Maya Banks - In Bed with a Highlander

He cursed. How badly had he hurt her? He knew he hadn’t given her the pleasure or patience she deserved. At the time, all he’d known was that he had to consummate the marriage with all haste. There hadn’t been time to seduce a shy virgin. Only now his shy virgin had turned into a stubborn, unwilling wife.

“Mairin, the marriage wasn’t valid until I bedded you. I couldn’t risk having something happen before I had the chance to bed you. If you’d been captured, Cameron could have taken you and petitioned to have our marriage set aside. He would have bedded you and got you with child to strengthen his claim.”

Her lip trembled and she cast her eyes downward to where her fingers twisted nervously at her skirts.

He took advantage of her momentary distraction and closed in. He reached down and took her hands in his. She was small and soft. Delicate. The idea that he’d been too rough, that he’d hurt her, unsettled him.

He should suffer no guilt for taking his wife. Her duty was to provide him pleasure, however he saw fit to take it. But the memory of her tear-filled eyes was a fist to his gut.

“It won’t be like that from now on.”

She raised her eyes to his and her brow wrinkled in confusion. “It won’t?”

“Nay, it won’t.”

“Why?”

He tempered his irritation and reminded himself that she needed a gentle hand right now.

“Because I’m quite skilled in loving,” he said. “And I plan to show you.”

Her eyes widened. “You do?”

“I do.”

Her mouth rounded, and she tried to take a step back. He held her hands tightly in his and pulled her back until she bumped into his chest.

“In fact, I intend to show you how very skilled I am.”

“You do?”

“I do.”

She swallowed and stared into his eyes, her own, wide and confused. “When do you plan to do this, Laird?”

He bent and swept his mouth over hers. “Right now.”

CHAPTER 15

Mairin put her hands on Ewan’s chest to steady herself, else she would have fallen under his relentless assault on her senses. She sighed and leaned farther into his kiss, not even protesting when his tongue slid sensuously over her bottom lip as he coaxed her to open.

The man might not be skilled in loving, but she could drown in his kisses. Maybe he’d be amenable to continue kissing and forego the rest.

“Kiss me back,” he murmured. “Open your mouth. Let me taste you.”

His words slid like velvet over her skin. She shivered as her breasts plumped and swelled. An ache began deep in her body, in parts that didn’t bear mentioning. How was he able to incite such a response when all he was doing was kissing her?

His palms glided up her waist and then up over her shoulders and up her neck until he framed her face. The heat from his touch branded her. It felt as though she’d have permanent marks on her cheeks from his fingers, and yet he was exquisitely gentle, the tips glancing over her skin like tiny winged creatures.

Unable to deny the probing of his tongue, she relaxed her mouth and allowed him to slide inside. Warm and rough. So very sinful. It was a decadent senson, one she was certain she should deny herself, but she couldn’t.

The temptation to taste him back was strong. So strong that it beat an incessant rhythm at her temples, in her mind, at her very core. Shyly she brushed her tongue over his lips. He groaned and she immediately pulled back, afraid she’d done something wrong.

He hauled her right back and captured her mouth once again in a ravenous fashion that left her breathless.

“Do it again,” he whispered. “Taste me.”

From the sound of it, he hadn’t disliked her touching him with her tongue. Tentatively she licked over his lip again. He relaxed his mouth against hers, opening so she had access.

Feeling braver, she boldly pushed forward, hot and wet. She shivered from the sheer carnality of something so simple as a kiss. She felt naked and vulnerable, as if she was spread out and underneath him as he slaked his lust over and over. Only this time she burned for him. She wanted him over her, his body covering hers. She felt twitchy and anxious, like her skin was too tight.

“This time I’ll undress you as I should,” he whispered, as he walked her back toward the bed.

Her mind was dim and she was slow sorting through her muddled thoughts. She frowned, knowing he didn’t have the right of it again. Was she forever going to have to instruct him?

“I should undress you. ’Tis my duty,” she said.

He grinned. “ ’Tis only your duty when I say it is. Tonight I fully intend to undress you and enjoy every moment. You deserve a slow wooing, lass. This will be your wedding night all over again. If I could go back and do it all differently, I would. But I’ll give you the next best thing. I’ll give you tonight.”

The promise in his voice shook her to her toes. She blinked as he lowered her dress over one shoulder and then followed a line down her neck and over the curve of her arm with his lips.

Each inch of her skin he uncovered, he kissed, sliding downward until her dress fell away, leaving her nearly bare under his gaze. Each layer pooled at her feet, until she was naked.

“You’re beautiful,” he husked, his warm breath whispering over the chill bumps that dotted her flesh.

He cupped one breast, palming it so the pale globe plumped upward. Her nipple contracted and beaded so tight that it sent tiny shards of lightning through her belly.

Then he bent and flicked his tongue over the erect nub, and her knees promptly buckled. She landed on the bed with a soft bounce, and he chuckled lightly as he followed her down.

With a gentle nudge, he had her on her back and he loomed over her, so big and strong. He stared so unabashedly at her nakedness that she reached for the covers, something, anything, to make her not feel so vulnerable.

He stayed her hand with his, his gaze tender as he met hers. 0em"y, don’t cover yourself, lass. You’re an exquisite sight. Unrivaled by any woman I’ve ever seen.” He trailed a finger over the curve of her waist to her hip and then back up again until he rubbed over her taut nipples. “You’re skin is as soft as the finest silk. And your breasts … they remind me of ripe melons just waiting to be tasted.”

She tried to suck in air but her lungs burned from the effort. Each breath felt tight. She panted shallowly, feeling more light-headed by the minute.

He backed away from the bed, and for a moment, she panicked. Where was he going? But he began shedding his clothing in a much more impatient manner than he’d divested her of hers. He kicked off his boots and then ripped off his tunic and trews, tossing them across the room.

Looking at him was inevitable. She couldn’t have glanced away if she wanted. There was something intensely mesmerizing about the rugged, work-honed contours of his body. Scars, some old, some much newer, traced paths over his flesh. There wasn’t a single bit of spare flesh to be seen. Muscles tightened his chest and even his abdomen, where so many men went soft with age. Not her warrior. This was a man honed in the fires of battle.

With a nervous swallow, she dropped her gaze to the juncture of his legs, curious to see the part of him that had caused her such pain before. Her eyes widened at the sight of him jutting so hard and … big. She began backing up toward the bed before she even realized what she was doing.

“Don’t be frightened,” he murmured, as he lowered himself over her. “I won’t hurt you this time, Mairin.”

“You won’t?”

He smiled. “I won’t. You’re going to like it.”