And how much more so.
His tongue teased over her lower lip. She parted her mouth in surprise, and his tongue brushed against hers. This time the sound in the back of her throat was not so small.
He gave a low growl, and his other hand found her waist, drawing her against him as his kiss deepened further still. It was a primal, hungry need that echoed her own lust.
Senseless.
Nay, this wasn’t an absence of senses; it was an explosion of them. Overwhelming in the most decadent way.
Emboldened, she met the stroke of his tongue and arched toward his solid body. Her hand rested on his firm chest, where his heart within pattered with frenzy. Like hers.
She wanted to feel him everywhere, to feed this new, exquisite desire.
He groaned. It was a low, desperate sound that reverberated in his chest and made her skin tingle with goosebumps. His mouth trailed down her jaw to her throat, raining kisses in his wake. Delicate ones, suckling ones, titillating flicks of his tongue over her skin that made her ravenous for more.
She clung to him, moving her body against his in a rhythm she couldn’t control. His hand smoothed up her side to her breast, which he cupped in his palm. His thumb swept over her nipple, where it strained with sensitive eagerness, and her knees nearly buckled.
He held her more tightly, keeping her upright with his powerful strength. Their bodies were so close that the hardness in his trews was evident where it pressed into her belly.
She had enough knowledge of men to know what that meant. But his arousal didn’t repel her. Nay, it made a thrill of pleasure dance through her, that she could drive so handsome a man to such a state.
Her body had become highly alert, making her keenly aware of each touch, kiss, lick. His mouth was on hers again, their breath panting with the same lust, their teeth and lips grinding as their tongues sought to plunge deeper.
He stopped abruptly and rested his forehead to hers.
Kinsey’s heart continued to race, her blood hot with the wondrous sample of lust. She wanted to ask why he’d stopped, to beg him to touch her again, kiss her again.
But she’d already made a fool of herself once by assuming he’d brought her on as his leman. It wouldn’t do to play the part of the wanton now.
“Jesu, Kinsey,” he whispered in a gravelly voice. “I dinna mean to do more than simply kiss ye.”
Her cheeks burned, and her mind spun with the dizzying mix of alcohol and hot, raw lust.
He straightened and gave her a long, lingering look, his eyes bright in the splash of moonlight filtering in through the trees. His chest rose and fell with his frantic breathing.
He wanted her.
Not like the drunkards at the market. He’d had even fewer ales than she. Nay, he wanted her in the simple, sensual way a man yearned for a woman. And she longed for him just as ardently.
He smiled then, the charmer smoothing over his ruffled control. “If ye ever want to challenge me to daggers again, I accept.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She tried to infuse her reply with as much nonchalance as she could muster.
“Shall we return to camp?” he offered her his arm.
It seemed ridiculous to be so formal when they’d just been so familiar.
Especially when it wasn’t his arm that she wanted.
She accepted, nonetheless. This time, however, she noticed the power of his muscled forearm beneath her hand. It was all she could do not to stroke her fingers over his sleeve, to caress his body in any way she could.
The fire that had been set ablaze within her made her crave so much more. Kisses, touches, something—anything—to allay the need throbbing between her legs.
She wanted him so badly, in fact, that she realized she must do everything to discourage him, lest she fall into his bed and headlong into his heart. Such things would be far too dangerous.
“I only kissed ye because of the wager,” she said. “This changes nothing.”
“Dinna worry.” He winked at her. “I dinna assume otherwise.”
She experienced a flash of disappointment at his reassurance but nodded. “Good.”
They arrived back at camp several moments later. A pot hung over the campfire, a grassy scent in the air. Sir William strode to it and ladled a bit out, revealing dripping strands of green-black plants.
“Duff?” He looked up at the stocky man.
“Dandelion leaves and nettles with a bit of squirrel.” Duff puffed his barrel chest out. “Dinna look at me like that. ’Tis good for one’s humors.”
“I’ll take yer word for it.” Sir William let the ladle fall back into the pot.
Duff waved him off.
Kinsey settled by the fire, and Duff regarded her with a raised brow. “Only the two of ye?”
There was an implication in his suspicion. A justified implication.
Her cheeks went hot, and she was grateful he couldn’t witness the extent of her embarrassment. “Aye, the others stayed behind,” she replied with what she hoped was breezy indifference.
For his part, Sir William played as though nothing had happened, laughing and joking with the men who had remained back at camp. As if he hadn’t made something inside her melt, as if the heat of awakened lust weren’t still humming in his veins as it did in Kinsey’s.
She forced herself to join in until she could finally retire for the night.
As soon as she closed her eyes, however, she was inundated with the memory of William’s mouth on hers, the way he’d touched her breast, how his tongue had teased against hers. Hot frustration throbbed at her core. It was a curious sensation that was pleasant and achy all at once.
Regardless, she would do well to stay clear of William, for he was far too tempting.
9
William could not get Kinsey out of
