And still, he kissed her, that sensuous mouth of his stirring her need with each passionate caress.
One large hand skimmed her hip, gliding higher, glancing over her corset-covered ribs. His long fingers made short work of the buttons on her blouse. He peeled the silk bodice from her body. His touch scorched through the flimsy fabric of her combination, stroking tiny, precise circles over her breast. He brushed the pad of his thumb over the sensitive bud of her nipple, light as a butterfly’s wing brushing a flower petal, each caress stoking the fire simmering deep within.
The nub pebbled beneath his sensuous attentions. He dragged in a harsh breath, and then, he smiled. Masculine satisfaction gleamed in those mesmerizing eyes. He knew he’d stirred her desire. Something in his gaze told her this was only the beginning.
“You need to be touched, Johanna.” His words were a gruff whisper. His expression softened, a clear question in the way he studied her, awaiting her reaction. He would not do anything she did not wish him to do.
“Yes.” Astonishing, really, that she’d voiced the word, the simplest of agreements. And yet, utterly profound in meaning. For so long, she’d denied her own needs, her own desires. And now, this magnificent man wanted her. He’d offered her the choice. How very rare, to feel in control, to accept pleasure or deny it.
With a smile that promised sweet, wicked things, he trailed soft kisses along the column of her throat, venturing lower still to capture her nipple between his lips. Such heaven, that luxurious caress. Each stroke of his tongue against her flesh conjured a potent ache, a deep, delicious throb.
Capturing her against his body, his oh-so-devilish mouth continued its sensual plunder. She wanted more. More of these scandalous kisses. More of his bold touch. More of him.
“Ye’re so damn beautiful,” he breathed against her ear, his voice husky with need.
He kissed her again. With small, unhurried movements, he eased her back, toward a rough-hewn wall of the stable. Weathered wood planks, hard and cold, pressed against her spine. He cushioned her with one arm as his free hand caught at her skirt.
Hiking up the fabric, he let out a groan, low and throaty. He wanted her. There was no denying that. Just as she was hopelessly drawn to him.
His chest rose and fell as he pulled in a breath, seeming to restrain his passion. And then, he was touching her. His supple fingers trailed over her thighs. Heating her desire. Spurring the fire within to a blaze.
A whisper-soft moan escaped him. His teeth caught her ear lobe. Playful. Gentle. Loving.
She relaxed against him, content in his arms, craving his tender exploration of her body.
He let out a breath, seeming to savor his desire for her. His warm, steady touch grazed her sensitive flesh, trailing a steamy path. Her body went taut, and a shiver coursed over her skin as his fingers danced over her inner thighs. Feather soft, yet staking his possessive claim.
And then, those clever fingers found the slit in her drawers.
The contact was electric. Searing and tender. Wicked and heavenly.
Decadent ribbons of sensation flooded her. She gasped. He silenced her with the softest of kisses.
“Let me pleasure ye.” His desire-roughened plea brushed her lips.
Her breath hovered in her throat and her lids drifted shut. “Yes,” she murmured again, the word quiet as a sigh.
“So lovely.” Passion deepened his voice. “So soft. So lush.”
Each sweep of his fingers rippled exquisite sensation through her body. His touch intoxicated her. Claimed her. Pleasured her as she’d never dared to imagine.
The heady bliss intensified into a swirling current, a primal craving deep within herself. Instinctively, she surrendered, immersing herself in wave upon wave of desire.
And still he kissed her, even as his wanton touch drove her to a frenzy of wanting.
The current strengthened. Throbbing. Aching Demanding.
“My sweet Johanna.”
How delicious, the sound of her name, tinged with his rugged brogue. She drank in the rich, velvet notes. Each brush of his fingertips conjured more streams of decadent longing, the clean, male scent of him intensifying her need. The current swelled to a rogue wave. It seemed a dam surrounded her, imprisoning the sensations even as her body yearned for the power of release.
Without warning, the dam collapsed. A vortex pulled her in. Delight cascaded over her, melded with an ache so acute, it seemed akin to pain. Pleasure, pure and total, engulfed her, as Connor’s name became a desperate whisper on her lips.
He held her then, enfolding her in his arms. At that moment, she was utterly vulnerable. Yet she’d never felt as sure of her heart’s desire.