His cock was fully aroused now, teased into the full staff of lust by the innocent suggestion of her kiss. Her stare settled on his trews, and her lips fell open, her expression impossibly innocent.
He cleared his throat. “I…”
She didn’t move from where she kneeled by his legs. “Did ye like my kiss?”
He’d liked her kiss too much. It made him want more, but not chaste ones like what she had delivered to his scar. Nay, he longed to unfasten the ties of his trews and let his prick spring free. To feel the brush of her breath over his hot skin, the flick of her tongue—
He swallowed and helped her to her feet. “Ye’re a maiden.”
“I’m yer wife.” She tucked her full lower lip into her mouth and slowly let it pop free. “I’m yers to take.”
God help him. His heartbeat came faster at the thought of stripping the robe from her body, revealing those hard, pink nipples he’d been able to make out through the thin fabric of her nightrail.
She bent over him and slid her hands up the back of his neck. “Kiss me,” she whispered.
With a groan, he lifted his head to do as she’d asked. Their lips touched and ignited like blades that clashed and sparked against one another in the heat of combat. Her lips were pillowy soft and warm. He moved his mouth over hers, tasting the ambrosia of her kiss as his tongue brushed the seam of her mouth.
A little moan sounded in the back of her throat and she opened for him, tentatively caressing the tip of her tongue to his.
He gripped the thick wool robe she wore as if it might aid him in holding onto his control. She was so damn lovely, so supple in his hands, beneath his mouth.
His woman. His wife. His to bed. Soon. So very soon.
6
Faye had kissed several men before. Most were chaste kisses, a brief touching of lips, or upon a scruffy cheek for a better price on eggs or other goods that helped keep her family alive and fed.
Once it had been with a man she’d found attractive, a baker’s son who had a honeyed tongue and elicited genuine blushes. It was with him that she’d discovered she enjoyed kissing. Mayhap too much. The rush of desire had frightened her, and she’d never returned.
It was one thing to play a coquette, and quite another to be one.
Now though…
She slanted her mouth over Ewan’s, their tongues mating with eagerness as a sensual fire coursed through her veins like winding silk. She let it consume her and luxuriated in its allure.
This time, she would not have to force herself to stop. This time, that thundering insistence between her thighs could be slaked by more than her hand.
He grabbed her to him with a growl of desire that made her toes curl. This. She wanted this rather than the previous conversation. He was handsome and considerate. Knowing how good he was might pull down the defenses she was not ready to release.
Nay, this was far better. No emotional feeling, only physical lust.
She deepened her kiss with a determination to push the man he was from her thoughts and focus only on how her body responded. In her eagerness, she tilted forward and hovered for a precarious moment before tipping into a fall.
He caught her, his hands at her hips. He guided her downward into his lap. She parted her legs over his chair to avoid kneeing him in the stomach, and the short nightrail rode up over her knees.
The hardness of his arousal pressed into the sensitive place between her thighs, spread open by the way she sat on him. It was brazen and wanton and glorious.
She caught his face between her palms and kissed him hungrily, not bothering to hide the force of her passion, of her need. His hands were still on her hips and now he pulled her forward, so their pelvises bumped against one another. The hardness of him ground against the softness of her.
She gasped in pleasure and moved of her own volition, squirming in his lap to get closer to him, her hands braced on his torso to steady herself. He groaned, and the vibration hummed against her palm. He explored her body, gliding over her robe at first, then under it as he cupped her breast with only the thin linen separating them.
His thumb swept over her nipple, sending a ripple of pleasure over her sensitive skin. He kissed her neck, his breath warm and spicy.
“Do ye like that?” his voice rumbled in her ear.
She swallowed and nodded.
“I want to learn everything about ye.” He caught her earlobe between his teeth in a gentle nip. “What ye like.” He trailed his mouth over her collarbone as his finger curled around the ribbon at her neckline. “What ye want.”
He pulled the ribbon, and the nightrail fell open. “What pleases ye.” He brushed aside the thin cloth and cradled one naked breast in his palm.
“That.” Faye pressed her chest forward, toward his touch.
He lowered his head and drew her nipple into the heat of his mouth.
She closed her eyes against the intensity of such pleasure. “That,” she said again, her voice husky with lust.
His hips lifted as he suckled her breast, so his arousal ground against her. Her eyes flew open with delight.
“Ye please me,” she whispered. “Like this, touching me, kissing me.”
His large hand hovered over her knee, and his blunt fingers swept over her skin as gentle as a breeze. “I want to touch all of ye.”
His fingers slowly crept up her inner thigh, higher and higher. Her breath caught as her muscles trembled with the effort of straining toward him.
Her hem rose up her thighs as he ascended her legs, revealing more and more of her to him until he reached the apex. His gaze lowered to the thatch of blonde hair covering her
