Page 48 of Of Heather and Thistle

Heather shut the door behind them, but neither of them moved. The only sounds were the quiet crackle of the fireplace and the soft rhythm of their breath—hers shaky, his steady. Her pulse pounded in her ears like a warning or a dare.

She turned slowly, spine pressing to the door. Flynn stood across the room, watching her—still, silent, unreadable. His blue eyes shimmered in the dim firelight, heavy-lidded but calm. He was still giving her an out. Still letting her decide.

Heather’s hands trembled. She wanted to say something—to confess that she didn’t know how to do this without destroying it. That she was scared of wanting something real. Scared of him . Scared of what it might mean.

But nothing came out.

Flynn’s gaze flicked to her lips. Just for a breath. Just long enough.

Heather inhaled sharply.

And then—

He reached for her.

A single touch—his fingers grazed her jaw, trailed lightly down the side of her throat. Heather’s knees nearly buckled. Flynn paused, as if sensing her unraveling, his thumb brushing the skin just beneath her ear. A question. A tether. A final moment to turn back.

She didn’t take it.

Heather’s mind spun, thoughts racing and colliding, none of them louder than the ache between them. Flynn stepped closer—close enough that his warmth kissed her skin, his breath feathered across her mouth.

His hand lifted, cupping her jaw with reverence. His thumb traced the arc of her cheekbone like she was something fragile and holy.

Then his hands slid—shoulders to arms to waist—drawing her into him as his lips found hers.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative. Then deeper. Hotter. Desperate.

Like a dam breaking.

Heather whimpered into his mouth, and that sound snapped something in him. His hand found her waist. His hips pressed forward. His mouth devoured hers like she was something to be claimed.

Her hands roamed his chest, feeling the heat under her palms, the strength of him. He was solid, immovable—and yet something about this felt wild and uncertain, like uncharted land neither of them had dared explore until now.

When he pulled back, he pressed his forehead to hers. Both of them breathless, trembling.

His lips trailed down her neck, his stubble grazing fire over her skin. Her fingers fisted in his shirt. She wanted him closer. Deeper. Everywhere.

Flynn’s hands found the zipper at her side. He hesitated, breath ragged at her ear.

“We can stop,” he murmured, voice low and aching. “Say the word, and I’ll walk out that door.”

Heather’s hands covered his. Steady. Certain.

“I don’t want to stop,” she whispered.

Flynn exhaled hard—like she’d just given him permission to breathe.

And then—everything else disappeared.

She barely registered the sound of her dress sliding from her shoulders. Only the heat of his hands, the weight of his body, the way his mouth claimed hers like she was the only thing he’d ever wanted.

He lifted her with ease, carrying her to the bed. Heather’s arms curled around his neck, a smile brushing his lips as she whispered his name.

Tonight, she wasn’t running.

She was his—completely, irrevocably his.

Flynn set her down gently, her feet still brushing the floor. But he didn’t pull back.

His hands stayed at her hips, thumbs circling slowly, like she was something to be unwrapped with patience and awe.

His gaze raked over her—hungry, reverent.

“I’ve wanted ye since the moment ye walked into my cottage,” he murmured, mouth brushing her jaw, her neck.

“I tried to be a gentleman… but ye ken, I saw every inch of you in that soaking wet ou tfit. ”

Heather moaned at his bold admission, arching into his touch.

“That lacy little thing ye wore that day…” Flynn’s voice dropped to a low rasp, thick with heat. “I’ve thought about it more times than I care to admit. How easy it would’ve been to slide it down… to see what ye were hidin’ beneath it. To touch. To taste.”

His words sent a fresh wave of heat curling through her.

She could picture it—his hands, rough and reverent, slipping the straps down her shoulders.

The way his breath would hitch, how his pupils would dilate with need as her skin was slowly revealed.

He’d stare at her like she was a revelation. Like she was something holy.

“I want that too,” she whispered, her fingers fisting the fabric of his shirt. “I want you to touch me, Flynn.”

Flynn let out a guttural sound, something between a groan and a growl. His hips pressed against hers, his restraint fraying at the edges.

“Ye dinnae ken how much I want that,” he murmured, his voice trembling with need. “To feel your skin under my hands. To taste every inch of you. I burn for it, mo chridhe.”

