Medieval 02 - Forbidden

Amber as the intimate rush of his breath caressing her fingertips.
    “You like that,” she said, delighted at the discovery.
    Duncan’s breath caught as another caress skimmed his lip, sending a tongue of fire through him.
    “Aye,” he said huskily. “I like that. Do you?”
    “Like touching you? Yes. Too much, I fear.”
    “There is no place for fear between us.”
    The rush of Duncan’s breath was replaced by the smooth heat of his mouth against Amber’s. He felt the hesitation in her.
    Then he felt the subtle yielding as she allowed the kiss. His heartbeat speeded as fire searched through his body.
    Yet Duncan did no more than increase the pressure of his mouth on hers just a bit. It was barely enough to part Amber’s lips for a skimming caress from the tip of his tongue. But it was enough tomake her sigh and yield more of her mouth to the gentle kiss. Again he delicately traced her lips.
    “Duncan,” Amber whispered. “You are…”
    His tongue moved again, this time more deeply.
    Breath and words caught in Amber’s throat. The gliding caress along the sensitive inner side of her lips was as delicate as a butterfly’s wing. If she hadn’t been touching Duncan, she would have thought that he was as gentle as a butterfly, too.
    But she was touching him. She felt the banked heat of his fiery hunger. The contrast between his actions and his intense need should have frightened her.
    Instead, it beguiled her as no caress could have.
    “Truly I am safe with you,” Amber whispered.
    “Always, my golden witch. I would sooner cut off my own sword hand than harm you.”
    When Duncan’s arms eased around her, Amber made no move to withdraw. He lifted and settled her across his thighs with a slow movement that was also a caress, telling her that he was frankly savoring her warm weight in his lap.
    “Open my mantle and put your hands inside,” Duncan said softly.
    Amber hesitated.
    “Do you not want to share my warmth?” he asked.
    “I’m afraid to.”
    Duncan’s eyelashes lowered. The sadness that went through him drew a low cry from Amber.
    “You don’t trust me,” he said. “What did I do to you in the past that you so fear me now? Did I force myself on you?”
    “Nay,” she whispered.
    Then she whispered it again and again, torn by his uncertainty and grief, the wound to his self-esteem that she did not believe his vow that she was safe with him.
    She couldn’t bear to hurt him so.
    Unbidden, Amber’s hands slid into the opening of Duncan’s mantle. With a need she couldn’t conceal, she fought through clothing until she could feel once more the living heat of his naked skin against her own. The small consummation drew a low cry from the back of her throat.
    Baffled, Duncan looked at Amber’s closed eyes and taut features as she experienced the textures of his body. When he realized that simply touching his naked skin was such a keen pleasure for her, he was both shaken and violently aroused.
    “Amber?”
    “Yes,” she whispered. “It is myself I fear, not you.”
    She lowered her head against Duncan until her breath could bathe what her fingers were caressing.
    “It is myself…”
    Her whisper merged with the heat of her mouth against Duncan’s throat. A current of fire ripped through him. The feel of Amber’s tongue caressing his skin was so sweet and unexpected that it made him groan.
    “Every touch I give you, even the least…” Amber whispered.
    Her tongue stroked Duncan as delicately as a cat’s. His whole body tightened in response.
    “See?” she whispered. “I touch you and you burn. I feel you burning and I burn as well. Then I touch you again and the flames leap higher.”
    “By God’s holy blood,” Duncan said hoarsely, finally understanding the source of Amber’s fear. “ You want me as much as I want you .”
    Her smile was bittersweet. She let out a ragged breath.
    “Nay, Duncan. I want you more. Your desire and my own combined.”
    “That’s why you’re afraid?”
    “Yes. I fear…this.”
    Again Amber touched Duncan’s flesh with the tip of her tongue, savoring the taste and warmth of his body, the smooth texture, and most of all the rapid, heavy beating of his blood just beneath his skin.
    “Don’t fear it,” Duncan said, his voice low and almost rough. “Passion such as this is a gift from God.”
    She laughed sadly. “Is it? Is it a gift to see Paradise from afar, and know that you must never enter?”
    One of Duncan’s hands slid