For the Highlander's Pleasure Read Online Free Page B

the part of her brain in charge of cool reason had vanished.
Gently his lips moved over hers. Soft, warm, persuasive. Her heart beat wildly, her limbs immobilized by some alluring curiosity to see what would happen next as his kiss seemed to take complete possession of her.
Finn’s palms rested on her hips steadying her for the tender assault on her mouth. His tongue slid softly along the seam, startling her lips apart.
It seemed that had been his intent, his tongue and his body pressing into her. She might have been frightened by the unexpected invasion except that his every touch brought her exquisite—surprising—pleasure.
’Twas the fault of the herbs. She’d suffered all eve, forced to sit prettily and entertain a guest when her skin burned beneath her gown. And no matter that Finn had sounded like an arrogant knave to claim he knew the cure for what ailed her—apparently he did. Because everywhere he touched sang at the contact.
The fever in her cooled and burned hotter by turns—but this burning was a vast improvement to the nagging discomfort that she’d suffered through the supper hour. Wherever Finn touched—her waist, her back and her hips—melted and softened until she conformed to him. If that hadn’t undone her completely, his kiss robbed her of speech, teaching her a pleasure so wickedly decadent she did not know how she would live down the shame of it once they broke apart.
Arching up on her toes, she savored the moment, since she would have to face the aftermath either way. Surely she could linger just enough to take pleasure in the sweet art of kissing under an expert’s tutelage. And, aye, this man knew what he was about. For all his size and arrogance, he used his tongue with enticingly gentle skill that coaxed her lips apart and made her heart race for more. The stroke and slide of that possessive kiss made her limbs weak with desire.
Need.
A realization washed through her along with the longing. This was the cure for Morag’s horrid potion. The wise woman had not given Violet herbs to inspire love. She had prepared some foul mixture that merely produced unbridled lust.
“Nay!” She eased back, breathing hard and barely clinging to her dignity. “I dare not.”
Her chest grazed his with each deep breath. The slight pressure made her breasts tighten beneath her gown, a delicious friction that tempted her to press harder against the virile Highland warrior.
Finn’s eyes glittered in the torchlight with a predatory gleam. Outside, thunder from a spring storm rumbled along the lands and sent a tremor beneath her feet.
“Ignoring it only makes it worse,” he confided, his voice so silken it sent shivers of longing through her. His fingers sifted through the hair at the base of her skull, lightly skimming her neck.
She tipped her head back, seeking more of his touch. Her eyes closed, shutting out everything except the way his hands felt on her. Pleasure tripped through her, taking the place of the burning need until she found herself pressing against him again. His thigh parted hers, a hard, heavy weight between her thighs even though her skirts muted the sensation.
Blindly, she gripped his shoulders, holding him in place. With her eyes shut, she could keep him close another moment without guilt swallowing her up. Just now she needed the relief only he could provide. It was all she could do not to rub her whole body against him like a cat.
“You’re so warm.” He spoke over her skin, his breath a soft whisper along her neck as he bent to kiss her there.
She arched back, curving into him. Inviting whatever he could give her for this moment. His lips trailed kisses lower, claiming the place her wayward neck cloth had once covered. With his teeth, he clamped on the butterfly brooch and tugged it away from her collarbone, exposing more skin.
In a trice, he kissed her high on her chest, licking a path down toward the tightly laced bodice. Down toward one plump swell straining against the