Heather tugged him closer, mouth crashing into his in a searing, hungry kiss.

Their tongues tangled, breath hitching, hearts racing.

Every touch, every gasp, every press of their bodies was a spark thrown onto a growing fire.

And neither of them wanted to put it out.

Flynn’s hands roamed her body like a man starved, mapping every dip, every curve, with aching reverence. He cupped her breasts through the delicate lace of her bralette, his thumbs circling her nipples until they strained beneath the sheer fabric, drawing a soft gasp from her lips.

His movements were slow, deliberate, as he reached behind her for the clasp. His fingers grazed her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. The air between them was charged—thick with tension, anticipation, hunger.

Finally, the straps slid from her shoulders, the lace slipping free.

Heather didn’t look away. Her cheeks were flushed, her chest rising and falling as she held his gaze. There was no fear in her now—just desire, and something rawer beneath it. Vulnerability. Trust.

Flynn exhaled sharply as her bralette fell to the floor. His eyes swept over her, dark and wide, reverent and wrecked.

“Christ,” he breathed. “Ye’re even more breathtaking than I imagined.”

His voice was hoarse, thick with awe. “Bloody hell, lass… you’re exquisite.”

Heather’s cheeks flushed, heat rising beneath his stare. No one had ever called her that—not really. The words lit something inside her, wild and unfamiliar.

For a split second, her old doubts tried to claw their way back in. Would he see the flaws? Would he change his mind?

But then she looked at him—really looked.

He wasn’t seeing imperfections.

He was seeing her.

And he looked at her like she was something rare.

Like he’d found a miracle and was afraid to breathe too hard in case it vanished.

She took a breath and chose boldness.

No second-guessing. No hiding.

Her skin buzzed with anticipation, every nerve alive beneath his gaze. She wanted his hands on her. Wanted to feel something that didn’t ache.

“Please, Flynn,” she whispered, voice low and wrecked. She didn’t know if she wanted more or just wanted him. Maybe both.

He placed his finger to his lips, “Shh, patience, mo chridhe .” His fingers skimmed along the edge of her underwear, an agonizingly slow, deliberate touch.

He held her gaze as he eased the lacy fabric down, tracing the path with his hands, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

Every moment was unhurried, reverent—like he was memorizing her, piece by piece.

She was trembling now, every nerve on edge, her body aching—starving—for more.

“You like to take your time, don’t you?” she murmured, a slow smile curving her lips. “I can’t tell if you’re savoring this… or just testing how long I can take it.” She arched into his touch, her voice a low purr.

“Can’t it be both?” He murmured, his lips brushing just beneath her ear. “I like to do things properly, lass. Wouldn’t want to rush into something worth savoring.”

Her breath caught as his hands moved slowly.

Deliberately tracing fire across her skin.

Each touch curled heat low in her belly, winding tighter with every pass.

He didn’t rush. Didn’t fumble. He moved like a man with time to memorize her.

She should’ve felt exposed. Vulnerable. But with him?

She just felt wanted.

“Flynn,” She whispered, as he lifted his head, his blue eyes dark with something unreadable. He didn’t rush. He just looked at her, like he was letting himself take in every inch of her, every sound she made, every way she responded to him.

“Yes?’ he murmured, his voice low, rough with restraint.

She swallowed, her fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer. “Just kiss me already.”

Something in him snapped—patience burned off like mist in the sun.

His mouth claimed hers, and suddenly there was no space left to breathe, only heat, only hands, only the way she came undone beneath him.

And this time? She didn’t hold back.

She met him with everything she had—want, wonder, yes.

He cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing over the stiff peaks, drawing a gasp from Heather’s lips. Leaning down, he took one into his mouth, suckling and teasing until she was writhing against him.

“Yes,” Heather hissed, fisting her hands in his hair to hold him closer. “More…”

Flynn obliged eagerly, lavishing attention on each sensitive peak until Heather was nearly mindless with pleasure. His hands continued their exploration, trailing down her sides to grip her hips, pressing her more firmly against his straining erection.

Her hands slipped between them, urgency sparking in every movement as she fumbled with his buttons.

She had to feel him—warm, solid, real beneath her palms.

When she finally peeled the shirt from his shoulders, it hit the floor with a soft thud, forgotten.

