“There is one thing ye need tae ken about me, Madeline Whitworth. Dinnae ever dare me tae do something.” The moment he leaned into her, his tantalizing scent filled her senses. For a moment, his mouth hovered close to hers, before his head tipped to one side, and he nibbled at her earlobe. “Ye will nae win, especially if there is only a mere piece of fabric between my mouth and your sweet curves.”
The words immediately made it almost impossible to breathe as she tried to pull badly needed air into her lungs. Of their own volition, the muscles at the apex of her thighs tightened in response to his seductive brogue and the image his voice had created in her head. Heaven help her, in less than five seconds, the man had her on the brink of throwing herself at him. She gulped at the realization. Struggling to breathe, Madeline shivered as his mouth feathered light, almost intangible, kisses along her jawline.
“As much as I wanted tae, I dinnae give way to temptation yesterday, lass.” The whisper was a soft caress over her senses, and her eyes fluttered shut despite her best efforts to resist the hypnotic sound of his voice. “But ye did say tae make sure I am right before I prove a point, mo bhòidhchead fuilt dorcha, and I need tae ken if ye lips are as sweet-tasting as they look, if only tae prove tae myself that I’m right.”
God, the man could make a dictionary sound sexy as hell, but whatever he was calling her in that Gaelic language of his was enough to make her willing to do just about anything he asked of her. Ready to melt from the heat rushing through her, Madeline dragged in a sharp breath just before his mouth covered hers in a light kiss.
Frozen where she stood, a tremor rocked its way into every inch of her body as his mouth hardened against hers. Strong muscular arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her into his sinewy frame. Hands splayed against the steely hardness of his chest, her lips eagerly parted beneath his.
A low sound rumbled in his chest, and it vibrated through his muscles to dance against her fingertips as his tongue mated with hers. The spicy, orange flavor of the jam they’d had at breakfast flooded her mouth. It held the faintest hint of honey and whiskey. God, the man was a veritable feast of everything hot and male.
Desire spiraled through her limbs, while her nipples hardened. The corset she wore was low enough that the hard edge of it brushed against the stiff peaks causing them to tighten and ache with an almost painful pleasure.
The moment a large hand slid up from her waist to brush across the top of her breasts, a soft moan whispered out of her. Beneath the gown’s bodice, the tip of her breasts tightened even more until she whimpered with need. In the back of her mind, she knew this kiss was madness, but she was beyond all sense of reason. The only thing her body wanted—needed—right now was his touch. Everything else was lost in a mind-numbing bliss.
§ § §
The sweetness of Madeline’s lips against his made Iain’s heart slam into his chest like a sledgehammer. Every erotic thought he’d ever had about her clouded his head as he savored the hot taste of her. The soft scent of lavender filled his nostrils, and he pulled her soft curves even tighter into his body. Beneath his kilt, his cock was hard as iron.
It had been a long time since he’d had a woman, but he couldn’t remember ever having a woman in his arms as intoxicating as Madeline. The soft sigh of delight he heard pass her lips stirred a need in him to carry her upstairs to his room and revel in her warm, fragrant skin.
He wanted to explore every inch of her with his mouth and hands. Most of all, he wanted to sink into her hot, silky folds. He wanted to feel her body clutching his as she cried out his name, just before her body shuddered beneath his with wild abandon as she came fast and hard.
Like a sleek kitten aching to be stroked, her body moved against his in a silent plea for him to satisfy them both. His hands cupped her buttocks to tug her hips forward until his cock was nestled between her voluptuous thighs with only her gown and his kilt preventing him from taking her this second.
Raw, carnal need surged through his veins as he struggled not to sit her on his desk, lift her skirts, and slide into her. Knowing he was on the precipice of doing just that, he pushed her back until she was an arm’s length away from him. Passion softened her features as she stared up at him with surprise and disappointment.
Self-disgust sailed through him. Christ, the woman was a guest in his home, and he’d been on the verge of taking his pleasure with her. Iain shook his head as if doing so would clear the fog that still blinded him to almost everything in the room except her.
“Forgive me, Madeline.” He swallowed hard. “I should nae have—”
“There’s no need for an apology. We’re both adults.”
Shoulders rolling in a nonchalant shrug, she turned away and took a step toward the door. There was something about her stiff posture that made Iain reach out to catch her arm. She looked over her shoulder at him, and he saw something unfamiliar flicker in her gaze. Unable to decipher the emotion, he studied her intently.
“Ye misunderstand, mo leannan. I dinnae regret the kiss. I found it immensely pleasurable, but I took advantage of the situation.”
“I don’t regret it either,” she breathed softly. “And it was… I enjoyed it very much.”
Color flooded her cheeks, and with a gentle tug, she freed her arm from his grasp then fled the room. As the study door closed behind her with a solid thud, Iain shoved his hand through his hair. Madeline Whitworth was beginning to be a problem for him.
