Page 39 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander (The Highland’s Lawson Sisters #3)

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

“ O ch, I’m nae a feather.” Abigail giggled.

“Ye are to me, me bonnie wife,” Kian said.

Abigail clung to his shoulders, breathless with laughter, as he swept her up into his arms and carried her over the threshold of his bedchamber.

Her heart thudded against his chest, her cheeks warm with delight and something deeper.

“Ye’ll spoil me, carryin’ me like some dainty lass,” she teased, her fingers curling at the nape of his neck. “Is this how ye treat yer new bride, then?”

Kian’s grin turned roguish as he nudged the door shut behind them with his boot.

“Aye, I mean to worship ye properly,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

He lowered her slowly, letting her feet brush the floor before pulling her tight again.

“Besides, ye are dainty… fierce as a hawk, but dainty all the same.”

His hands traced down her sides as he slowly backed her up toward the bed.

“But I can be gentle, if that’s what ye need tonight.”

Abigail’s smile faltered, but only for a moment, as desire flickered in her gaze.

“What I need,” she whispered, “is ye , just as ye are.”

She reached up, brushing her lips against his in a kiss that deepened quickly, heated and hungry. Her hands found the hem of his shirt, tugging it from beneath the waistband of his kilt.

Kian’s laugh was a low rumble in his chest as he helped her, holding her eyes all the while.

“Impatient, wee thing,” he murmured, brushing her hair from her face. “Have I told ye how beautiful ye look tonight?”

Abigail’s breath caught as his fingers brushed the laces of her gown. Her hands trembled slightly, her heart thudding like a drum in her chest.

She turned her face away, her cheeks burning. “Maybe ye’ll change yer mind once ye see me,” she whispered.

Kian paused, his hands gentle on her waist. “Change me mind?” he echoed, furrowing his brow. “Abigail, there’s nae a single thing I want more in this world than ye.”

“I’m nae like those thin lasses,” she said. “I’m too soft, too round. I ken what folk say.”

He stepped closer, his hands cupping her face, his thumbs brushing her flushed cheeks. “Aye, ye’re soft, just the way I like it,” he said, his voice low and rough. “And yer curves were made to be touched, to be kissed, to be cherished .”

She closed her eyes, a shiver running through her as he slowly untied the last lace of her bodice. “Let me show ye what I see.”

The gown slipped from her shoulders with a gentle whisper, pooling at her feet. Cool air met warm skin, and her skin prickled in response, her nerves alight.

She stood in her chemise, her arms crossing instinctively over her middle, but Kian stopped her with a look.

“Dinnae hide from me, bunny,” he said softly.

He ran his knuckles down her arms. Heat rose where his fingers touched, as though her skin had come alive. Her breath hitched as he leaned in, brushing his lips along her collarbone like a vow.

“Ye’re beautiful,” he murmured, pressing a kiss just above her heart.

Abigail’s eyes locked onto his, and something inside her quieted.

He wasn’t looking at her body with judgment, but with awe, hunger, and love. For the first time in her life, she believed she was enough.

“Ye dinnae need to be afraid, lass,” Kian added, his voice rough like gravel smoothed by rain. “I’ll nae rush ye.” His hand came up, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, his thumb lingering on her cheek. “But I’ve wanted this— ye for so long.”

Her breath caught as he leaned in, and the world narrowed to the press of lips against hers. His kiss was gentle at first, coaxing her to respond, and when she did, it deepened with hunger.

Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer— needing him closer—and she let out a breathy moan.

He groaned softly against her mouth.

“Abigail,” he breathed, tasting her name like a forbidden fruit. “Ye have nay idea what ye do to me.”

His hands moved to her waist and slid around her hips, his thumbs brushing the twin dimples at the small of her back.

She felt his touch through the thin fabric of her chemise, and gooseflesh broke over her skin. His covered manhood rubbed against her thigh, making her eyes widen.

“Kian,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “Touch me, everywhere.”

The words came unbidden, shocking in their boldness, but she meant every one of them.

“Aye, I will,” he said, kissing along her jaw, then down the side of her neck. “But slow. I want to learn every inch of ye.”

He dragged his lips over the hollow at the base of her throat, and she gasped, her head falling back to give him more access.

His hands slipped beneath the hem of her chemise, his rough palms skimming over her thighs as he pushed it up.

She tensed, and he paused, lifting his head.

“Ye all right?” he asked, searching her face.

She nodded, her eyes wide. “I want this. I want ye .”

Kian lifted her chemise inch by inch, slowly baring her to the cool air and the warmth of his gaze.

“So bonnie,” he whispered as he tossed the garment aside. His lips brushed her collarbone. “I cannae believe ye’re mine.”

His hands stroked her waist and then slid upward, cupping her breasts reverently.

Abigail gasped, trembling under his touch. Everywhere he touched came alive.

