A Highlander's Obsession (Highlander's Beloved) (14 page)

“Look at me, beloved. Watch me as I love ye.”

Her body took a while to accept his girth. As if he were in tune with her body’s needs, he braced himself on his arms and kissed her with long, languid stokes of his tongue that made every cell in her frame sigh with pleasure. He bit her earlobe and she rocked against him.

A soft male chuckle vibrated from his chest. “Are ye ready for me now?”

He slowly withdrew and angled back in, rubbing a spot inside she never knew she had. Her moans accompanied every move he made.
Oh, dear God. He feels so good
. Her abdomen tensed again, desire coiling to the point of discomfort, and her thigh muscles quivered.

“Come for me,” he demanded, the speed of his hips increasing with each thrust.

The strength of her impending orgasm scared her, seized the breath in her lungs. “No. No, it’s too much. You’re too much. I can’t handle it all.”

He entwined his fingers with hers and placed their hands over her head. “I will have ye come all over me,
leannan
. I will feel ye spasm and cover me with yer juices. I will possess all of ye.
All
. I will be content with nothing less.” His cock rubbed her sensitive spot with each command he uttered, and she gave … gave him all he demanded and more.

A cutting sensation bordering between pain and passion cleaved her soul in two before bonding the segments again with an emotion she dare not label. Lungs that worked a minute earlier froze still while every internal part of her body quivered. Gold and red explosions flickered behind clenched eyelids. For an instant, she feared the spasms would never end and then worried they would.

She’d barely recovered when he withdrew and flipped her over on her hands and knees. He rubbed the head of his erection along her wet channel with one hand while he held himself up with his other. With one swift stroke he entered her from behind and leaned across her back. He bit her shoulder and banded his arm around her waist. The man was wild, possessive, and unrelenting. Each stroke deeper than the last. Excitement raced through her system in tandem with another wave of orgasmic tremors and explosive lights sparkling at the edges of her vision. He tensed and roared with his own climax, pulsing within her.

He enfolded her in his arms and legs, rolled to his side and nuzzled her back. “Mine.”

Home was the sensation that filtered through the jumble of emotions jazzing through her brain. In this man’s arms, she was home. The thought should have comforted her. Instead, it carried a heavy dose of anxiety. She’d loved her way into a sensual twilight zone. Leaving him and returning to her life in the States was too painful to contemplate, yet staying here, ignoring
her life and fiancé, was impossible. He kissed her shoulder where he’d bitten her, and she leaned back against his chest and sighed.

“I’ll be back. Let me dispose of this condom.” He stood and sauntered into the bathroom.

By the time he returned, she was dressed and looking for her shoes.

He cupped the curve of her cheek and she turned in to the warmth of his palm. “Are ye okay, beloved?”

Was she? Physically, yes, for he’d satisfied her more than she’d ever imagined a man could. Emotionally? She was a confused mess. “Creigh.” His name was a sigh of need whispered in her breath. “We crossed a line.” She turned, reaching for her glasses.

He flashed her a satisfied grin as he jerked on his jeans. “Aye, lassie. And a damned fine line it was.”

She shook her head and hugged her arms to her waist, turning her back to him to stare into the fireplace. “I’m engaged.”

His hands settled at her hips and he pressed a kiss to her hair. “Things have changed.”

“Are you so arrogant you feel you can order me around, bend me to your will? Make me disregard prior promises I’ve made to Alex?” Her temper warred with remorse. She’d cheated on her fiancé. Tears pooled in her eyes, and she blinked to clear her vision before whirling to face him. “What kind of woman has wild sex with a man she’s just met while she’s engaged to another?” Both of her opened palms rose and then flopped to her sides. “Dear God, I’m a slut. A cheating slut.”

He shook his head. “Ye overreact. Ye are no more a slut than me treasured mum.”

“You don’t understand.” She charged toward her bedroom, intent on a long crying jag and a hot bath to wash away all traces of their lovemaking. Maybe she would email Alex or call him, a gesture of affection to help erase the guilt that had moved into her soul with a three-piece set of luggage.
I should never have come to Scotland
.

