![]() “But I told you that you could take me.” She was almost panting now, as though she’d run a great length. “I’ll not be able to stop myself from taking ye.” Her brows drew together in bemused consternation. “Doona touch me, lass,” he commanded, sliding his hands up beneath her dress, his calluses rasping against the silk of her stockings with a delightfully wicked sensation. ![]() “What are you doing?” she gasped, reaching for him, meaning to pull him back against her. Mena’s fingers blindly gripped the stone behind her as frantically as she grasped for her sanity. ![]() ![]() His dark noise was full of masculine victory as he continued his seductive assault on her lips, caressing down the soft curve of her hip, then slid lower, gathering the folds of her skirts in his hand, tugging them up her leg. “Now,” she sobbed against his mouth, too distressed to feel shame at the pleading note in her voice. He kissed her with such scorching thoroughness, he quite erased the last vestiges of rational thought. She tasted the salt of her skin on his lips and the pervasive ache between her legs became a flooding, insistent sort of pain. “Suddenly her hands were pinned above her head, and he was filling her mouth with his tongue. ![]()
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