The Highlander's Forbidden Mistress - Anna Campbell Page 0,50

He hated that his conscience, so quiet through his adult life, awoke now.

"I’d love that," she said fervently.

"But if the child looks like me…"

"I’d love that, too."

He frowned, even as his unruly appetites urged him to accept her offer before she thought better of it. Most of his life, he’d been at the mercy of those appetites. Selina tugged on his desire more than any other woman ever had. But she also called on his heart and mind in a way unheralded in his reckless, selfish existence. "What about Cecil?"

Tears glittered in her eyes, and she bucked her hips toward him with an insistence that smashed through him like cannon fire. "Don’t talk about Cecil." Her voice broke as she went on. "In fact, don’t talk at all, damn you."

He couldn’t help settling deeper into her body. The effort of holding back became agonizing. "But you…"

Eyes bright with tears bored into his, as though she struggled to drill all the way to his soul. If she did manage to catch a glimpse of that unimpressive entity, she’d find her own reflection looking back at her. "Please, Brock. Please."

Knowing it was wrong, knowing he might cause her untold damage – Cecil wouldn’t take kindly to a cuckoo in his nest – Brock couldn’t resist her pleading. Nor could he resist the prospect of giving himself to her in the most profound way he knew.

After a brief, hard kiss, he began to move once more. It wasn’t long before his crisis built, flooding his head with dark heat. The rush started at the soles of his feet and flowed up his legs and focused on his aching balls.

Brock lifted his head from where he’d buried it in her shoulder. He needed to see Selina’s face when he gave himself into her keeping as he never had before.

She looked strained and on edge. Her eyes were heavy with the rise of her own climax, and her lips were satiny and full, parted to allow him a glimpse of her small white teeth.

He shifted again and watched her expression change to triumph as she crossed the barrier into feminine ecstasy. Then thought deserted him entirely. His muscles contracted in a wild spasm, and his seed spurted into her womb.

She cried out and dug her fingernails into his shoulders. The sting became yet another part of the incandescence. He moved over her, until he’d given her every ounce of the man he was.

It had been a week of unsurpassed pleasure. But nothing had prepared him for this blazing union when Selina became his blood and his bone and his flesh. She might leave him in the morning, but somewhere in eternity, they were united forever.

As he slumped over her in a haze of satiation he’d never felt before, she wrapped her arms around him. "Thank you, Brock," she said in a choked voice.

Chapter 10

Selina stirred from a restless doze with a premonition of looming disaster. She was sprawled across Brock, one arm crooked on his chest and her leg flung over his. It was as if even lost in oblivion, she couldn’t bear the idea of letting him go.

"Oh, no," she gasped.

With a gentle hand, Brock smoothed the tangled hair away from her face. "What’s wrong?"

She jerked away to sit up and stare down at him in horror. "I went to sleep."

The fire had burned low and the candles guttered, but there was enough light for her to see his tender smile. "You were tired."

She’d been silly with exhaustion. After that unprecedented moment when he’d filled her with his seed and she felt like the world exploded in a conflagration of light, they’d lain together in perfect communion, only talking now and again. Accepting his essence into her body had been a transcendent experience, one she’d treasure as long as she lived.

After a while, he’d begun to touch her, giving her another climax with his hand. She’d used her mouth on him again. That time, he lost himself between her breasts. Then, plague take her, she’d fallen asleep.

"But I don’t want to waste a moment." A horrid fear twisted her stomach. "Is it time for us to go?"

With a late sunrise and the curtains drawn, it was impossible to know how late it was. If she frittered away her last minutes at this house in sleep, she’d never forgive herself.

Rolling over, he lifted his pocket watch from the bedside table. He clicked it open and angled it toward the fire so he could see the