As she hurried past the desk outside her room, Creighton grabbed her arm and hauled her to him. “Calm down, lassie. Ye didna plan this. Neither did I. The fates have brought us together.” His hand cupped her cheek and his thumb rubbed her bottom lip. “We canna fight it. I willna give ye up because of a promise ye made to a man who dinna care enough to—”

“Stop!” Sobs racked her body. He had no right to voice the very thoughts she’d had for several months. No woman liked to feel she rated low on a man’s priority list, which is how Alex
made her feel, except when he thought she could earn them more money.

Creighton enveloped her in his arms and made “shushing” sounds. His lips were featherlight whispers of affection on her cheeks as he kissed away her tears. “The American canna help it,
leannan
. He canna love ye the way I do, the way I will.” Creighton’s head dipped, and he kissed her, softly, sweetly, possessively.

A moan escaped her throat. He was right about one thing. Alex had never—could never—stir her like this Scottish mountain of a man. Her hands eased up his chest and across his wide shoulders. Would enjoying him, while she was here, be so wrong? When his tongue swept in to lay siege, all lucid thought escaped her mind.

Through Paisley’s passion-filled fog, a feminine sigh registered. Thinking the sound was Gram, she pulled back. Two whitish semi-transparent beings, oddly dressed, shimmered next to the fireplace. Their forms were outlined in a glowing demarcation, as if to separate the physical from the metaphysical. Air whooshed from her lungs. Her heart stuttered to a stop, did a flip and then beat erratically. A strangled scream crawled from her throat and morphed into a squeak.

Creighton’s hold on her tightened and his large hand swept up her back in a calming motion. “Relax,
leannan
.”

“Who … who …” Her hand shook as she pointed.

His hooded gaze slowly skimmed the fireplace. “Now isna the time fer ye two to make yer ghostly appearance. Canna ye see we’re having a private conversation?”

Aye, with yer tongue down her throat
.

The female ghost elbowed the shadowy man beside her.
I’m so pleased he’s found his mate. Isn’t she lovely, Broden?
She sighed again.
Ye know how I always fancied a good romance
.

Pahhh, American, she is. He needs a good Scottish wife. Although, she does have wide hips to bear him many bairns
. The male spirit made a wide gesture with his hands as if her hips were the width of a washing machine.

Paisley shoved up the sleeves of her sweater, preparing to do verbal battle. “I’ll thank you not to mention my hips. I’ll not be criticized by two ghosts.” She pressed her fingertips to her temples. “This is insane. I can’t believe I’m holding a conversation with spirits. What the hell has happened to my life?” She’d seen a man shift to a bear and made love to him afterward. Her promise to be faithful to Alex had been sullied. Now—she glanced at the shimmering forms—now
she was arguing with the dead. Dear God.

The female spirit cleared her throat.
Language, dear
.

“Oh God, I’m being lectured to by a ghost. I’m truly losing my mind. I have
got
to get out of Scotland.”

Creighton stood behind her and his warm arms enveloped her, pulling her back against a wall of muscle. “Take it easy. I’ll introduce ye to our ghosts.”

Oh, dear, we’ve frightened her
.

“Aye, Great-Grandma Ainsley. Ye have frightened me new friend.”

Pahhh. Does every new friend give ye a hard-on, lad?

Creighton stepped to her side. “Mind yer manners, Great-Grandpa Broden. I’ll not have ye upsetting her.”

Paisley’s glance ricocheted off the ghosts to him. She’d fallen down the hole in that children’s novel that scared her as a child. Was anything real in this castle turned lodge? “Creighton? Were they watching while we … while we …” She swallowed and pinched her eyes shut. She couldn’t bear knowing the truth. There was nothing she could do if the voyeuristic spirits had watched. “I’m leaving for home as soon as I can. My mind can’t take any more.” She turned to enter her bedroom.

The ghost of Ainsley swirled in a white vortex and popped in front of her. Cold fingers reached out, and Paisley drew back.
Nay, ye must stay here and fall in love with the leader of our bear sleuth. Ye are Scottish and Norse, the right blend of ancestry to end the curse
.

Curse? Bears? Ghosts? The room spun and darkness tugged her down.

Creighton sat in the semi-darkened room, his eyes never once leaving Paisley’s sleeping figure. The faint light from the antique wall sconces above her bed cast shadows, allowing her blonde hair to shine against the pink linens.

