Page 35 of The Chief's Wild Promise
Bran groaned against her mouth. His hands swept down the arch of her back and cupped her backside. Then, one hand caught hold of her thigh, and he hauled her up against him so that their most intimate places were pressing together.
And there, he ground himself against her.
Clinging to him, even as their kisses grew hungrier and deeper now, Makenna found herself mimicking his action. She ached for friction.
The feel of him, bone-hard and hot, rubbing against the slippery, throbbing flesh between her thighs was quickly turning her witless.
“Are ye ready, Makenna?” he asked then, his voice husky.
“Aye,” she gasped back.
A moment later, he picked her up, allowing her to wrap both legs around his hips, as they continued to kiss. He then carried her over to the bed and laid her down upon the coverlet. As he did so, she felt the tremor of tension in his body.
The scent of rose enveloped them, but Makenna barely noticed. She was too busy staring up at her husband.
His gazedevouredher. In the past, she’d disliked it when men gave her a carnal look. Now though, it made her blood catch fire.
Bran favored her with a nervous smile, her breathing catching at the vulnerability he’d just revealed. This wasn’t just lust between them, but discovery. However, when he lowered himself to his knees before the bed, took hold of her ankles, and drew her close, she started to tremble.
“I just want to see ye,” he murmured. And then, before she could reply, he pushed her legs wide apart and stared between her spread thighs. A moment later, a ragged sound escaped him, and he breathed an oath.
Watching his face, and the flush that had now risen upon his high cheekbones, Makenna thought she might burst into flames. This was too intimate. She wasn’t ready for it. Raising a hand, she placed it over her face to hide her embarrassment.
“Makenna.” His voice was low and rough. “All is well?”
“Aye,” she lied, even as her voice came out in a mortified squeak.
“Look at me.”
Swallowing, she pulled her hand away from her eyes and forced herself to look at where he knelt between her spread thighs.
His gaze was surprisingly steady. In contrast though, her face burned like the sun.
“I want ye to watch this,” he went on, that nervous, shy smile returning. “To make sure I’m doing it right.”
She started to sweat at these words, even as her belly clenched.
She didn’t trust herself to answer him either—not without humiliating herself—and so she gave a jerky nod. She then raised herself up onto her elbows, her gaze lowering to where his hands parted her most intimate place.
“How do ye wish to be touched?” he asked, the catch to his voice betraying his excitement, his nerves.
Heat flushed over her once more. She couldn’t believe that he was asking such a question—yet she knew just how to answer. “Stroke with yer fingertip … above my … entrance,” she whispered. “Circle.”
He nodded. A moment later, his finger slid against her, and she gasped at just how sensitive she was down there. And when he began to touch her as asked, stroking and circling, a delicious wave of pleasure rippled through her loins.
She couldn’t help it; she whimpered.
Bran’s gaze rose to find hers once more, even as he continued to touch her. “Is that good?” His voice was strangled, sweat gleaming on his brow.
“Aye,” she ground out. It was hard to respond though, not when wild excitement pooled and coiled in her lower belly. “Very.”
He then lowered his gaze, fixing his attention upon her sex once more. “What next?” He sounded out of breath, as if he’d been running.
“Slide a fingerinsideme.”
Heavens, she was sweating now too, caught halfway between mortification and excitement.
And when he obeyed, Makenna choked out a curse, a shiver rippling through her. He worked her gently with that finger before adding a second without needing to be asked.