A rather possessive, unhealthy desire to control me. She stepped out, paused in front of him, and tilted her head. “I suppose I should have left a note taped to my door?”
Her words in another woman’s mouth would’ve sounded aggressive. In hers, the question sounded genuine.
“Aye, ye should have,” he said a bit too roughly, annoyed with her stubbornness, but he far preferred Laetitia’s veiled defiance than the wounded creature he’d glimpsed yesterday. And yet, he didn’t restrict his words or the turbulence on his face.
She almost looked down. Almost. But she didn’t feel threatened by him—never had. Instead, her lips thinned in a line, and she raised her chin.
They glared at one another in silence.
She was surprised that visible sparks didn’t fly from the undercurrent of challenge and lust around them.
“I don’t like to be left wondering and waiting.” Tavish invaded her personal space and slid his hand through her hair, tugging until she yielded and let her head fall back. “Next time, you’d better answer my calls or at least let me know where ye are going.”
That dominating side of him aroused her. But she decided it was time to explain a few things to him. Mimicking his accent, she said, “Nae, I will no’.”
Her imitation was so perfect that if he wasn’t so turned on by this new side of her, he would have laughed. “Laetitia, it’s not funny. You should have—”
She entwined her fingers in his hair and pulled his head down gently. A breath away from his lips, she said, “Let me clarify: just because we’ve spent a passionate night together doesn’t mean you can say ‘jump’ and I’ll say, ‘Aye, Master, how high?’”
This new fire she kept hidden under her smooth voice and polite behavior was a turn-on that took his mind away from what he wanted to say. He shook his head, more irritated. “It would be a good start.”
She released his head and met his stare, wanting him to understand she was serious, but her voice came out in that sweet way of hers. “It would be. Now, would you please get off me?”
Nae. It’ll not please me. He couldn’t resist her; his mind and body were reacting with a savage speed he was not used to. His hand pulled her hard against his frame, and he pressed against her. “Are you defying me, Laetitia?”
She didn’t know exactly what she was doing—was she provoking, teasing, or seducing him? She decided not to give him a chance to consider the possibility of her bowing to his will. She wriggled herself out of his arms and wedged around him.
“No, Barbarian. I’m merely expressing my desires,” she said over her shoulder, towing her bicycle to the back of her house—just to stop dead in her tracks. Oh. My. God.
The wood table in her back garden was covered with a pristine white tablecloth set for two, with different kinds of breads, cheeses, pies, and desserts, and an ice bucket filled with juices and a bottle of champagne, and a huge and craftily done bouquet of snowdrops. To complete the romantic scene, an enormous and thick tartan was spread on the grass, with pillows over it.
She could bet few women could brag of such a thing.
He took the bicycle from her hands and propped it on its kickstand. His big hands on her shoulders pulled her against his chest. “Do you like it?”
Enchanted and completely disarmed by his attitude, she nodded and unconsciously melted against him.
He pushed her hair to the side and nipped the side of her neck sharply before exploring the sensitive curve of her throat. “You were about to tell me your desires, Little Elf. Care to be explicit?”
She stiffened and breathed, unsure, “Stop, Tavish Uilleam. I—I asked you to get off me—”
He bit her again, this time on her earlobe. “I heard you the first time, my delicate snowdrop.”
“Stop. You’re doing that on purpose,” she whispered.
At her soft, accusing tone, he laughed, the sound a low rumbling against her neck. “I wouldn’t be much of a lover if I did it by accident.”
“You’re not my lover,” she said, dryly.
And here we go again. He whirled her in his arms to meet her guarded gaze. “Do you object to the concept or the term?”
“Both. I’m no one’s lover.”
“Ah, I see.” His gaze dipped down to where her jacket had opened and her budded nipples pressed against her shirt. “But I am. I am your lover. Yours alone.” Or I intend to be.
