The Campbell Trilogy (73 page)

She loves me.
God. He didn’t want her love. It was too great a responsibility. He would only hurt her. But for one reckless moment he’d been moved beyond words, humbled by her gift. Almost … happy.

His kiss was brutal, punishing, for making him feel like this. He was desperate. Out of control. Never had he experienced this kind of irrational urgency. He
needed
her. Like a starving man needed food. Like a dying man needed salvation. Now. Before everything went to hell. Before she could change her mind.

Though she seemed in no danger of that. She met him full force, plying his carnal strokes with thrusts and parries
of her own. The sensation of her sweet, silky tongue sliding against his, delving in his mouth with eager abandon, drove him wild.

He drank her in. Her heat. Her sweetness. God, he couldn’t get enough of her. His tongue circled hers, twining and probing in an anxious rhythm that echoed the pulsing of his erection as he carried her toward the bed.

Her soft little sounds of pleasure were only increasing his agony. Her bottom nudged the heavy head of his cock as he held her, and he thought he was going to explode. The temptation to wrap her legs around his waist and plunge into her heat was almost overwhelming. It would be so easy to lift her skirts and smooth his hand over the velvet softness of her naked bottom, lifting her over him as the weight of her body took him deeper and deeper.

Oh, God.
The heavy tug in his groin was unbearable.

What the hell was the matter with him? He was acting like a damn barbarian.

He
was
a damn barbarian. He wanted to take her over and over. Make her come until she could think of no one else but him. Until he proved that she truly belonged to him.

He broke the kiss long enough to lower her to the pallet, forcing himself to slow, to tame the beast raging inside him. Cursing the absence of his plaid, he divested himself of his jerkin, shirt, and boots and lay down next to her.

The soft press of her body stretched out against his was too much. He wanted to sink into her, to feel all that softness envelop him in its healing embrace. Unable to keep his hands off her for a second longer, he slid his palms down her waist and over her hips, molding every sweet curve through the thin gauzy fabric.

He felt like a bairn with a roomful of sweets. He didn’t know where to start, but he was going to eat every sugary piece. Would she melt in his mouth? Dissolve into a warm puddle of syrup?

He scooped up her breasts in his hands. The soft round flesh spilled over his fingers, more lush than he ever could have imagined—and he’d done plenty of that late at night when the discomfort in his loins became unbearable.

Did she touch herself and think of him? He clenched his jaw to fight the surge at the thought of her pale soft hands pleasuring herself while he watched.

Barbarian.

His mouth slid over her jaw and down her throat, her skin as smooth and sweet as cream. “God, you taste incredible,” he murmured, his tongue sliding a teasing path along the edge of her bodice. “I want to lick every inch of you.” He lifted her breasts to his face and nuzzled her lightly, inhaling the warm feminine scent in the deep cleft. His thumb grazed the turgid peak through the silky cloth. “Your tight little nipples.” He looked into her eyes intently. “The soft skin above your thighs.”

Her eyes lit with surprise and then with something far more dangerous … curiosity. This woman could unman him.

She squirmed a little in his arms, her impatience fueling his hunger.

His fingers worked the ties of her gown, loosening it enough to ease it down past her shoulders and lift her breasts over the tight confines of her stays, at last revealing her bare chest to his greedy gaze.

He sucked in his breath, letting it out in short, ragged gasps. He loved breasts—big, small, and everything in between—but Elizabeth’s were nothing short of spectacular. Mind-blowing. Bury-your-face-and-never-want-to-leave. Every man’s erotic fantasy. Lush and round, firm and high, topped by small nipples the same soft pink of her lips. “You’re beautiful,” he groaned.

He almost didn’t want to touch her. The porcelain skin looked so delicate and unblemished—too fine for his big, rough hands. But he couldn’t resist. He cupped her, and the
sensation of all that warm, silky skin under his callused palms forced another groan as he caressed the velvety softness with his hands and fingers.

She didn’t break, she shuddered. Arching into his hand, into his mouth, threading her fingers through his hair insistently. He kissed her gently at first, brushing his lips over the smooth, creamy skin, savoring the taste of her on his tongue. He flicked his tongue over her nipple, using the heat of his breath on her damp skin to increase her pleasure. She beaded and tightened, the petal-pink skin darkening to mouthwatering raspberry.

He tamped down the reflexive surge. Hell, he could come just looking at her.

