tugged off his boots and hose until they stood barefoot before one another. He uncharacteristically tossed his plaid on the nearby chair, not usually so careless with it. In just his leine, which hung to his mid-thigh, Brodie eased Laurel’s sleeves from her arms, dropping petal-soft kisses on her neck and shoulders. Her head lolled from side to side as she reveled in the exquisite sensations Brodie created from his kisses and the knowledge that he was stripping her bare. She caught his mouth as Brodie pushed her skirts down over her hips. Left in only her chemise, Brodie lifted Laurel until her legs came around his waist, her chemise and his leine the only barrier to their bodies joining.
Laurel knew Brodie carried her toward the fireplace, but she felt as though she floated. His powerful hands gripped her thighs as she locked her ankles behind his back. Kneeling with ease, Brodie lowered Laurel to the floor and kissed the tip of her nose.
“Wait here,” he whispered before gathering the pillows from the bed, the cushions from the two chairs, and his plaid. Laurel smiled and reached for the items, setting about making them a nest while Brodie lit a fire. When it roared in the fireplace, Brodie turned back to Laurel. He fought the urge to maul her. Laurel lay bare against the pillow, Brodie’s plaid spread beneath her. Brodie stood staring a moment too long because Laurel shifted nervously. It spurred him into action, reminding himself to be gentle. Brodie whipped his leine over his head and tossed it aside as carelessly as he had his plaid. He came to lie beside Laurel, his hand cupping her jaw before sliding along her neck, then trailing his fingertips over her chest, her tightening nipple, along her belly, and to her waist. He continued his lazy exploration as his hand swept over her hip and thigh before the back of his hand brushed against the thatch of strawberry curls at the juncture of her thighs. His palm slid up her belly until he scooped her breast and brought his head to her nipple. His tongue swirled the peak as he observed Laurel. She watched him with heavy-lidded eyes, her breaths coming in short, deep pants.
“Touch me, Laurie,” Brodie instructed. He witnessed the relief on Laurel’s face as she lifted one hand to his shoulder while the other ran over his other shoulder and upper back before drifting over his chest. Her warm palm rested over his defined pectoral, feeling the thud of Brodie’s racing heartbeat, letting her know that he, too, was excited. She drew her nails over his ribs, making him squirm for a moment. She raised an eyebrow and smiled mischievously, storing that revelation for another time.
As Laurel’s hand rested on his chiseled backside, taut muscles bunched beneath her palm, Brodie drew Laurel closer. He lifted her leg over his hip, bringing his cock to her seam. Laurel didn’t know how to describe the sound she made. It was part whimper, part moan, a bit of a sigh, and most definitely a gasp. Whatever it was, Brodie understood it. Sensing her need, he rocked his hips against her as his fingers skimmed the inside of her thighs.
Laurel shivered, wishing she could climb inside Brodie, where the furnace that was his body would surely keep her warm. But her core ached for Brodie to slide inside her. She moved her hips in unison to Brodie’s, his groan telling her he wanted to join their bodies as much as she did.
“Laurel, do ye ken what will happen? Can ye tell?” Brodie was too intent upon pleasing Laurel to consider his courtly accent.
“Aye, Brodie. Yer cock will go inside ma sheath. Can ye soon?” Laurel closed her eyes as she asked her question.
“Look at me, Laurie.” Brodie waited until her blue hazel eyes met his gray ones. They reminded him of the glassy waters of Loch Awe, the body of water his home overlooked. “Do ye ken it might nae feel vera good at first?”
“I ken. But if I lie still it will pass, and ye will be done,” Laurel answered.
“Och, it will pass, but I dinna want ye to lie still, and I have nay intention of being done that soon,” Brodie grinned as his fingertips dipped within her seam. Laurel’s hips bucked forward at the familiar sensation. Her fingers bit into his shoulder and bicep as she moaned. “Do ye like that?”
“Ye ken I do,” Laurel panted.
“Laurie, what we