Taken by the Laird by Margo Maguire Page B

heaven, she did. She wanted more of his touch, more of his kisses. She could no longer deny that she wanted to feel the heat and exhilaration of his embrace.
    His head descended and his mouth captured hers in a searing kiss. He pressed his tongue against the barrier of her lips, and Bree opened on a sigh, allowing him in. He speared her with his tongue, and Briannafelt as though she were being consumed. There was a fire in him, and it burned away her logic, her sensibility. His touch robbed her of self-control, and she responded with abandon. She encircled his waist with her arms, then skimmed her hands down to his bare buttocks.
    “Yes. Ach, touch me.”
    His body was hard, yet the skin below his waist was smooth. Bree was fascinated by the contrasting textures of his body, hard and firm, but at the same time, smooth as the finest silk. The rasp of the hair on his legs brought a groan to her lips.
    When he nuzzled her neck at the sensitive corner of her jaw, she sighed with pleasure, then arched her back at the touch of his hand at her breast. She moaned when he circled her nipple with the tips of his cool fingers. She willed him to touch it, to put his mouth on it and suckle as he’d done the night before.
    He finally lowered his head and licked the hard peak, and Bree shuddered with arousal. Their bodies separated slightly with his movement, and she touched his chest, slipping her fingers through his coarse hair until she found his nipples. He groaned when she caressed them, and moved his hand down her belly, his destination her most private parts.
    Brianna let out a harsh breath when he touched her, fondling some hidden place that responded exactly the way flint sparked when struck by steel. She grabbed the straw on either side of her and opened for him, afraid he might stop, stunned and mystified by her body’s reaction to his touch.
    “Ah, lass, you’re wet for me.”
    He kissed her mouth again, and used one finger to enter her while his thumb kept up the same caresses that made her wild for something more. A deeper touch, a stronger stroke. “Please,” she cried.
    “I need to be inside you,” he rasped, shifting to move between her legs. He took hold of her hand and placed it on his hard member, then guided it to the spot his own fingers had just abandoned.
    She pressed the velvet tip of his erection to the private place that hungered for him. “Now,” she whispered, her need replacing what little bit of good sense she still possessed. “Now, please.”
    He pushed into her, moving slowly, gently breaching her maiden’s sheath until he could hold back no longer. He plunged deeply, then held still for a moment, trembling above her, lowering his forehead to hers. He swallowed thickly. “Are you all right?”
    Bree did not know. “Yes,” she said, moving against him with a whimper, anxious to feel more of the building sensations. “I-I…need…”
    He slid back, and a powerful tightening pooled in Bree’s lower extremities. Her muscles felt as though they would explode, and when he pushed back in, her body moved with the rhythm he set. The friction of their bodies stoked a deep, primal pleasure in her, and when a sudden exquisite spasm overtook her, she shuddered with primitive gratification, the repeated contraction of her muscles pulling her into some perfect netherworld.
    The laird continued to move, sliding in and out of her with increasing speed until he stopped suddenly, groaning deeply and trembling violently with the climax of his own pleasure.
     
    “ ’Tis a far better method of getting warm than arguing, is it not?” Hugh said, using a glib tone, rather than expressing his wonder.
    He’d shared the bed of many a skilled lover, but no one had ever roused his passions as Bridget MacLaren had done. Every untutored touch and caress had raised his arousal to a higher level, until he’d felt as though his entire being had been caught in a maelstrom of sensation.
    If he’d had any question about