Page 63 of Wedded to the Devilish Highlander
Not until she knew, without a shred of doubt, that he saw her.Wantedher.
He slid back up her body, covering her completely, resting his weight on her with exquisite control.
Their gazes locked.
Brown eyes full of trust.
Slowly, achingly, he rolled his hips against hers, letting her feel the hard proof of his desire.
She gasped, clawing at him, her back arching off the bed.
“Archer,” she breathed again, helpless, wanton and perfect.
He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to go slow.
Her breath came in soft, shallow pants against his mouth, her body trembling with need.
Archer pulled back just enough to look down at her, his gaze sweeping over her features, the wild mane of her hair across the pillows.
His hand slipped lower, dragging her linen shift higher up her thighs.
She gasped into his mouth as his calloused fingertips traced the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, featherlight at first, then firmer, more demanding.
Every muscle in her body coiled tight, anticipation prickling across her skin.
Archer broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against hers, breathing hard. “Tell me if ye wish for me to stop, lass,” he whispered, his voice breaking. Every fiber of his being begged her not to say it.
“I would rather die than say it.” Her fingers clutched at his shoulders.
A low, tortured sound escaped him, half growl and half prayer.
He shifted lower, his mouth worshipping a path along her throat, her collarbone, down the swell of one breast. His hand slid higher between her thighs, parting them gently, reverently.
When his fingers found her, slick and hot and already aching for him, he swore low under his breath.
“So wet for me,” he groaned. “Christ, lass… ye are killin’ me.”
The first careful brush of his fingertips against her most sensitive flesh made her cry out softly, her hips bucking.
He chuckled against her skin—a dark, dangerous sound.
“Easy, lass,” he purred. “Let me take me time with ye.”
And he did.
Sweet, unmerciful Lord, he did.
He rubbed her gently at first, coaxing, teasing, his thumb gliding through the slickness, finding that spot that made her jerk beneath him with a desperate, little whimper.
“That’s it,” he crooned, kissing the corner of her mouth, her jaw, her ear. “Let yerself feel it. Feel me.”
Eileen had never felt anything like it before.
Every nerve sparked to life under his touch. Heat coiled low in her belly, spreading outward, building with maddening slowness as he worked her with devastating skill. He was patient, thorough, and utterly focused on her pleasure.
When he slid a thick finger inside her, her entire body arched off the bed, a broken sob escaping her lips.
“So tight,” he growled, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he moved inside her with careful precision. “So. Bloody. Perfect.”
