Page 77 of A Highland Bride Disciplined

“Come wi’ me.” His tone left little room for argument.

He led her down the hall to his own room. She hesitated at the threshold, her eyes flicking over the fire still burning low in the hearth, the decanter of whiskey on the table, the bed draped in shadows.

“I daenae —”

He shut the door behind them. “We dinnae finish our talk.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I daenae want to finish it.”

“Scarlett —”

“Nay.” She stepped back, away from him, her skirts brushing the edge of the bed. “Nae tonight. Nae after —”

Whatever she’d meant to say was lost.

She closed the distance between them in a breath and kissed him.

For the barest flicker of a second, his mind went blank. Her mouth was warm, insistent, tasting faintly of cider and something sweeter he couldn’t name. Then instinct and want overran thought entirely, and he kissed her back.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t meant to be.

His hands came up to cradle her jaw, then slid into her hair, feeling the silken strands spill between his fingers. She pressed against him, and he could feel the quick, hard beat of her heart matching his own. When her lips parted, he took the invitation, deepening the kiss until the world outside these four walls simply ceased to exist.

Her hands roamed over his shoulders and his back clutching at him as though she was just as desperate to blot out every thought as he was.

The bed was at his knees before he even realized he’d backed her toward it. She sat, skirts spreading around her, looking up at him with eyes that were equal parts defiance and something softer. Something that made his chest ache.

“Kian, I need this.”

That was all he needed to hear. He lowered himself to her, kissing her again, pushing her back onto the coverlet.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against her skin.

Scarlett’s breath hitched. “Daenae ye dare.”

The sight of her there. Her cheeks flushed and lips swollen from his kisses, was enough to make him come right then and there.

Heat radiated through the thin barrier of fabric as he urged his pants off. His hands skimmed up her sides, memorizing every curve, every tremble, before cupping her face once more.

Then he eased himself into her with earth shattering control and the world around them faded into nothingness.

“Kian…” She breathed his name like a secret, like it meant something more than she could say aloud. It was red hot and ice cold all at once, as he eased the length of himself out and then back in.

“Are ye well, lass?”

“I feel — I need — Oh… Kian…” she said, and he figured that was as close to a coherent affirmative that he was going to get.

“Sweet hells, Scarlett,” he said and bent to kiss the hollow of her throat, his pace slowly picking up as he matched her clipped breaths. Then, her fingers tangled in his hair and tugged ruthlessly eliciting a hiss to escape from his lips.

“Do ye want more, lass?”

Her nails grazed the nape of his neck as she sighed, “Aye,” and he thrust into her with punishing pace. Her sharp gasp in reply drove him into a frenzy.

He drove into her deeper.

Every rock hard inch of him completely enveloped inside of her.

Deeper.