Highland Heather - Highland Heather Part 63
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Highland Heather Part 63

"Are you afraid, love?" With his finger Morgan traced the curve of her brow, the slope of her cheek, the outline of her lips.

Love. His endearment filled her with sudden yearning.

"Aye. I am terrified."

He touched his lips to hers and murmured, "There is no reason to be. I promise I will not hurt you. I will never hurt you, Brenna."

"That is not what I fear." She drew back.

"I am afraid I will not please you."

With his hand at her back he drew her firmly against the length of him.

"You already please me, Brenna." Brenna. Brenna. Her name sang like a litany in his mind. Never would he grow weary of saying her name.

"You are the loveliest creature I have ever known. All the beauty, all the goodness of this world, are in your eyes."

She gave him a timid smile.

He sensed her uneasiness. With a gentle smile he said, "Trust me. It is true we are about to go to a new place. And the unknown is always frightening. But we go there together, love."

He buried his lips in the hair at her temple and felt the wild beating of her pulse. Forcing himself to go slowly, he moved his lips along her cheek to the tip of her nose.

"Such a haughty little turned-up nose," he murmured.

She chuckled and he felt her relax in his arms.

"You do not like my nose?"

"It is a fine nose. And your lips." He nuzzled the corner of her mouth until she sighed with impatience and turned her head until his lips were covering hers.

"Such perfect lips." His words mingled with her breath and were swallowed up in the kiss. He lingered over her lips, loving the way they felt beneath his. Soft. Seductive. Inviting.

His hands moved along the warm, naked flesh of her back, igniting little fires wherever they touched.

"You are so small, Brenna. So delicate." He lifted himself on one elbow to allow his gaze to study her. Her skin was washed by moonlight. With a kind of reverence he trailed his hand along the soft curve of her hip to her narrow waist, then upward to the swell of her breast.

"So beautiful."

She closed her eyes and he pressed his lips to her closed lids. As he explored her face with his lips, she relaxed, allowing herself to drift on a hazy cloud of contentment.

His lips traced her eyebrow, her cheek, her ear. With his tongue he traced the outline of her lips, then lingered, savoring all her sweetness.

The kiss was a promise of more. So much more.

He lifted her hand to his lips, then pressed a kiss to her palm and closed her hand around it. She trembled as he kissed her wrist, her elbow, her shoulder. She laughed softly as he nuzzled her neck.

Before she realized what he was doing, he bent his head. With the merest brush of his lips he pressed a kiss to her hipbone. She flinched and tried to draw away, but he held her firmly while his lips trailed the flare of her hips to her waist. She lay steeped in pleasure as he ran kisses across the soft flesh of her stomach, then upward across her rib cage.

Never had she dreamed that a man's lips could bring such pleasure.

He heard her quick intake of breath as his lips encountered the swell of her breast. As his mouth found her erect nipple, he heard her moan.

She felt the jolt, then the slow flame begin to build deep within her until she felt herself burning with need. Wild, pulsing need that drove her to clutch at the bed linens and arch herself tensely.

As he brought his lips from one breast to the other she sobbed and clutched his head, dragging his lips to hers. With a moan he dragged her against him and covered her lips in a hot, hungry kiss. She clung to him, loving the strength she could feel in him. Yet, despite his strength, she could sense the supreme effort he made to hold his needs at bay. He was exerting careful control, she realized, in order to give her the time she needed.

She was afraid to touch him. And yet the urge to run her hands over his naked torso was too tempting to ignore. She reached a tentative finger to his chest, then drew back, embarrassed by her boldness.

"Touch me again, Brenna."

At his urging she touched a hand to his chest and rubbed her open palm across the mat of hair. A bubble of laughter escaped her lips.

"It tickles."

He smiled up at her. She was such a wonder. Such a delight.

Her fingertips brushed his nipples and she felt them harden. Instantly she drew her hand away, but he reached out and pulled it to him.

"Nay.

Do not stop, little one. "

She ran a hand along his shoulder and thrilled to the ripple of muscle beneath her palm. Suddenly she encountered the raised scar made by her dirk when she had fought him in the Highlands. The laughter faded from her eyes.

"I cannot bear that I inflicted this pain on you."

"It no longer hurts, Brenna."

"But it was made by my hand." Without thinking she brought her lips to the spot.

Instantly the heat flared, until he was engulfed by fire. He gave a moan low in his throat.

His reaction to her touch gave her new courage. Growing bolder she brought her hands to the flat planes of his stomach and" felt him flinch.

Could it be that her mere touch had the power to weaken this mighty soldier?

"Afraid, my lord?" Laughter warmed her tone.

"Nay, witch." His dark eyes were full upon her, daring her.

"Afraid only that you will stop."

Accepting his challenge she moved her hand lower still, until her hand encountered the waistband of his breeches. When her fingers fumbled with the fasteners, he helped her, until this last barrier between them was discarded.

She studied him in the glow of moonlight and found herself marveling at the beauty of his body. How perfectly the angles and planes of his muscled body complemented the softness of hers.

"Touch me, Brenna. Touch me before the madness overtakes me."