He’d ordered the ghosts to a different part of the castle after Paisley slumped onto the wooden floors. They’d obeyed, but not before Ainsley fussed over his Paisley’s unconscious form, as any Great-Grandmother should, since she’d scared the lass into a major swoon.

Since arriving at his lodge, Paisley had suffered her share of frights. First, hearing his thoughts, then seeing him in bear form below her window. Ronan’s telling of the Matheson history no doubt upset her. Then seeing him shift and, of course, their lovemaking and the guilt it caused. With the ghosts interrupting their kissing, was it any wonder her mind had reached its capacity?

The urge to protect her surged through him. His Paisley had experienced enough shocks for a while. He’d do whatever he could to shield her from this point forward, starting now, by erasing her memories of this evening.

A strong dose of serious regret twisted his guts. To do so would steal something very precious from both of them.
Bloody hell
.

He planted his elbows on his thighs and forked his fingers through his hair. Damn, he dinna want to do this. His male ego wanted her to remember how he’d made her moan and tremble and climax in his arms. By her reactions, she’d never been loved the way he’d loved her. Had never climaxed with the force he’d created in her. To erase her memories would wound him greatly. He wanted her to recall his kiss, his touch, his sexual domination.
His, dammit, not Alex’s
.

He shouldna undressed and shifted in front of her. Nor should he have tasted her lips, for once he did, all control snapped. The urge to mate with her was primal—beyond strong, beyond reason, beyond control.

Still, she was betrothed to another man. Her betrayal of the American had upset her greatly; for that reason alone, he had to erase her memories. Her feelings had to come before his. She was now more important than he was.

Ours
, his bear insisted.

Aye, I wish she were ours. I would cherish her forever.

Ours
.

Her grandmother referred to Paisley as loyal. Since she’d told him about her parents’ rejection, he understood the lass’s need to be steadfast in her obligations to others—an admirable quality that endeared her to him all the more. Aye, she was the woman for him. Their connection reverberated deep in his soul. Now, as much as he disliked it, he’d give her the chance to decide for herself whom she wanted—a man who didn’t see her true worth or the man who would cherish her for everything she was.

He ran a hand down his face. If Broden and Ainsley hadn’t appeared, scaring Paisley half out of her wits, he’d be lying in bed with her now, buried deep inside her again. He hardened at the thought.

She had a lush body made for a man’s enjoyment, curves to drive him mad with passion, and a fierceness about her that attracted a strong man. A weak man would try to bend and break her spirit. Not him. Nay, he was confident enough in his own masculinity to embrace the power of her stubborn fortitude—and cherish it, by damn. A man would do well to tie himself to such a woman. To treasure her. Make love to her every night until she cried out his name just as she’d done earlier. If possible, he hardened more at the thought of keeping her for himself. His hand slipped beneath his sweater, his fingers sliding across the head of his erection peeping out of the top of his jeans.
Tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then soon. I’ll make love to her again. Soon. Damn soon
.

The urge to go to her, slip out of his clothes and slide beneath the covers grew. His desire to love her was an almost audible thrum through his veins, an exact match to the power of his heartbeat.
Take her … take her … take her
.

Nay. He’d tamp his longing. When they came together again—and they would—she needed to be fully awake and in agreement with their mating. He wanted her to crave him as much as he did her. Together, they’d create new memories. For now, though, he had to erase the entire afternoon and evening from her mind.

If he didn’t, she’d continue to fret about all that had happened between them. Hell, she might even come to believe he’d taken advantage of her ability to communicate with animals by showing her what he was, that perhaps he’d purposely tried to tip the Alex-versus-Creighton
scale in his favor. Her gift was given to her to help heal animals. He had no right to exploit it for his own gain. If she came to love him, he wanted her to do it based on the man he was and how good they were together.

He stood and undressed so he could change form, giving him the power to remove a memory. While it saddened him to erase her mental whisper of their first kiss and their initial time making love, he would cling to those memories for the rest of his life. Her soft lips against his, their tongues in silent, sensual communication, and her mind-numbing moans that heated him to the point of combustion. Dear God, the feel of her tight, hot, wet channel around his cock, clenching and milking him dry. If he lived to be a hundred, he’d carry that memory tucked in the folds of his heart. He forked his fingers through his hair again, pushing it away from his face.
Damn, I want her to recall it too
.