The Campbell Trilogy by Monica Mccarty

they both wanted—and covered her mouth with his.
    So this was desire. This all-consuming need. The heat. The feeling that if he didn’t kiss her right now, she would die. Nothing could have prepared Caitrina for the conflagration of emotions surging through her body. She was on fire, her skin hot and sensitive to the touch.
    When his lips finally touched hers, she sighed against his mouth. It was the same as before, only stronger, more intense. How could something so new and unfamiliar feel so right? It was as if she’d been waiting for this her whole life.
    His lips were firm and soft, entreating but not demanding. His hand cupped her chin, the rough pads of his fingers caressing with such tenderness that she felt her heart squeeze with longing. It didn’t seem possible that a man known for his ruthlessness could be so gentle.
    Everything about this kiss was tender and sweet, but it wasn’t enough. Not to quiet this strange yearning burgeoning inside her.
    As if he could sense her need, he kissed her again, this time using his mouth and fingers to deftly urge her lips apart.
    At the first sweep of his tongue, she gasped. But her shock was quickly forgotten in the maelstrom of new sensations rippling through her. He tasted her again, stroking deeper and deeper with his tongue. It was exquisite, this joining, the dark, carnal taste of him; the melding of their mouths and tongues. He parried and feinted with long, slow strokes, the gentle teasing sending a wild fluttering to her stomach and driving her mad with longing.
    She couldn’t seem to get close enough. She wrapped her hands around his neck, stretching her body more fully against his. He felt incredible, so warm and hard, she just wanted to dissolve against him. There was something undeniably rousing about the power of his hard warrior’s body. She ran her hands over the heavy bunch of muscles at his shoulders, savoring the strength harnessed under her fingertips. Her nipples hardened, straining against the muscled wall of his chest.
    He was magnificent. And he wanted her, she could feel it drumming inside him. But he kept a tight rein on his passion. She knew he didn’t want to frighten her given what had just happened. But Jamie was nothing like Torquil MacNeil. Instinctively, she knew that he would never hurt her. His control was admirable, but perversely it egged her on—she wanted him falling apart, as she was.
    Tentatively, she reached her tongue out to meet his. He groaned, tightening his hold around her waist, molding her body more firmly against his. More intimately. She felt the evidence of his desire hard and powerful against her stomach, and heat pooled between her legs.
    The excited beat of his heart against hers urged her on.She gave herself over to the kiss, meeting every stroke with one of her own. The heat between them was building to explosion. Her skin felt tight and sensitive, aching for his touch. Unconsciously, she rubbed against him, seeking the relief that only friction could bring.
    This was madness, but she couldn’t get enough. The kiss turned more frantic, deeper, wetter, hungrier. She felt the imprint of his hand on her waist, on her ribs, sliding up to cup her breast.
    She trembled, never imagining that she could so crave a man’s touch. His mouth dropped to her jaw, to her neck, and down her chest. The scrape of his jaw blazed a path of fire along her skin. She shivered as the warmth of his breath and the wetness of his tongue made her skin prickle. But nothing prepared her for the sensations that took hold when his tongue slid below the edge of her bodice. She gasped with surprise and then pleasure to feel the wet heat of his tongue sliding over her nipple. He’d loosened the laces of her bodice and gently scooped her breasts over her stays.
    His voice was rough and husky as he ran his thumb over the hardened tip of her nipple.
    “God, you’re beautiful.”
    For a moment, reality intruded. Embarrassed, she felt the heat of a