have satisfied him well enough. And perhaps, had he not spent the last several days trying to ignore his longing for her, it would have.

But the ache in his cock, the fog of want in his brain, it was all too overwhelming to deny.

Almost trembling with the force of his need, he caressed the juncture between her legs and loosed a groan from the deepest part of him.

She was slick and hot and swollen with need. His fingertip brushed the engorged bud near the top of her sex, and a cry rasped from her throat.

The longing was almost excruciating where it strained with an unbearable, pulsing throb at his loins.

Her hips rocked in time with the roll of his thumb.

Stop.

The voice in the back of his head wasn’t loud.

And it was far too easily ignored.

He slipped a finger inside her and let her heat clamp around his digit. Another groan eased from the back of his throat. If only that were his cock, locked in the heavenly squeeze of her.

Stop.

Louder this time. More insistent.

He hesitated.