venture to ask.
She nods. “A little.”
We walk in silence all the way down the lane until we come out where the river meets the loch. It is quiet here, although it is not unusual for lads and lasses to get up to mischief a little further along.
Stopping, we sit down on the grassy outcropping that gives views across the lock. Fishing boats are tied off at the jetty at this time of day. They bob gently as a light breeze stirs the water.
“I am sorry,” I say, staring out at the water glistening in the early evening sun.
“About the Halket lass?” she asks.
“A lot of things,” I say. “About spanking you when I was angry, for one.”
“You should not spank a lass when angry,” she agrees. Then her face turns a pretty shade of pink. “Although, I do not mind spanking so much, even so.”
“You don’t?” the words come out unnaturally high in pitch.
She shrugs, grinning impishly as she turns to face the loch. “We will need to try it again to be sure.”
Fuck!
“I want to kiss you, Jessa,” I say. “I want to kiss you more than I want my next breath.”
“Okay,” she says.
Fuck! I have never been this nervous about a kiss in my life. Leaning in, I cup her cheeks and press my lips to hers.
“That was not a proper kiss,” she says as I lift my head.
“What do you know about proper kissing?” I say, frowning.
“What do you know about proper kissing?” she counters.
Chuckling, I lean up. “Little brat,” I mutter without heat. “You know I want to toss you over my lap and spank your bottom when I think of you kissing another man. Best you tell me who it is so I can thump them instead.”
“I have never kissed a lad before,” she says, surprising me.
I have no rights to Jessa, nor to be jealous of her kissing another man. That she has agreed to walk with me this evening and allowed me to kiss her is all the claim I have. Yet I am staggered that such a pretty lass has never kissed before.
“But I saw you once in the old barn with a lass,” she continues. “And it was a different sort of kissing.”
The fuck?
Her face flushes again.
My face heats, too, and my throat becomes unnaturally tight. “I was only kissing her?”
When she doesn’t answer, blood begins thumping in my temple. She doesn’t sound angry about whatever the fuck I was doing, only curious. Turning, I catch hold of her chin. “Jessa, do you want me to kiss you like that?”
She nods. “And the other stuff.”
“Fuck!” I groan, feeling a little sick but also hard at the thoughts of her seeing me with another lass. Mostly sick. “Other stuff?”
“I don’t know exactly what it was for I could not see,” she says, her eyes never leaving mine. “But you were touching her under her skirt, and she liked it.”
I swallow.
“She liked it very much, and I was so jealous that it wasn’t me.”
Gods, I hate myself all over again for making her feel jealous. I want to give her everything, all the pleasure, all the kisses, both the sweet ones and the hot, dirty ones.
This time when my lips meet hers, she emits a small groan. She parts beneath me, and her tongue lifts to touch mine. I’m lost. She is like feasting on moon-berries, and I feel fucking drunk on her bold response. Her small hand tangles in my hair, and she grips like she doesn’t want me to leave. Our mouths move over each other with an instinctive rhythm that lacks the awkwardness of a lass new to kissing. My heart thuds wildly and my dick is so hard that I swear I could use it as a hammer.
She groans, and her fingers tighten. I need to stop before I rut the lass on the shore of the loch where anyone might pass. The thought of her father nailing my balls to the barn wall helps me to get the urge under control.
Dragging my mouth from hers, I suck in a gusty breath.
“Brandon,” she mumbles, pressing kisses to my throat that stoke the flames higher. “The other stuff. You owe me the other stuff.”
Capturing a handful of her hair, I gently tug, bringing her franticness to a stop.
“Not today, Jessa,” I say, pressing my forehead to hers. “Your father is barely comfortable with me talking to you, let alone kissing… and the other stuff.”
“But I want it,” she says softly,