Page 65 of Desire of a Highlander

“Who says I want you to?”

He growled deep in his throat then grabbed the hem of her dress and hiked it up to her knees. His fingers trailed gently up the inside of her thigh, barely touching her, but the sensation was enough to send those sparks racing through her blood again. But Ronan didn’t stop there. His fingers slipped beneath her undergarments and found the warm heat between her legs. Slowly, he began to caress her, his thumb stroking her nub whilst one finger slipped inside her.

It was Elodie’s turn to be helpless. She’d never felt anything like this. Without needing to be told, Ronan seemed to sense exactly what she needed. She was distantly aware that she was letting out little mewls of pleasure, writhing as he caressed her, but all of her attention was taken up by the whirl of sensations his touch sent swirling through her.

Ronan was watching her intently, his eyes gone dark with lust. His lips parted, a low exhale escaping him as he brought her closer and closer to her peak. Then suddenly, he stopped.

“I need to be inside ye, lass,” he breathed. “Right now.”

Elodie could only nod. In a few deft movements, he shed his clothes and knelt naked before her. Her eyes roved over him, drinking in every inch, from the dark lust in his eyes, to the hard planes of his chest and stomach, to his manhood standing straight out from his body.

She sat up just enough to begin pulling at her own clothes, suddenly desperate to have them gone, suddenly desperate to have nothing between them but heat and sweat. Ronan grabbed her dress and helped her wriggle out of it, tossing it away impatiently. Her shift and undergarments quickly followed until she was as naked as he was, the grass soft beneath her, the breeze gentle on her skin.

Ronan’s gaze drank her in greedily. “Beautiful,” he breathed. “And mine.” His voice was full of hunger.

He pushed her down and placed himself above her, hands propped to either side. His hair fell forward to brush her face as he stared down, his eyes only inches from hers.

“Make love to me, Ronan,” she breathed. “Please.”

It was all the invitation he needed. With a groan he nudged her knees apart, lowering the weight of his hips onto hers. He didn’t stop looking at her, nor break eye contact, as he shifted his hips and eased himself gently inside her.

Elodie gasped as he filled her, feeling herself stretch to accommodate all of him, and only when he was buried fully inside her did he break eye contact, closing his eyes and letting a soft sigh escape him.

Then he began to move. Slowly, with only tiny movements at first, his hips began to rock back and forth. Elodie moved with him instinctively, panting a little at the delicious pleasure that spiraled from her core with each tiny thrust. She clasped his back, feeling her nails rake across his skin as his tempo increased, and with it the surge of heat bursting through her.

Elodie screwed her eyes shut. Nothing she’d ever experienced felt like this. Nothing had ever come close. Every nerve felt aflame, alive in a way they never had before. They moved in time together, Ronan’s breathing becoming as ragged as hers. He thrust into her again and again, the muscles of his back and buttocks bunching and relaxing with his movements.

It was too much. It could never be enough. Elodie cried out each time he slammed into her. She wanted more, more, more. Their movements became wild, furious, Ronan groaning every bit as loud as she was. His heat filled her. His scent surrounded her. His weight pinned her. And it was delicious. So delicious.

“Ronan,” she gasped. “Don’t stop. Oh God, don’t stop.”

He was hammering into her hard now, their bodies slapping as they came together over and over. Burning pressure mounted inside her. It was unbearable. It was ecstasy. It built and built and built and Elodie was tearing, tearing, tearing, then exploding into fragments.

She thought she might have cried out. She thought she might have screamed Ronan’s name. She wasn’t sure. As her climax pounded through her, she lost all awareness.

Ronan growled deep in his chest and juddered as he too reached his climax. He collapsed on top of her but Elodie barely noticed. She was floating, floating, and everything else was forgotten. Only slowly did the sensation ebb and she came back to herself a little.

Ronan shifted his weight, lifting himself up onto his hands and staring down at her. He gently kissed her forehead. “I love ye, Elodie MacNeil. I hope I’ve just shown ye how much.”

She smiled lazily up at him. She felt floaty and full of a warm, satisfying lassitude. “Oh, you did. But that doesn’t mean I want you to stop showing me.”

He laughed, a deep rumble that she felt through his chest, then rolled away from her, pulling her into the crook of his arm. She snuggled against him. She wanted to kiss him again. She wanted to pull him on top of her again. She didn’t want to miss a single second of his presence.

But Ronan’s body was warm, the breeze was gentle, and she was still floating on that balmy sea. Despite her efforts, sleep pulled her under.

RONAN LAY ON HIS SIDE, propped on one elbow, watching Elodie sleep.

Her breathing was slow and even, one hand curled beneath her cheek, a strand of brown hair dancing gently across her face whenever the breeze stirred.

She had never looked more beautiful. Carefully, so as not to wake her, he brushed the stray lock behind her ear. She murmured something unintelligible and shifted closer instead of away, her hand coming to rest lightly against his chest.

It was such a small thing. Yet no one had touched him with such unconscious trust in...he couldn’t remember. He covered her hand with his own. It felt so tiny in his and yet it was full of a quiet strength, just like the woman herself.

A woman who was from another century, he reminded himself. He still couldn’t quite believe it. In fact, he still couldn’t quite believe anything that had happened since she’d literally fallen into his life. It felt like a dream.

He remembered the first time she’d spoken to him like it had happened only moments ago. She’d walked into his smithy, her mannerisms and turn of speech so unlike anyone he’d ever met that he’d not known what to make of her. Now he understood why. What he still didn’t understand was why she loved him.

But she did. Somehow, she did. And that was a greater gift than he’d ever dared to dream of being given.