“I must go now.” He rose, threw the articles of his clothing over his shoulder and moved toward the door.

He was going? It was exactly what she wanted. Yet not.

A few feet from the door, Alasdair stopped and turned. “Would you gift me with a wee goodnight kiss?”

Heaven help me. A kiss? Before she knew what she was doing, she stood before him. I am too eager, she realized too late. Her skin heating, she dropped her gaze to the floor. He took her face between his hands, tilting it upward, and kissed her in a lingering brush of his warm lips and tongue against hers. Oh, she had forgotten how his kiss could seduce her in an instant. She opened to receive his tongue and her own licked against his, with a will of its own. A well-spring of hunger rose up from her chest and spurred her into action. She consumed his delectable mouth as if starved.

“Iosa is Muire Mhàthair,” Alasdair growled and pulled her tightly to him as if control had slipped from his fingers.

Desire possessed her, shut down her decorum. Her arms closed around his naked lower back, and she stroked her hands down to his waist. The linen cloth fell away, and his trim hips were bare beneath her hands. She knew she shouldn’t touch him, but she did. She remembered squeezing the powerful flexing muscles of his buttocks when he’d made love to her yesterday.

He moaned, his bare erection prodding her belly. Wetness tickled between her thighs.

His clothing slid from his shoulder. He coaxed her dressing gown from her, then gathered up her smock around her waist, even as he kissed her throat and breathed his hot breath on her. He lifted the garment farther, drawing it off over her head, and took her nipple into his mouth.

Sparkles of delight shimmered through her. “Oh.”

“Mmmm.” He suckled her other nipple. “I have craved these.”

He walked her backward a few steps. Her thighs bumped into the bed, and he gently pushed her down upon it.

“By the saints, Gwyneth, you tempt me to near lunacy.”

She squirmed, restless on the bed. Guilt ambushed her and she squeezed her eyes shut. She should fight this, resist her own desires.

“Look at me,” he murmured.

She did, but seeing him in all his naked glory was a pleasure near too keen to bear. Her gaze dropped, tracing the line of hair down his flat hard belly that led to that most fascinating and masculine part of him. The act of simply observing him filled her with hunger.

She realized she had never been fully naked in the candlelight before a man and tried to yank the linen coverlet over herself. He would surely find her lacking.

“Nay.” Alasdair stayed her hand, and his gaze stroked over her like a physical caress. “You cannot hide from me, Gwyneth. You’re the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.”

She believed him—his sincere, lust-filled eyes couldn’t lie. He didn’t seem to mind that her breasts weren’t large and full like those women deemed most attractive. Her figure was too slim to be called voluptuous. Yet the way he looked at her, with hunger and yearning, made her feel as if she were the most desirable woman on earth.

He lifted her foot and kissed her ankle. With a sigh, she let her eyes drift closed. His lips and beard stubble tickled and scratched, sending a thrill up her leg. He trailed kisses up her calf and flicked his tongue at the back of her knee.

He pushed her legs apart, but she resisted and clenched them tightly together. He shouldn’t look at her there!

“Gwyneth,” he breathed against her bent knees. “Open for me.”

She opened her eyes and found him hovering there, so gorgeous and scandalous, the stubble of his chin rasping and stimulating the sensitive skin of her knees.

“I meant…open your thighs,” he said.

She burned from the inside out, embarrassed more by her own curiosity and a desire to comply than the request itself. “Oh, you are shameless.”

“That I am.” He grinned as if proud of that fact.

And she was shameless too, for her gaze dropped again to his shaft. She studied the thick, erotic shape and sleek, velvety texture of him.

“If you will but open your legs, I shall show you something you’ll never forget.”

“You already have.” Certainly she would never forget how he’d made love to her yesterday.

“I wish to give you another pleasure.” He straightened her legs and laid them flat on the bed. Determined to hold onto a speck of decency, she kept them pressed together.

He kissed her abdomen, her stomach, flicked his tongue into her navel. Tingles spread outward and the heat intensified in her lower belly. He moved in that direction, trailing his lips even into her hair.

“Oh, you cannot,” she gasped and covered her face with her hands.

“I’m wanting to taste you, m’lady. ’Twould be a great pleasure for me.”

He pressed open-mouthed kisses to her mound and upper thighs. Good lord, he did not mean—

When he nudged her thighs apart, she allowed it. Keeping her eyes closed, she felt him crawl between her legs.

The stimulation on her most sensitive flesh was not anything she knew. She opened her eyes and found his head between her legs. In truth, he was licking her. Good heavens! She attempted to close her thighs but this merely locked his head in place. He moaned. Oh, he had no modesty.

And neither did she, for she could not pull away. Could not make him stop.

“You are sweeter and more delicious than pure honey,” he whispered.

His tongue stroked flames of pleasure, such as she’d never imagined, over her, throughout her entire body. She could not break away from the sinful, divine burning, nor did she want to.

With heavy-lidded eyes, he glanced up at her just before he slid his tongue inside her. Blissful agony twisted through her as her yearning for him magnified. His moan vibrated against her. She couldn’t believe what he was doing…and apparently enjoying it as much as she was. He then flicked his tongue briskly against an especially sensitive spot, where the tingles focused and flowed from.

That breathless, impending something she had experienced for the first time yesterday seized her again. She grasped onto the bed linens and cried out when the overwhelming sensation claimed her. Her body was not her own at that moment, but possessed by Alasdair and some instinctive rapture that frightened her. Yet at the same time, the spasm of delight was one she wanted again and again.

When she opened her eyes, Alasdair rose onto his knees between her legs, wiped his lips and gave her mischievous smile. “Did you enjoy that?”

Though somewhat shocked at herself, she nodded. Happiness germinated and flourished inside her. In that moment, all she needed for completion was his smile, his gaze, his touch. His lovemaking.

“’Twas one of the most enjoyable things I’ve ever done.” He moved closer, positioning himself, and an eager thrill spiraled through her. He paused, searching her gaze. “Are you ready for more?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Mmm.” An impassioned frown crossed his features. When he nudged into her, his jutting erection felt hard as sun-warmed marble. A wild need for him rose up, and she thrust her hips toward him. He lifted her feet to his shoulders and pulled her closer. Slid deeper. She hungered for the long, thick shape of him.

The fluid, slick rocking motion of his body into hers and away was the most captivating sensation on earth. Even better than the ecstasy that had crashed over her. She knew she was making wanton noises, moans and little cries, but could not quiet herself. He overwhelmed her.

He licked her ankle, first one, then the other, his mouth, teeth and beard stubble grazing her skin. His magnetic black gaze penetrated her defenses, reached into her soul and made love to it. His eyes said he knew her, accepted her, wanted her.

His gliding movements accelerated and the excitement that swept through her was something she could not get enough of.