Page 40 of Highland Seduction

“Nay,” he said, tearing them apart. “No’ there.”

She immediately pulled her hand away as Tor realized she misunderstood. “I want for naught more than ye to touch me there, Ainsley. I’d gladly give over to any and all explorations ye wish to have. But this need I have to touch ye, to be with ye . . .” He expelled a breath. “I fear my ability to restrain myself.”

She blinked. “What does that mean, precisely?”

He’d prefer to show her, but an explanation would have to suffice. “When a man releases, as ye did in the tub, he spills his seed.” She did not understand. “It would be as if”—he tried to find the words—“something, like ale or honey, were spilled all over me.”

Her eyes widened. “Honey?”

Tor chuckled. “No’ precisely. But were I to come here, which I certainly would do if ye touched me, ’twould be quite messy.”

Ainsley cocked her head to the side, considering his words.

“If we had a cloth—”

“Ainsley.”

“Or something else to catch it.”

“Ainsley,” he warned. And then his gaze fell to her lips accidentally.

“I could do that to ye?” she asked. “Elicit the same feelings as ye did to me in the tub?”

Dear Lord, save him. If she kept speaking that way, Ainsley may not have to touch him at all.

“Aye.”

“Hmm.” She nodded. “I believe I wish to try that this eve.”

He was done for. Tor needed to get Ainsley back outside immediately. Except, when he reached for the door, she stopped him. “I’d like to stay.”

Tor could hardly move. He was so hard, ’twas almost painful. And yet . . . it was the first time she’d made her wishes clear. He would not discourage her. In response, Tor backed his wife against the very door he should be opening to leave. Grabbing both of her wrists, he pinned them above her head and pressed himself against her.

“Can ye feel the effect of yer words, Ainsley?”

She looked him deep in his eyes. And then pressed her hips to him. Tor groaned. He took that as a yes and then kissed her just as deeply as before. She did not attempt to move her arms, but instead met his every tongue thrust with her own. Circling her hips against him, despite not knowing how closely it mimicked what they would do someday, soon, he hoped, Tor willed himself not to come.

And then, he offered his wife a promise.

“When we are finished speaking with McGreghere, we are going back to the inn,” he whispered, kissing her just below the ear. “Ye can touch me as ye like, and can be certain, if ye wish it, I will do the same.”

The rise and fall of her chest told Tor of the effect his words had on her.

He pulled away suddenly, setting her hands free.

“I . . .” Her voice trembled. “I wish it.”

They were the words he had been waiting for.

Chapter 23

“Good day,” Tor said when a servant opened the door of a small but well-appointed stone manor house. “We seek an audience with Master Elliot McGreghere.”

“If ye would be so kind to leave yer name—”

“Tell him Tor MacRob wishes to speak with him.”

The man’s eyes darted inside, telling them Royce’s friend was nearby. When a man who looked very much like a lawyer stepped to the door, his man stood aside.