THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

flowers .
    As he studied her features more closely, she blushed and turned her face away.
    Ah huh! The wench lies .
    “Humph!” He ran a gentle finger along her lower lip. When he did it again, her gaze locked on his lips and took on the decidedly unfocused look of passion. He watched, bemused, as her tongue tentatively slid along the path his finger had taken. Aye, she’s lying, but why?
    “Ye flowers, lass?”
    Her gaze shifted to his chest as she nodded like a sandpiper. She started worrying her lovely lower lip near to death with her upper teeth. “Uh-huh.”
    He brushed a loose strand from her forehead and fingered its silky texture. “Ye’d not be telling a fib out of fear or mayhap shyness, now would ye?”
    “Oh, no! No, no, no. I have my flowers.” She had yet to look him in the eye. “Definitely.”
    “I see.” He kissed her brow, and was pleased to see her gaze found his lips once again as he pulled away. “Well, my ladywife, then I fear I canna go on....” She sighed, visibly more relaxed. She patted his chest.
    He rocked up onto his knees, his hands coming to rest on either side of her hips. He smiled. When she offered him a tentative smile of her own, he added, “...until I check.”
    He buried his face between her skirted thighs and heard a squeal loud enough to wake the dead.
     
     
     
    Chapter 12
     
    Please, God, take me now!
    Beth squealed louder and longer as Duncan noisily snuffled and sniffed at her crotch again. This time she tugged on his ears for all she was worth. “Duncan! Stop! What hell are you doing?”
    If a body could die of mortification, she wanted to be on the short list. Had to be on it. She struggled to sit, and finding she couldn’t, she swatted his head. “Damn it, Duncan!”
    He finally came up for air, laughing to kill himself. “Ah, lass, ye are a wondrously poor liar.”
    In less than a heartbeat he rocked forward and settled on top of her, as he had before, his knee gently wedging her legs apart. Her treacherous thighs instinctively separated to accommodate his weight before she’d realized what they had done, so she again found herself pinned under more than two hundred pounds of solid muscle, and if her loins were correct, nearly as much bulging manhood.
    He captured her hands in each of his own and settled them above her head. She stared wide-eyed at his suddenly inscrutable features. Then slowly, one corner of his mouth curled and a wicked gleam took shape in his eyes.
    Uh-oh!
    He started to slowly rock against her hips as his grin widened.
    Now, God. Now would be a good time to take me!
    She turned her face as his mouth drew near. She’d play no part in this...this seduction. He’d not said, “I’m fond of you,” much less said “I love you.” The fact that she’d mooned over him, cried over him, and was totally confused by her body’s response to him didn’t matter one wit. She couldn’t make love to him. She just couldn’t.
    His lips grazed along her neck. “Ah, lass, ye are a wonder.” When he sucked gently where her neck and shoulder met, she gasped as unexpected tingles raced down her spine. Oh my word .
    No, she just couldn’t open her heart to the pain again, could not allow herself to become vulnerable.
    He licked the spot and she moaned. He then moved his lips only an inch further down and did it again.
    When his lips stopped to nibble again, she did manage to whisper, “Duncan, husband, I really don’t think...”
    His pelvis, gently rocking between her thighs, was driving her to distraction, causing an unaccountable heat, an indefinable yearning to build within her that clouded her analytical mind. To her surprise, he agreed with her, mumbled, “Aye, lass, ‘tis best we dinna.” But his mouth continued to dine on her flesh in the most protracted manner as if it were imperative he memorize every dip and curve of her face.
    For some inexplicable reason her mouth sought his. It came as a bit of a shock to realize her body had apparently decided it would not flatten its learning curve despite her brain’s protests. When he captured her lower lip with his teeth, then ran his velvet tongue slowly across it, her mouth opened to his sweet invasion. She sighed. Her heart whispered, “This man of your fantasies—of your heart—certainly knows how to kiss.”
    She had no idea when he’d released her left hand, none at all, but took advantage and slid her fingers into the thick waves of his ebony hair. When he started to