Seducing the Highlander (34 page)

Probably, but she just didn’t care.

Adain
had
said he wanted her, after all, and certainly she wanted him.

Surely she was just sparing him the trouble of immediately removing her nightdress.

The latch lifted and the slight sound made her heart suddenly pound. Tall and dark, he stepped into the room. When he saw her bared shoulders above the drawn-up blanket, he gave her a heated look of entirely male approval. His hands went to unlace his shirt.

“I see you read my mind.” His grin was a flash of white teeth in the dim room.

“Hardly,” she countered. “You made your wishes clear enough earlier. No insight was involved or needed.”

“So you are obedient, then?” He pulled off his shirt. “I’ve heard Englishwomen can be difficult. Perhaps you seek to disprove the notion.”

He was teasing her, and she loved the slow warmth of his smile.

She loved
him
.

Well, two could play that game. Very slowly, she eased the sheets downward and first exposed her breasts, already tight with desire, her nipples hard as jewels. She arched her back slightly, thrusting them upward. He made a small sound as he stared, and his shirt flew carelessly across the room as he tossed it away.

The sheets slid down her rib cage and stomach, and then past her hips as her pubic hair was exposed. Gillian wiggled a little as she bared her body, and finally the entirety of the bedclothes were pushed toward the foot of the bed.

Her husband sat down to tug off his boots with a rough impatience that fired her overwhelming need.

She spread her legs apart, letting him see the most intimate part of her body, exposing her wet, soft sex.

“Perfect,” he murmured. “Show me more.”

It was a decadent request, but she felt quite decadent. Decadently happy, decadent in complete sexual need.

Her thighs parted as far as she could open them.

“I’ll be right there, my lovely wife.”

There was little doubt he was as ready as she was, if not more. He jerked down his breeches and exposed his erection, the springing magnificent length of it a promise of pleasure and completion. Nude, beautiful, with an almost ferocious expression on his handsome face, he joined her on the bed and at once moved over her, rubbing between her labia with the tip of his cock, smearing the crest with the fluids of her arousal.

His entrance was a forceful thrust, and she absorbed his entire length gladly, the sensation exactly what she needed. They mated, absorbed in each other and the glorious union of their bodies, his need as primitive as he had warned her it would be. Gillian found completion twice before he climaxed, his powerful body shuddering over and into her, the forceful spurt of his seed accompanied by his groan of satisfaction.

Afterward, they floated together, arms locked around each other, and she felt grateful and triumphant that her life had taken such an unexpected turn.

Her husband finally lifted his head and tenderly skimmed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “That was a little impetuous. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“You would never hurt me.”

“That shows a great deal of faith.”

She looked at him from under the veil of her lashes. “Not so much. You are a good man. I knew it the minute I saw you. Besides, you are remarkably easy to read.”

“Am I?” He nuzzled her neck with his warm mouth, and she shivered in enjoyment. “What am I thinking now?”

Dared she hope he would say the words? He’d been wounded before, and all scars, even when a person healed, remained.

“That you think I am not too much of a bad bargain for an English waif you had to rescue on a deserted road.”

“Ah, you are not as insightful as you think you are.” Adain kissed her gently and looked into her eyes. “Try again, lass.”

Gillian responded in a hushed voice of pure joy, “Perhaps . . . something very wonderful?”

“Such as?”

“Adain,” she finally said reproachfully, “if you wish to say something, say it yourself.”

“It’s difficult,” he admitted after a moment, still stroking her back. “The last time I felt this way about a woman, I lost her.”

“
I
am here to stay.” Gillian touched his cheek and added teasingly, “Unless, of course, you tire of me and wish for me to—”

“Never,” he said in a growl. “I love you and you are mine, wife.”

Never
sounded perfect, Gillian thought in joyous contentment as she rested in his possessive embrace.

Emma Wildes
grew up loving books, so turning to writing seemed a natural course. She has been a #1 bestselling author at Fiction-wise, a WisRWA winner in historical romance, a Lories winner, a Passionate Plume winner, and a first-place Eppie winner for best erotic historical romance. She lives in rural Indiana with her husband, three children, and a menagerie of pets. You can keep tabs on Emma at
www.emmawildes.com
.