Page 24 of Cottage in the Mist (Time After Time #3)

“I command you to come to me.” Bram fisted a hand and brought it down on the mantle in angry frustration.

How many times did he have to say it? The fire burned brightly, filling the cottage’s single room with flickering shadows.

He’d done everything but get down on his knees, but despite all entreaties, he was still alone.

He tried to tell himself that it was for the best. That she’d be safer in her time, at least until he’d ridden against Alec Comyn.

But the thought brought no respite. His need for Lily only burned stronger.

With only one full night between them, the damned woman had somehow become more important to him than breath.

It wasn’t as if he had no experience of women. He’d lain with more than his fair share, but none of them had mattered beyond the short time he’d spent with each of them. The encounters had simply been a matter of finding mutual pleasure. This was something more. Much, much more.

Perhaps they were enchanted.

Bram shook his head at the notion. He’d never been one to fall for that sort of nonsense.

He believed in what he could see. What he could touch.

And yet, he’d done more than touch Lily.

He’d held her, kissed her, loved her until they’d been shattered by the glory of it all.

He might not believe in magic and time travel. But he believed in her.

“Please,” he pleaded on a whisper, his eyes locked on the flickering flames, his heart tight with longing. “Come to me.”

The fire popped and hissed as the door behind him swung open. Spinning on his heels, he reached for the claymore leaning against the hearth.

“Lily.” Her name came out on a groan as the sword clattered to the floor. Heart pounding, he took a step toward her.

Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders, curling in wild abandon, moonlight gilding it with silver.

Her slippers were faded gold, her gossamer gown the palest of green.

He let his eyes caress the curve of her hips, the taut plane of her belly, moving up to the smooth skin of her neck and the slope of her shoulders.

Then let them drop again to settle on the sweet swell of her breasts as they rose and fell beneath her garment.

His mouth ran dry, his body tightening in anticipation.

Then he lifted his gaze to hers, their eyes locking as they communicated without need for words.

For a moment, they stood caught in the magic, and then with a little cry, she launched herself at him and his arms closed around her, reveling in the feel of her as he pulled her tightly against him.

He breathed deeply, her scent surrounding him.

Fresh and earthy. Like a warm summer day.

For a moment he simply held her, marveling in the fact that she was real.

That she was here in the cottage with him.

He could feel the rise and fall of her breasts, his own breathing matching hers.

And then she pushed back, reaching to run the back of her hand over his cheek as if reassuring herself that he was indeed real.

“I thought I’d lost you.” She swallowed, her eyes searching his face. “The men in the pass?—“

“Were vanquished,” he finished for her. “Thanks to you. To your warning.”

She sucked in a breath, nodding, her eyes still locked on his.

“But after you disappeared, I went to Dunbrae. I wanted to find you. I… I touched the fallen stones and the tower appeared. Only it was burning and there were men fighting everywhere. I was alone amongst them. And then you were there, but before I could reach you, you were gone. I thought… Oh, Bram, I was so afraid.”

“Ach, mo ghràidh , there was no need,” he soothed as he smoothed back her hair. “’Twas naught but a vision. I escaped the blackguards in the pass and at Dunbrae. And I’m here now with you.” He cupped her face in his hands. “That’s all that matters.”

She nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, the corners of her mouth lifting with a tremulous smile.

He brushed the moisture away with his thumb.

And then, with a low groan, bent his head and slanted his mouth over hers.

Their lips brushed lightly, almost reverently, as if afraid that in touching one the other might disappear.

But the gentle touch only heightened Bram’s need, a simple kiss no longer enough. He pulled her closer, his mouth firming as his lips pressed harder against hers. Tasting. Teasing. With a sigh, she opened to him, and he plunged his tongue into the moist heat of her mouth, deepening the kiss.

Firelight flickered around them and he drew her farther into the warmth of the room, his hands sliding down to the small of her back. She arched against him, mewling softly as she lifted her arms to twine her fingers through his hair, her breasts pressing against his chest.

Heat seared through him, desire so potent he feared it would engulf them both.