Don’t press, Barbarian, don’t press. The whole scenario he had prepared was so romantic it made her forget why she shouldn’t be engaging in word fighting him. She should be hearing his apologies for his rudeness or plainly ignoring him because of it. “But I don’t want you to be my lover.”
Amused, he watched her face as indecision wedged its way in as she battled her feelings. But it was in his serious voice, heavily accented, that he said, “You’re lying, Laetitia. But I’ll indulge ye. You can give our relationship whatever name ye wish. In the end, it’s just semantics. Boyfriend, partner, whatever—as long as you’re mine tae pamper and cosset.”
She felt as if he had punched her. Air escaped her lungs as the never-fulfilled, forever-denied, feral need to belong, to feel loved, stirred inside her—emotions she had suppressed for such a long time she forgot what they felt like.
Her eyes sparkled violet with emotions he couldn’t identify.
But she could.
A long time ago, she’d shoved them under the tall and heavy pile of rubble made of distress and unhappiness, and now they were crawling out from under it, poking and awakening her creative industry of expectations. It made her react to protect herself. “You’re so damned arrogant to think I need to be pampered or cosseted.”
“Not arrogant. I prefer confident,” he corrected, slowly lowering his head to kiss her. “Besides, it’s not a question of what you need but of what I want to give you.”
She pushed against Tavish’s chest.
He was stunned not only by the gesture but also by the shadow of anger and pain that came over her face and found himself retreating a step. When he realized what he’d done, he stopped.
But that ever-so-insignificant act granted her a sense of control she had never had before. A control she wanted to start exerting in the same minute. She got within inches of his face and poked her finger hard into his chest. “I don’t want a control freak. I don’t want a lover.” I don’t know what I want.
He was so unbelievably turned on he forgot why he was there or why they needed to talk.
What is this woman doing to me? After the night he’d had, he couldn’t believe his mind could wander. What the hell is wrong with me?
For the space of a few heart-pounding moments, they just stared at each other. She in confused fury; he in confused lust.
Then his desire turned his world upside down. Unable to resist the lure of the petite blonde woman, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her with the full force of the passion he’d been holding in the entire day and night before.
He was planning on apologizing, showing her she could trust him and let him be in control when the situation arose, not on ravishing her. However, once his lips were connected with hers, he forgot his agenda. His hands ran down her back to grip her luscious behind and pull her up tight against his fully aroused body. Oh, hell.
She pummeled him in the chest for about two seconds. Her body surrendered when it connected with his, not giving her mind time to question what he was playing at. She threw her arms around his neck and held on tight, as he seemed to devour her whole. His hand continued to grip her tightly, lifting her completely off the ground, and then he turned, pressing her back up against the wall and his hard arousal against her soft stomach.
She would be a tender, giving lover, just as he’d always preferred. Not that he was against kinky. No. He even liked some change once in a while.
Since yesterday, there was a curiosity prowling his mind, insisting on pushing Laetitia past all boundaries.
And today, this wonder was kindled to a spa
rkling desire. There was something underneath that calm façade of hers begging to erupt, to be set free, and if he didn’t push too hard, she would open herself and cede to his trust and control.
A moan of appreciation escaped her throat, sending Tavish to a whole new level of desire, which spiraled as a white-hot, all-consuming pleasure, bypassing his brain and setting his body up in flames.
He ground his hips against her, trying to relieve the intense pressure on his manhood. He desired her so much that if she came to her senses and told him to stop, he thought he might die right there on the spot. He tangled his tongue with hers as his large hands massaged her buttocks. The fit was so perfect that it made him squeeze harder, and in one single motion, he lifted her onto his shoulder in a caveman way, ignoring her startled squeak, and in a split second, he was kneeling on the tartan and rolling Laetitia off his shoulder onto his lap.
He frantically pushed her coat off her shoulders and arms and hiked up her long-sleeved shirt from the waistband of her jeans with one ruthless tug.
Her soft hair cascaded down her shoulders and over her breasts, the sweet honeysuckle scent drifting around him in erotic tendrils of passion and delicacy.
