Unwilling (Highland Historical #2)

  
    He couldn’t believe she wanted
this.  Couldn’t believe it was happening.  Hadn’t he come in here to whittle
away some lonely, aching hours?  Wasn’t she still angry with him for being a
high-handed incomparable ass?
    Maybe.  But the scent of her
honeyed provocation against him was undeniable.  Regardless of what she felt, his
mate needed him to pleasure her again.  In this, he would not fail her. 
    They wouldn’t make it to a bed. 
And he knew that in his state, he’d break Evelyn’s favorite chaise.  Stepping
to the table, he held her negligible weight with one hand as he used the other
to swipe books and various paraphernalia out of his way.  They didn’t just fall
to the ground, some items flew spans across the room.  A magnifying glass
shattered somewhere in the distance.  He didn’t care, except that her feet were
bare.  He wouldn’t allow them to touch the floor until every shard was cleared.
    She broke the kiss with a gasp and
blinked as though a spell had been broken.  Her wide, violet eyes took in his
face, which was now turned toward the fire.  He knew what she read there, and she
gasped in response to its intensity.  She was a little afraid. 
    She should be. 
    Claiming her moist lips once again,
he set her on the very edge of the table, so her core still came into contact
with his cock.  Splaying his hands between them, he spread them up her ribcage,
past her breasts, and gripped the front of her shift. 
    Ripping it from her was the most
satisfying thing he’d accomplished in his lifetime thus far.  And it was just
about to get better.
    Her skin glowed a pale cream
against the dark wood of the table.  Her hair pooled in the shadows.  Once she was
bared to him, Connor reluctantly conceded the sweetness of her mouth for the
call of other tantalizing regions.  Trailing his tongue down the slight column
of her neck, he licked at the pulse that fluttered an irregular beat against
his mouth, before dipping lower.
    Her breasts were impossibly pert
and firm.  Securing her arched back with his forearms, he feasted on them. 
Licking at the thin, sensitive skin beneath her rosy areolas he denied the
puckering nipples his attention.  Lindsay’s hands roamed and dug into his scalp
and neck, demanding satisfaction.  Little insistent mewls burst from deep in
her throat.  Connor found himself lamenting that his hair was too short to
pull, though every inch of his skin reveled in her touch.  
    She deserved this torment.  Latching
on to her nipple, he flicked the tip with his tongue and she gifted him with
her first moan of the night.  Oh there would be many to follow. 
    He thrilled to the challenge. 
    Leaving the nipple moist, he drew
back and breathed on it.  Goose pimples erupted over her whole body and she
gave a little whimper.  He could feel a wicked smile tilt his mouth as he moved
on to the other breast.  Reveling in the sweet and salty taste of her skin, he
laid her back on the table, freeing his hands to roam her body. 
    He’d wanted to go slower than
this.  To explore every inch of her, to touch and claim every part.  But he was
too hungry, and her scent was too tantalizing.  Connor’s fingers found the
sweet triangle of curls immediately and, as he dipped in to coat his finger
with her moisture, his teeth gently dragged acRoss her nipple. 
    She gasped his name. 
    Yes.
    It had been well done of him to
keep his clothing on through this.  At the sound of his name leaving her lips
he would have thrust into her and blindly driven himself into oblivion.  Not
yet.  He had to taste her first.  To drink from the well that sprang for him. 
He couldn’t deny himself that right.  He couldn’t deny her that pleasure.
    Though he bent over her, his left
hand came up to splay across her chest and hold her down.  “Lie still,” he
commanded, then sank to his knees on the rough stone.
    “What are you—?”   Her small,
breathy voice cut off when he wrenched both of her legs wide with his hands,
pinning her to the table. 
    He growled at the sight of her. 
Slick, glistening, and pink nestled in a bed of glossy ebony curls.  He’d never
seen anything so beautiful. 
    “Connor I—I… Oh God!”
    The first taste of her was ambrosia;
the second catapulted him to heaven.  Nothing could have prepared him for the
softness he found, the pliant flesh that yielded to his lips and pulsed against
his tongue.  He explored her mercilessly, enjoying the