And yet, even as the thought occurred, he pushed it aside.

This was what he wanted. He needed her more than he’d ever needed anybody.

Wanted her with a passion that was almost beyond ken.

It was as if she’d reached inside him and touched his core.

Set free that part of him that was most basic—most primitive.

He let his mind go as he lost himself in her kiss. Their tongues danced together, parrying and thrusting in a prelude to things to come. She tasted of something dusky and sweet. And he pressed for more. Drinking deeply. Wishing there were a way to take her inside of him. To hold her safely there.

Desperate now to feel her skin beneath his fingers, he reached behind her to undo the buttons that held her gown closed.

Her skin beneath was silky and smooth, and she shivered beneath his touch.

He smiled, pleased with her reaction, his mouth caressing the corners of her lips, and then kissing a line across the satin of her cheek to the soft whorl of her ear.

He dipped his tongue inside and smiled as she tensed beneath his ministrations, her rising desire evident in the stuttered inhale of breath as he sucked gently on her earlobe, his breath caressing her.

Then with impatient hands, he pushed the bodice off her shoulders, baring her to the waist, delighted to find no further obstruction to his goal.

With an open-mouthed kiss to the tender hollow at the base of her neck, he slid his hands up to cup her breasts.

Her nipples were tight little buds. Pink against her alabaster skin.

Ripe for the tasting. As if privy to his thoughts, she moaned and arched her back, eyes closed as she offered herself to him.

His body hardened as his passion rose to match hers. And he shifted, laying her back across his arm, his mouth taking one of her nipples. Biting lightly, he sucked her breast deeper into his mouth, tongue swirling around the crest as he suckled.

Her fingers laced into his hair again as he continued to taste her. Torment her. Then he shifted his attentions to the other breast, the other nipple, biting and sucking, pulling and teasing until she writhed beneath him, calling his name.

His groin literally throbbing with need, he swung her into his arms, still raining hot kisses along the swell of her breasts. In two strides, he’d reached the bed, laying her down on the pallet, his breath catching as the firelight danced across her skin.

With a slow smile, she rose on her knees.

Then with graceful finesse, she pushed the gown over her hips, the fine material sliding down her thighs to pool on the bed around her.

Moving slightly, she picked it up and tossed it to the floor, clad now only in a wisp of white lace that slid over her hips and between her thighs.

When she reached for the lace, he shook his head. “Nay, mo ghràidh , let me.”

He reached down and slid a finger between the lace and her skin, then slowly inched the wee band down until it barely covered the soft dark curls at the apex of her thighs.

She was already wet and ready. And she swallowed a moan when his fingers brushed across her mons, teasing the opening as he pushed her back onto the bed and slid the lacy undergarment from her legs.

Kneeling then on the floor at the edge of the pallet, he pushed her thighs wide and bent his head, blowing softly against the curls before slipping a finger inside to stroke her.

In and out. In and out. Deeper, then deeper still as he added a second finger, his fist moving as he pushed inside her, stroking, possessing, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

Crying out, she bucked up off the bed, but he held her with his hands as he exchanged fingers for lips and tongue.

Licking and sucking, tasting her essence—feeling her body tighten with her need.

Finding the tiny nub of her desire, he closed his lips around it and suckled, her strangled moan sending his own pulses pounding.

Licking and laving, he circled and flicked.

And then slid his tongue lower and thrust it deep.

Once and then again. And yet again. Until she screamed his name and fell from the precipice.

He slid onto the bed and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as she shuddered, the climax still holding her in its thrall. Finally, when he felt her breathing ease, he pulled away.

“Not yet, please?—“

“Easy now. I’m no’ going anywhere.” He smiled down at her, his body heavy and aching, the time for giving almost past. Quickly, he shed his garments and then returned to her side, pulling her into his arms. Skin to skin. Breast to chest.

He covered her mouth with his, the kiss languid and slow. His hand slid between her legs again, and he delighted in the warm wet heat that greeted him. “So then are you ready for me?” His voice was low, almost a growl, as he rolled to his back, pulling her on top of him.