“Well, damn,” she murmured, her fingers tracing the firm ridges of his abdomen. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

Flynn captured her lips again, swallowing her moan as she caressed him. In one swift movement, he lifted her, laid her on the bed before them, and sat up to take her in—his eyes roving over every bare inch of her, exhaling appreciatively.

“Christ, ye’re so beautiful,” His hands and mouth explored her with aching patience, unraveling her piece by piece until she was lost to him completely. “What am I to do with you?”

Flynn looked up at her mischievously, sliding his index finger down the center of her arousal. “Ye’re so ready for me,” he growled against her. “You want this as badly as I do.”

“Yes,” Heather panted, bucking into his touch. “I need you, Flynn. Now.”

He complied immediately, pulling back just long enough to shed his pants and boxers, allowing himself to spring free before covering her body with his own once more.

The feel of his hot skin against her made Heather shudder with pleasure.

She could feel every chiseled muscle pressed against her soft curves.

With a deep groan, he gave her exactly what she needed.

Heather cried out at the sudden intrusion, inner muscles clenching around him greedily.

He began to move within her, deep and unhurried, each thrust sending sparks along her spine, “Yes,” Heather moaned, nails scoring down his back. “Flynn, please.”

The hard press of Flynn’s desire lingered at her entrance as his voice dropped to a rough whisper. “You’re mine, Heather. Say it.”

“I’m yours, only yours.” Heather agreed quickly.

“Good girl.” Flynn exhaled, rewarding her with a deep, claiming kiss as he thrust into her. They both gasped at the delicious sensation, pausing to savor the feeling of being so perfectly joined. Then Flynn began to move, setting a slow, sensual rhythm that had them both seeing stars.

They moved together with a perfect rhythm, each touch a silent confession of need. Heather met Flynn’s every thrust with an upward roll of her hips, pulling him deeper, harder. She grazed his back with soothing strokes as she urged him on, lost to everything but the feel of him moving inside her.

Flynn could feel his release building, winding tighter with every stroke of their joined bodies. He slipped a hand between them, caressing her apex in slow, deliberate circles, determined to bring her with him. “Let go for me, mo chridhe. Let me feel ye come undone.”

His words, spoken in that deep, honeyed tone, were all it took.

Heather flew apart with a keening cry, inner muscles rippling around him like a vise as she came.

The sound of her pleasure pushed Flynn over the edge, and he followed her into bliss, spilling himself deep inside her with a hoarse shout of her name.

He rolled off of her, breathless and sated, his body still humming with the lingering aftershocks of their shared ecstasy. As he lay beside her, his dark blue eyes—softened by firelight—held her in their gaze, drinking her in.

Flushed, she traced the line of his stubbled jaw with a fingertip, her own body still trembling from the intensity of their passion. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she studied him, her gaze lingering on the faint blush that stained his skin.

Flynn reached out, cupping her face gently, his touch as tender as a feather.

“You,” he whispered, his voice husky with emotion, “you are everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

A slow, lingering smile played on Heather’s lips, a silent affirmation of the truth in his words. They laid tangled in the hush that followed, breath soft against skin, the heat between them still humming like an aftershock.

His arm slipped around her waist like it belonged there. She exhaled softly against his chest, fingers brushing his skin—still warm from everything they’d shared.

He let his hand drift along her hip, lingering at the curve of her breast. A quiet smile tugged at his mouth as he closed his eyes, holding on to the way she felt right then. The rise and fall of her breath matched his own, steady and slow beneath the hush of night.

Heather’s eyes fluttered shut, Flynn’s warmth anchoring her as she melted into his arms. His body curved around hers, steady and sure. The night sounds faded—the hush of wind through trees, the distant chirp of crickets—like the world itself had gone quiet just for them.

He dreamed of her laughter, the fire in her eyes, the way she challenged him without flinching. No woman had ever disarmed him like this—tender and sharp all at once. He didn’t just want her now. He wanted every version of her, in every moment still to come.

She dreamed of his arms, of lips that knew every inch of her, of the way he held her like she wasn’t breakable—but precious.

Not just his touch.

The feeling of him.

Safe.

Seen.

Wanted.

Like she was someone worth staying for.

And she knew she wouldn’t survive it when it all fell apart.