Matching his urge, she unzipped and pulled off his twill-weaved shirt and tossed it aside, not caring where it landed. She tenderly slid her fingers through his hair to his shoulder, giving her leverage to kiss him.
His hands roamed over her skin, and he unclasped her bra, cupping her breasts. His breathing grew heavier when he leaned her on the pillows and started to press down on her.
Her palms splayed flat on his chest. Meeting his sea-green gaze, she demanded, “Do you feel better now that you got to play macho man?”
His hands remained on her slender hips, his gaze scanning the pale beauty of her face. “Aye. I do. And you, do you like my macho-man ways?”
In the depths of her violet-blue eyes smoldered a hunger Laetitia couldn’t disguise. And yet, he could bet this tiny, infuriatingly calm woman would rather bite her own tongue than admit she liked his controlling ways. As if to prove his point, she gave a toss of her head.
Stubborn woman. A wicked smile curved his lips as he reared back on his knees and unbuttoned her jeans slowly, waiting for her to complain. He didn’t want her later claiming he’d forced her into anything. However, no word came from her parted mouth but a gasp when he yanked them off.
The day before, in the shaded hotel room, Tavish hadn’t gotten to see her curves clearly, and he was taking full advantage of the daylight to visually drink in the sight of her body. She was not only the most gorgeous woman he’d made love to but also the most bewitching, the most tempting; every single secret inch of her begged to be explored. “You’re exquisite.”
He stood to more easily shed his clothes and, after, stood looking at her for a moment, drinking in the sight and relishing what he was about to experience.
With a flare of anticipation, Laetitia watched as he towered over her in all his naked glory, scars scattered over him, his broad shoulders tapering down to his slender waist, his erection standing proudly over thick, muscled thighs, like a warrior god of old.
The skin crinkled around his eyes. He was smiling, ever so slightly. Something had just happened, something she had missed. If only she could think, she would be able to reason it out, but there was no rational thought in her mind right at that moment. Unable to resist, Laetitia welcomed him to her body with an outstretched hand. “Tavish.”
An intense and determined look came over his face when he finally lay over her, skin to skin. His body was so on fire that it had to be burning her. “You can’t imagine how much I want you, Laetitia.”
He cupped her face with his large, long-fingered hands, angling her head and taking her mouth in a hard kiss, probing more forcefully with his tongue, deeper, compelling her to open wider.
Her shocked gasp was muffled by his demanding mouth. If she had any sense left, she ought to have been frightened. Instead, she yielded completely to his control, her nipples pebbling painfully and heat twisting through her insides.
Threading his fingers through her hair, he tightened his hold and pulled her head back. His gaze kept locked with hers, yet the broken kiss hit her with a sense of loss so intense that she felt disorientated and unfulfilled.
She arched her body toward him. “More.”
Intoxicating. Innocent and eagerness weaved together. And mine to possess. In his veins, blood turned to lava. He trailed his tongue along the smooth column of her throat, realizing how quickly her heart was pounding and feeling his own skip a beat. He let go off her hair to touch the softness of her skin, his hand roving from her breasts down to her calves and back up again.
His mouth moved down to her left breast, where he discovered two little scars. He wondered briefly how she got them, but it wasn’t the time to ask.
He took her tightened nipple deep in his mouth, sucking it in sharp pulls, cupping her other breast and kneading it not so gently. His desire was spiraling to new heights.
“Yes,” she moaned over and over, gripping his head and holding it close to her body. “More.”
Without them noticing, Tavish had shaken her mind’s defenses, and she had given him control over her body’s reactions.
He switched to the other side, giving her other breast equal attention, before continuing his journey down.
She boldly gripped his hair and raised her hips, undulating as the movement could help her ease some of the tension inside her.
Her reaction drove him mad, and after a brief lick over her navel, he buried his face on her and his tongue inside her, eyes glued to her face, mesmerized by her aroused expression.
