Cupping his cheek against her palm, she kissed him, a caress of invitation and promise. The stubble on his jaw felt prickly yet delightful against her fingertips, the dark bristles shading the contours of his face. He looked every bit the devil then, just as he had that first night in Inverness.
His heartbeat played a strong, steady rhythm against her breast. His breath was ragged, his cock hard against her belly, his need potent. His length throbbed against her, stirring her hunger anew. Yet he made no attempt to claim her. Even as she molded herself to him, he kept his muscles tight, his desire controlled.
How she wanted to take him into her warmth. Then and there. Never had she considered something so decadent, so unrestrained. The very notion thrilled her.
The hem of her skirt skimmed her calf as the fabric fell back in place. Very gently, he released her and edged away, putting a scant few inches between their bodies.
“Ye could drive a man to madness.” Sensual hunger darkened his eyes. For a breath, it seemed he could see into her soul. “But I’ll carry this no further.”
“And if I wish for more?”
He brushed the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip, still tender from his kiss. “Ye’ve nothing to regret, Johanna. And neither do I. ’Tis my intention to keep it that way.”
“I have no call for regrets.”
The corners of his full, delicious mouth lifted. “I’m no fool. If ye lay with me, it willnae change a damn thing. That book cannae leave Dunnhaven. No matter how tempting yer sweet body might be.” He spoke in a quiet, even tone, each syllable measured and controlled. Only the tension in his jaw betrayed the cost of his restraint.
His words struck like a blow, an unexpected slap against her cheek. The gall of the man. He’d kissed her senseless, brought her to a crescendo of pleasure. And now, he stood there, looking down at her with an arrogance she longed to strip away and trample with her heels.
Planting her hands on her hips, she pulled back her shoulders. Arching her back to hike her chin to maximum effect, she met his eyes. “You believe I intended to seduce you? To bend you to my will, no less? How very absurd.”
“Ah, lass. I don’t believe it. I know it.” His fingertips glided over her cheek, threaded through the uncooperative tresses that threatened to tumble over her shoulders. “Ye consider yerself a woman of the world. Ye’re not quite an innocent. But ye’re not used to playing these games.” Again, his thumb swept over the fullness of her lower lip. “I am, love.”
…
Connor dropped his hands to his sides and coiled his fingers into loose fists, struggling to keep from reaching out to her again. If Johanna had any idea how damn much he wanted to pull her to him, tug up her skirts, and thrust himself into her sweet body, she’d most likely run from him. Despite the passion in her kiss and the seeking exploration of her touch, the lass wasn’t ready for such complete possession. No, Johanna deserved a gentle seduction, a time when she would learn his body and all the pleasures a man could bring a woman.
He took in the set of her finely carved jaw, the press of her lips into an unyielding seam. Fury blended with a hint of pain in Johanna’s wide blue eyes. He hadn’t expected his words to wound her. To the contrary, he’d done them both a favor by ending this seductive battle of wills before she had true cause for regret. If he kissed her again—bloody Christ, if he touched her—he might not be able to walk away. He damn well wasn’t about to take her like some common tavern wench. They were in a stable, for God’s sake.
And she was an innocent, for all of her attempts to appear a woman of experience. Whether she still possessed her maidenhead was a question he’d not yet answered, but he’d no doubt she’d never lain with a man who fully awakened her body. She’d never experienced a man who had savored the taste and feel and smell of her, a man who hungered for her as the finest of delicacies. Not before he’d taken her into his arms.
He’d shown her pleasure. If only he had her to himself. In his bed. For a day. A night. Wicked hours with Johanna naked between his sheets. His and his alone.
What he wouldn’t give to strip her bare and run his hands over every inch of that satin flesh. The softest hint of roses tinged her natural scent, her feminine essence melding with the wafting aroma of flowers on a warm, summer night. Her breasts were perfect. Rounded and firm and just the right size to fill his hands with their softness. The image set his cock to aching, damn his traitorous thoughts.
Someday, he’d see to it that they finished what they’d started.
But this was not the time.
Now, he could not afford any distractions. Johanna had come to him in the stables with one purpose in mind, obtaining the ransom to rescue her niece. If only it were that simple, he’d hand the damned book and map over to her, hitch up a carriage, and deliver her to Cranston.