“Kian,” she moaned, arching into his hands. “I… oh…”

He kissed her breasts, his tongue lapping at her creamy skin, as if he couldn’t get enough of her.

Abigail tangled her hands in his hair, pulling him closer. Her thighs brushed his, her bare skin tingling where they touched. She pressed herself against him, needing his heat.

He pulled her to the bed, guiding her down with gentle hands. “Lie back,” he murmured, brushing kisses over her belly. “Let me have ye, bit by bit.”

Her body sank into the mattress, but her senses heightened. He kissed down her arm, tracing the inside of her wrist with his lips, then his tongue.

“So soft,” he said. “So warm.”

She shivered when his lips brushed her breasts again, then moved lower, trailing down her belly.

Her breath came fast now, her hips shifting beneath him.

“Please,” she whispered. “Dinnae stop.”

“I’d never,” he rasped, lowering his head between her thighs.

Abigail pushed her fingers into his hair and opened her legs wider. His mouth moved over her mound, and she gasped softly. His tongue flicked against her bud, moving back and forth.

“Oh, Kian, that feels so good,” she moaned.

Kian slid his hands under her bottom and pulled her against his mouth. Lustful groans and moans spilled out of him as he brought her to the brink.

“I feel it coming,” Abigail gasped as pressure built in her core.

She teetered on the edge. Then, pleasure crashed through her.

Kian moaned as he lapped up her juices. “I want ye to feel pleasure.”

“I do. I do… so much. I want ye inside me,” she said breathlessly, barely able to get the words out.

His mouth returned to hers as his hands stroked her waist, her ribs, the back of her thighs. “Ye were made for me.”

She clung to him, moaning softly. Her heart pounded in her chest, louder than a war drum.

She pulled at his clothes. “Take it all off,” she begged.

Kian flashed her that smirk she had grown fond of. More than that, it thrilled her.

“Yer wish is me command, bunny.”

He pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the hard lines of his chest, scarred and strong. His kilt and boots followed, until he stood naked before her.

She reached out, letting her hands roam over his skin, marveling at the feel of him.

“Ye’re beautiful,” she breathed.

He smiled, leaning into her touch. “Ye think so?” he asked, his voice teasing but tight with want.

“Aye,” she murmured, tracing her fingers along his chest, down his ridged abdomen. Then, her hand wrapped around his thick shaft.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Bunny, ye will have me climax in yer hand if ye keep touchin’ me like that.”

“I never wanted anyone like this,” she said. “Take me, husband.”

Kian kissed her again, slower now, savoring each moment as though it were the first and last. His hand cradled her face, the other roaming over her body in a reverent exploration.

Abigail felt cherished. Desired. Loved.

He shifted above her, pressing his body against hers. Abigail gasped at the contact, the heat of him, the way they fit against each other. She felt the tip of his rigid manhood nudge her entrance. Her hands roamed over his back, his fingers digging in as he slowly slid inside her.

Each brush of lips, each glide of hands, built like a storm as he slid deeper into her.

“I’ve never felt like this,” she murmured against his mouth. “Nae ever.”

“Ye’re mine, Abigail,” Kian said, his voice thick with need. “I’ll never let ye forget it.”

“Aye,” Abigail moaned.

She put her hands on his hips as he thrust into her, his rhythm building steadily.

Their bodies tangled in a dance older than time.

Abigail’s body trembled under his, rising to meet every thrust. Her breath came fast and shallow, but she wasn’t afraid. She had never felt more alive.

“Kian,” she gasped, clinging to him as pleasure crashed over her. “Kian, I?—”

He held her through it, kissing her face, her throat, murmuring her name like a prayer.

She climaxed once more.

“That’s good, me bunny. Dinnae hold back,” he said, still thrusting in and out of her.

When her eyes fluttered open at last, he was still there, watching her with such adoration that it almost undid her.

“I love ye,” he whispered.

Tears pricked her eyes, and she smiled. “I love ye, too.”

She held onto him as he moved, and within moments, he tensed and spilled his seed inside her, sealing their union.

Suddenly, something soft started tapping against the glass.

“Oh God,” Abigail gasped. “It’s raining!”

Kian blinked, propping himself up on one elbow and glancing at the window. The moonlight caught the droplets sliding down the glass.

“Sweet saints above,” he breathed. “The drought’s broken. There will be crops in the fields again.”

“It’s a blessing, Kian.”

He looked down at her, cupping her damp cheek, his thumb brushing her tears.

“Aye,” he murmured, “and ye’re the greatest blessing of them all.”

He rested his forehead on hers, his breathing steady and sure.

“I love ye, Abigail. With every beat of me heart.”

Tears pricked her eyes again, and she smiled up at him, the rain pattering against the window like a lullaby.

“And I love ye, me wild Highland laird.” Her voice trembled, but her hands were steady as they cupped his face. “Always, Kian. Come what may.”