Scot to the Touch (The Hots for Scots #7) - Caroline Lee Page 0,44

then back down, until both hands were circling her waist, his thumbs making little movements which made her breath catch.

“Let me get this straight…” When he spoke, she felt his voice rumble through his chest, the little vibrations causing her nipples to harden. “ ’Twas ye in my bed that night?”

She closed her eyes again on a little whimper of yearning as his large hands cupped her arse, pulling her pelvis against his. She could feel his hardness pressing against his kilt, and she ached to gyrate against it.

But she forced herself to remain still in penance.

“ ’Twas ye who snuck through the secret passages, who removed yer clothes, who climbed atop me, who fooked me cross-eyed?”

Blessed Virgin, it sounded so…so dirty when he said it like that. And her breath caught in her throat as his fingers began kneading at her arse.

“ ’Twas ye I’ve been unable to stop thinking about?” One of his hands rose, fingertips dragging across her arm and then her breasts. “Ye who’s made me vow to change my life as I ken it?”

She lifted her chin and opened her eyes. “Wh–what?” she whispered around a shiver of yearning.

His hand closed around her breast, and she jerked against him with need, but he held her gaze.

“I was ready to marry yer sister after that night. I was ready to marry her, because of the unimaginable pleasure I’d found myself the night before.” His thumb brushed against her nipple peaked under the linen of her chemise. “I’ve never experienced anything as good as that night, Kat, but kenning she didnae want to marry me…”

He shook his head and guilt stabbed through her desire.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped, yet again.

“But in the daylight, ‘twas ye I was thinking about. ‘Twas ye I wanted to spend time with, ‘twas ye who fascinated me. The MacKinnon sister I wasnae supposed to want. Nae one even told me of ye before ye arrived, Kat.”

He pinched her nipple, and she arched into his touch. “I’m–I’m no’ the marriageable MacKinnon sister,” she gasped. “Ye werenae supposed to–to like me!”

“But I do, Katlyn,” he growled, and she swore she could feel his voice all the way down in her core. “I do like ye. I want to be with ye. I was willing to marry yer sister because of what we’d shared, but ‘twas ye I was thinking of!”

Giving into the urge, she flexed her hips against his, and when the long length of his manhood pressed into the nub of her pleasure, they both moaned.

“St. Columba’s blessed heart, love!” The words exploded out of him at the same time he burst into movement.

Before she could catch her breath, he’d wrapped his hands around her waist, pushed himself upright, and whirled them both until her back was pressed against the stone wall. She didn’t have time to react. One moment she was in his arms, near delirious from need, and the next…

He planted one hand beside her head against the stone and lowered his head, until his lips were right beside hers. “ ’Twas ye who made me ache, Kat,” he murmured, reaching for her again. He flattened a palm against her hip, then dragged it around to her heated core. “I thought of ye as I touched myself, wondered what it would feel like to plunge into ye here.” He cupped her, and she moaned. “I kenned how yer sister felt, but ye…”

“ ’Twas me,” she managed, squirming against his touch. “ ’Twas me.”

“I ken that now. St. Columba’s tits, ye’re already wet for me, are ye no’?”

He sounded reverent, and she raised her chin to meet his eyes. “Always,” she whispered defiantly, and he groaned.

When he lowered his lips to hers, she wrapped her arms around his neck. This kiss was heat and weight and desperation and had her gyrating against his cupped hand.

Except, somehow, he’d managed to raise the hem of her chemise, and his fingers were stroking her damp heat. She moaned against his mouth as he dragged first one, then two fingers through her aching core. When he plunged into her, and the palm of his hand found the nub where she most needed the pressure, her knees buckled.

“Aye, like that, love,” he whispered harshly, his lips finding her jaw, and then her neck. Her head tipped back against the stone, and she held onto his shoulders, feeling the pleasure building inside her. “Fook my hands, Katlyn. Show me what ye like.”

What she liked? Saints preserve her, she liked