“Ah. There.” Laetitia gasped out loud and bucked on his mouth, writhing on his face. “Right there.”
She didn’t recognize this uninhibited woman who stated what she liked. However, as liquid warmth pooled in her lower pelvis, all she could do was moan.
“Lovely,” he rumbled, as he spread her pink flesh and deepened his tongue inside her.
She pulled his hair so hard he thought she would rip it out, but the pain just made him more determined to show her pleasure.
She was on fire. She moaned again as his fingers slid deep into her, first one, then two. Slid and swirled. It was as if he had her entire body, her entire being, in the palm of his hand. Literally. His to control. His to pleasure. She pressed herself against his hand, to take him in deeper. Her breath came in gasps, all of her being focused on his fingers. On the feelings he stirred. The pulsing took over her body and made her breathless. “I—I . . . I’m going—”
“Shh, no’ yet.” He was dangerously aroused and unable to think about anything other than sinking deep inside her tightness. “We’re not doing it like this today.”
“Anyway you want.” Laetitia almost took the words back when she saw the lust burning in his turbulent eyes.
He opened a condom and rolled it over his erection. His massive body loomed over her, his muscles tight, from his tensed neck to the sharp indentations of his chest, leading to his waist, groin, and thighs and then he settled himself on her body. His forehead dropped to her shoulder, his breathing harried, as he ran his tongue on her neck. “Are you ready for a wild ride?”
“Why don’t we do the slow climbing first?” she whispered.
He rubbed his hard member along her folds, lubricating himself. “Like that?”
Her heart felt like it was going to explode in her chest. She was not sure she could take more of that torture. “Oh, God! Forget slow.”
“Spread your legs,” he hissed, barely holding himself from taking her with no finesse. She was so wet and hot he couldn’t play any longer; he wanted to be inside her in one plunge. He didn’t think he was ready to be gentle right now. With a mighty motion of his hips, he thrust.
She gasped, her nails dug in his skin, and her eyes snapped open. His size was intimidating. “You are too . . .”
“Too intense?” he grunted in a bi
ttersweet agony. She was so unbelievable tight that just the head of his arousal was inside her. He locked his jaws, grabbed her waist, and drove firmly into her again.
She whispered, “Too broad.”
He felt her adjusting herself beneath him, yet he needed more space. He pulled one of her knees to her chest and leaned his torso against her leg. He placed his free hand low on her belly and thumbed her clitoris. Slow. Take this slow. “Relax.”
His lips crushed hers with a thoroughness that took her breath away. He kissed her as he did everything else he set his mind to, full of passion, hot and hard. A man who knew what he wanted and went for it, without thought.
She didn’t recognize herself, but she couldn’t stop kissing him back—couldn’t stop greedily offering herself—arching, writhing to bring him closer, rubbing her hands all over his taut muscles and small scars and feeling the way in which he possessively worked his large hands over her body, and for a moment, it was as if she were staring down at the two of them.
He threw his head back, the muscles of his neck strained, his control slipping. She moaned and writhed under him in bliss, and just like that, he was lost. With a firm shove, he drove himself all inside her.
“Fuck it,” he rasped, pushing himself against her leg, spreading her wider, and plunging again, deeper.
She gasped, not expecting the hard plunge and the way her body stretched to fit him, much less the strong spasm that shook her.
“Oh, yes. God. Don’t stop.” Startled by her own reaction, she clutched at him, and her tongue dove into his mouth, tangling with his.
He should be doing this slowly, but he was past thinking, diving harder into her.
Every time she thought he couldn’t go deeper, he thrust more powerfully, making her cry out in surprise. When his rhythm turned furious, and his thumb circled her quicker with increasing pressure, she fought the pleasure, wanting it to last. “Tavish. I’m going . . .”
“I’m here to catch you.” He felt her body tense as she approached her release, and kept it at bay. Her eyes closed; her gasps and moans filled the air. “Doona fight it.”