The Highlander's Forbidden Mistress - Anna Campbell Page 0,19

afforded him another view of those spectacular legs. "You can do better next time."

He gave a rueful laugh. "I can. I will."

Brock studied her. Her bodice remained buttoned to the neck, all demure modesty. His hands curled into fists on his lap, as the need to see her breasts surged through him. When he got her into bed, he’d keep her there and climaxing until today’s disappointment became a dim memory.

In fact, why wait for the hunting lodge? "Right now," he said.

"Now?" She waved a hand toward where his prick spilled from his open breeches. "Don’t you need time to…"

"There’s more than one way to skin a cat, sweetheart."

To his surprise, sensible, proper Mrs. Martin burst into a fit of enchanting giggles.

***

Selina gained control of her amusement in time to watch her devilish lover tuck himself back into his breeches with a leisurely lack of self-consciousness. Brock was built on impressive lines. She’d known he would be.

When she’d taken him inside her body, she felt like he filled every lonely space in her heart and soul. The effect had been extraordinary. He stretched her more than Roderick ever had, and in a way she couldn’t explain, that powerful claiming had reached beyond the physical realm. Even with the disappointing finish, Brock’s possession offered an emotional sustenance she’d never known before.

She knew he was piqued at losing himself before she found her pleasure. But even that was appealing. Roderick had never cared. Early in their marriage, she’d retained the vague hope that the conjugal act might offer more than a brief and messy penetration. But her husband had been quick to inform her that no wife of his would act the whore. She’d often wondered if Roderick expected his doxies to lie like a log while he grunted and heaved over them.

How would Cecil use her body? Would he show as little genuine interest in her as Roderick had? Some deep feminine instinct warned her that he wanted more than occasional compliance. She hid a shudder at the thought.

"What’s wrong?"

She wasn’t used to a man – to anyone – paying attention to her. "Nothing."

Brock was frowning. "You went from laughing to looking like you contemplated your own hanging."

He wasn’t far wrong. Sometimes she felt like her approaching marriage wasn’t much of an improvement over an execution. But Selina refused to let grim thoughts intrude on this short affair. She had the rest of her life to come to terms with an incompatible husband. "I let my thoughts stray where they shouldn’t."

Brock ran his hand through his hair. "You must be cursing me as a damned impetuous boy, but I really can do better. It’s just that you make me so wild with wanting you. I’m never a greedy lover – but I’m greedy for you. Have you ever had a man’s mouth on your quim?"

"Your mouth?" she stammered, carnal images invading her mind. Her womb clenched as if he already kissed her…down there.

His lips curled in a wolfish smile that made her shiver with anticipation. "Let me make up for my sins against you."

In such a way? She couldn’t imagine it. But his kisses and hands had already stirred her desire to a hectic pitch. When he lost himself on her stomach, she’d barely retreated from the brink. She still wanted a climax.

When his control shattered, he’d awoken a vast tenderness. Brock always seemed a superhuman figure, above the frailties of mere mortals. Knowing that she could destroy the rake’s restraint made her marvel. And preen.

So she found the courage to accept what was about to happen. "What would you like me to do?"

"Sit back and accept the pleasure." The smile intensified. "It’s the least I owe you."

"Should I stay where I am?"

When he considered her with such concentration, her yearning flowered until she trembled. He spoke in a deliberate, thoughtful voice. "Easiest, I think, and no doubt safer, if you balance on the edge of the bench and spread your legs. I’ll kneel in front of you."

Without hesitation, she wriggled around to place her feet flat on the floor of the bumping carriage. She was sinfully conscious that beneath her skirts, she was bare.

Her heart pounded with anticipation as she watched Brock settle on his knees before her. Anticipation and nerves. She’d never considered this as a sensual variation. It seemed bizarre. Bizarre, but breathtakingly exciting. She was mere hours into her descent to ruin. She’d ridden on a man’s lap, and now her lover’s mouth would explore her sex.

Gently