Page 22 of The Icy Highlander’s Virgin (Highlanders’ Feisty Brides #4)

His mouth curled slightly, but the look in his eyes was deadly serious. “Then let me have ye, Erica. Let me see ye. All of ye.”

With trembling fingers, she loosened the ties at her neckline.

Her chemise slid down her shoulders, soft fabric grazing over sensitive skin.

She felt the night air kiss her breasts as they were bared to him, nipples already tight from anticipation.

She shivered, not from cold, but from the way he looked at her—like she was holy, like she was his.

Lachlan sucked in a sharp breath. “Sweet saints…”

He cupped her breast with reverence, his hand warm and wide, fingers splaying to cradle her fully. His thumb brushed lightly over her nipple, and she gasped, arching slightly into the touch.

“Ye’re so soft,” he murmured, lowering his head.

She barely had time to register the heat of his breath before his mouth closed over her nipple. His tongue circled, slow and deliberate, then flicked the tip. Her knees buckled, and he steadied her with an arm around her back, never breaking contact.

Erica moaned, her hands flying to his shoulders for balance.

He sucked gently, then harder, drawing her deeper into the storm she was helpless against. When he moved to her other breast, he brought his hand up to tease the one he’d just abandoned, pinching and rolling the sensitive tip until she was panting.

Her head fell back, eyes fluttering shut as his tongue worked her in slow, devastating patterns.

“Lachlan…” she gasped.

“Aye?” he said against her skin, his voice like gravel and honey.

“I—I cannae think,” she said, half-laugh, half-moan.

“Good,” he growled. “Ye shouldnae think. Just feel.”

He lowered them both to the ground slowly, laying her gently in the grass, his body stretched out beside hers. His hands were everywhere—her sides, her thighs, her stomach—like he couldn’t touch enough of her at once.

His gaze darkened, and the growl that rolled from his chest made her knees buckle. Before she could fall, his arm was around her waist, steadying her, drawing her into him.

“Come here, then,” he murmured, guiding her with a firm hand until she was in the circle of his arms. She didn’t resist. She couldn’t.

Her hands flattened on his chest, feeling the heat of his skin, the hammering of his heart beneath her palms. He cupped her face and kissed her, slow and deep, stealing the breath from her lungs. When he pulled back, his lips grazed her cheek, then her jaw, then down the slender column of her neck.

Her nipples tightened under his stare, puckering into soft peaks.

“Ye’re beautiful, Erica. Do ye ken that?”

She started to speak, but he silenced her with a kiss to the hollow of her throat.

“Lachlan,” she moaned, her fingers diving into his hair.

He chuckled darkly, a sound of pure male satisfaction. Then he took her nipple into his mouth and sucked, slow and deep, as his hand molded the other breast, his thumb brushing teasing circles.

Erica cried out, her head falling back. She’d never felt anything like it—so consuming, so raw. The way his mouth worked her, his tongue flicking and rolling, sent fire through her veins. When he moved to the other breast, giving it the same attention, she swore her knees would give out.

He knelt between her thighs, his large hands stroking her sides, her belly, trailing lower until his fingers brushed over the waistband of her undergarments.

“May I?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

She gave the faintest nod.

He peeled the last barrier from her skin, slow and reverent, until she lay fully exposed beneath him. The hunger in his eyes turned molten.

“Ye’re tremblin’ again,” he said, his hand sliding up her inner thigh.

“I… I want ye to touch me,” she whispered. “Please, Lachlan.”

His gaze met hers, and something in his expression shifted—fierce and tender all at once.

He bent low and kissed the inside of her thigh, then the other. He slid her legs apart, settling between them, and pressed a lingering kiss just above her folds.

She gasped, her hips jerking.

“I’ll take me time,” he murmured, his warm breath ghosting over her center. “Ye deserve to be worshipped, Erica.”

And then his tongue touched her.

She cried out, one hand flying to her mouth, the other tangling in his hair. He groaned as he tasted her, savoring every slow lick, every flick of his tongue over that aching bud. He circled it, kissed it, then pulled it gently between his lips, drawing a strangled sob from her throat.

Her thighs tried to close around him, but his strong hands held them open, gently, firmly. He wanted all of her. Every sound. Every tremble.

“Gods, ye taste like heaven,” he rasped, before diving in again, his tongue flicking faster now, his mouth hot and relentless.

She arched off the ground, grinding into his face, lost in the rhythm he gave her. Her body climbed higher, every nerve on fire, every muscle taut. When he slipped a finger inside her, slow and deep, she nearly broke apart.

“Lachlan, I—oh—oh gods?—”

He groaned in response, the vibrations from his mouth pushing her over the edge. Her climax crashed into her with the force of a storm, wracking her body with wave after wave of pleasure. Her cries filled the air, wild and free.

But he didn’t stop.

He eased her through it with slow, gentle strokes of his tongue, his lips pressing soft kisses to her slick heat. And only when her hips sagged and her thighs quivered with aftershocks did he lift his head.

Her breath was ragged, her chest heaving, and her eyes glassy with spent desire.

Lachlan moved up her body and lay beside her, pulling her into his arms. Her bare back pressed against his chest, his hand stroking slowly up and down her side, grounding her.

“Sleep now, lass,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to her temple. “I’ve got ye.”

Erica curled closer, her cheek against his chest, heart still fluttering like a bird in flight.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t have to.

For the first time, she understood what it meant to truly belong to someone.