lad, slightly erratic and rhythmic at the same time.
“Tell me why I should waste my first kiss on ye, Alec. It’s no’ as though ye care for me.” Her voice was quiet but strong.
“I care for you, Sorcha. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be taking such great pains to keep you safe.” She began to sputter out a retort, but he pressed a finger to her lips. “I don’t want you to be hurt.”
“Ye think ye ken somethin’ about hurt?” she asked quietly, her body melting a little against his.
Alec pretended to think it over. “Maybe a little,” he finally acquiesced. “I’m afraid you have these grand notions of how love should be. And that no one is going to live up to your expectations. Then you’ll be disappointed and disillusioned.”
Before he could say one more word, Sorcha reached up and pulled his head down to hers. Her lips very shyly and very softly touched his. He kept his eyes open and stared at her, and she stared back. She had a “What do I do now?” look in her eye.
Very gently, he sipped at her lower lip, drawing her body flush against his with the arms that were still around her waist. Her eyes closed, and her breath kicked up as he tilted his head and fit his mouth to hers. Her apple blossom scent reached his nose twofold, nearly overwhelming him.
He’d hoped to teach her a lesson. That she should be careful of dangerous men. That kissing some monster in the dark wasn’t what she really wanted. That it wasn’t any part of the love she sought. But he was the one who was flabbergasted.
Her hands slid from around his neck and then down his lapels, where they slid beneath his jacket. Then they were everywhere, and Alec didn’t know when his intentions changed. But he suddenly went from being her instructor to the one being taught. She learned as he kissed her, every tilt of the head that he tried on her, she tried out in return.
She sucked at his lower lip as her hands roved across his waist and around to his back.
Alec’s hands went on a journey of their own, emboldened by her raw sensuality. He slid around her waist and down her back to roll over her pert little bottom, which he squeezed gently, drawing her against his stiffness. She gasped and pulled back, her mouth open as she tried to catch her breath. She looked from his eyes to his lips and back again, as though deciding her next move.
His teeth ached almost as much as his manhood. The essence of her called to him. He wanted to partake of every part of her, from her drugging kisses to her sweet little derriere, and he wanted to kiss all the places in between.
But then he heard the beat of hooves on the road behind them. “Sorch,” he groaned.
“What?” she breathed back.
“We can’t do this,” he said as he pulled her arms from his waist where they still roamed, driving him crazy.
“All right,” she acquiesced breathlessly as she let him set her from him. She swayed only slightly before she reached up to touch her lips with her fingertips. Then her eyes met his. And he wanted to drag her back into his arms.
Radbourne and his motley twin brothers pulled up short beside the coach and took in the scene before them. The twins instantly put their heads together and began to talk.
Radbourne walked his mount toward Sorcha. If he put one finger on her, Alec would rip his head from his wolfish shoulders. “Did you have trouble with the coach?” the viscount asked.
“No.” Sorcha dragged her eyes from Alec to focus on the three wolves. “I had trouble with Mr. MacQuarrie,” she sighed. “I was just about ta walk home. He’s a beastly man when he’s in a temper.”
“Then allow me to be your knight in shining armor,” Radbourne said.
Knight in shining armor? Alec somehow managed not to snort. His maker had been a benevolent knight in the service of Richard the Lionheart and had followed his King into battle. Viscount Radbourne was a poor imitation of the Earl of Blodswell or any other man of his stature.
The viscount
“Tell me why I should waste my first kiss on ye, Alec. It’s no’ as though ye care for me.” Her voice was quiet but strong.
“I care for you, Sorcha. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be taking such great pains to keep you safe.” She began to sputter out a retort, but he pressed a finger to her lips. “I don’t want you to be hurt.”
“Ye think ye ken somethin’ about hurt?” she asked quietly, her body melting a little against his.
Alec pretended to think it over. “Maybe a little,” he finally acquiesced. “I’m afraid you have these grand notions of how love should be. And that no one is going to live up to your expectations. Then you’ll be disappointed and disillusioned.”
Before he could say one more word, Sorcha reached up and pulled his head down to hers. Her lips very shyly and very softly touched his. He kept his eyes open and stared at her, and she stared back. She had a “What do I do now?” look in her eye.
Very gently, he sipped at her lower lip, drawing her body flush against his with the arms that were still around her waist. Her eyes closed, and her breath kicked up as he tilted his head and fit his mouth to hers. Her apple blossom scent reached his nose twofold, nearly overwhelming him.
He’d hoped to teach her a lesson. That she should be careful of dangerous men. That kissing some monster in the dark wasn’t what she really wanted. That it wasn’t any part of the love she sought. But he was the one who was flabbergasted.
Her hands slid from around his neck and then down his lapels, where they slid beneath his jacket. Then they were everywhere, and Alec didn’t know when his intentions changed. But he suddenly went from being her instructor to the one being taught. She learned as he kissed her, every tilt of the head that he tried on her, she tried out in return.
She sucked at his lower lip as her hands roved across his waist and around to his back.
Alec’s hands went on a journey of their own, emboldened by her raw sensuality. He slid around her waist and down her back to roll over her pert little bottom, which he squeezed gently, drawing her against his stiffness. She gasped and pulled back, her mouth open as she tried to catch her breath. She looked from his eyes to his lips and back again, as though deciding her next move.
His teeth ached almost as much as his manhood. The essence of her called to him. He wanted to partake of every part of her, from her drugging kisses to her sweet little derriere, and he wanted to kiss all the places in between.
But then he heard the beat of hooves on the road behind them. “Sorch,” he groaned.
“What?” she breathed back.
“We can’t do this,” he said as he pulled her arms from his waist where they still roamed, driving him crazy.
“All right,” she acquiesced breathlessly as she let him set her from him. She swayed only slightly before she reached up to touch her lips with her fingertips. Then her eyes met his. And he wanted to drag her back into his arms.
Radbourne and his motley twin brothers pulled up short beside the coach and took in the scene before them. The twins instantly put their heads together and began to talk.
Radbourne walked his mount toward Sorcha. If he put one finger on her, Alec would rip his head from his wolfish shoulders. “Did you have trouble with the coach?” the viscount asked.
“No.” Sorcha dragged her eyes from Alec to focus on the three wolves. “I had trouble with Mr. MacQuarrie,” she sighed. “I was just about ta walk home. He’s a beastly man when he’s in a temper.”
“Then allow me to be your knight in shining armor,” Radbourne said.
Knight in shining armor? Alec somehow managed not to snort. His maker had been a benevolent knight in the service of Richard the Lionheart and had followed his King into battle. Viscount Radbourne was a poor imitation of the Earl of Blodswell or any other man of his stature.
The viscount
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