He couldn’t wait any longer and took the pink pearl between his teeth and tongue. She moaned, a low, throaty sound that called to him in the most primitive way. God, she was ripe. Like a juicy peach that he couldn’t wait to bite into.

He sucked her harder. Deeper. Circling her nipple with his tongue as his hand eased up the edge of her skirt.

She was so incredibly responsive. His hand slid up the inside of her thigh. So incredibly soft. His finger swept her sex, and he jerked, his body weeping to feel the slick heat. So incredibly ready.

He wanted nothing more than to strip her naked and devour every inch of her. To press his lips and tongue against her until she shattered. But that would have to wait; they had a lifetime to explore their passion. Though she’d taken the precaution of barring the door, his men could return at any time or someone could come looking for her.

He teased her with his fingers until her hips began to press against his hand. Until the tiny whimpers increased in urgency. Her hands were on his shoulders, on his arms. Sculpting his muscles, clutching him wildly, begging.

She was going to come.

Oh, yes.
He swelled hard and hot.

He circled her nipple with his tongue, and when he felt her start to break apart, he sucked her deep into his mouth and pressed his finger against her sensitive spot. She cried out, arching her back against his mouth as her body clenched around his finger with a wave of rippling contractions.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her face. She was so beautiful like this, it made his chest ache. Head tossed back. Cheeks flushed. Lips parted. Her raw passion roused him to the breaking point.

He couldn’t wait another minute. He needed to be inside her.

He unfastened his breeches, and his cock sprang free. Big and hard and thick with blood. A pearly drop glistened on the tip.

Her eyes widened.

Before she could think about it, he moved over her, rubbing his sensitive head in her damp heat. The groan that went through him shook his entire body. He gritted his teeth against the urge to plunge deep inside. To relieve the unbearable pressure. She was so wet that it was killing him to go slow. He’d been waiting too long for this.

“Please,” she whispered, looking into his eyes, as if reading his mind. “I need you now.”

The heartfelt desire humbled him as nothing before. He could feel something grip him. An emotion so unfamiliar, he didn’t know what to call it. But he knew that the need he had for this woman had nothing to do with lust. She was hope to a dying man.

He looped his arms under her legs and positioned himself at her entry. Slowly, he began to push inside.

He groaned, the pleasure too intense. The tight clench of her body fisted around him like a velvet glove. “God, you feel incredible.” So amazingly tight. The urge to thrust, to sink into her full hilt, teased the edges of his consciousness.

But he needed to have care for her innocence. Except
that nothing about her responses to him felt innocent. Inexperienced, yes, but not innocent. No maidenly shock. No fear. No pain.

She lifted her hips, urging him deeper, and his entire body clenched with restraint. He was too big and she was too small. But nothing in her expression suggested that he was hurting her. Her eyes were half-lidded, hazy with passion.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her eyes flickered open, meeting his gaze. He detected a flash of anxiety before she shook her head. “You won’t hurt me, Patrick.”

There was something in her voice … He eased into her inch by inch, until he reached the point of no return. Holding her gaze, he thrust, and her body welcomed him without resistance.

Her cry was one of satisfaction, not of pain.

He paused, feeling a moment of surprise, but when she circled her hips he was sucked into a vortex of pleasure so intense that nothing else mattered.

Lizzie was weak with pleasure, her body tingling from the force of the release that he’d teased from her with his skilled fingers—and his mouth. She’d never realized her breasts were so sensitive, but when he’d clasped his lips around her nipple, shards of white hot pleasure had shot through her in a hail of flickering light.

But it was nothing to the sensation of him pushing inside her.

She had to admit that she’d experienced a fleeting moment of doubt when he’d opened his breeches. He was a big man. Thick and long, the heavy round head stood a few inches past his belly button. He was at least twice as big as John—and that had hurt initially.

John.
She should tell him.…

But the moment she felt him rub against her sensitive
flesh, all other thoughts were gone. She wanted to take him into her body. To love him. To give him pleasure and find it in return.

Her body dampened, beckoning him in the most intimate way. The concentration of sensation started all over again as his plump head caressed her, teased her, roused her passion to a frenzied storm.

Until her body was wet and hot with need.

And when she didn’t think she could take another minute of his exquisite torture, he entered her, penetrating inch by incredible inch. Stretching her. Filling her.

And with one last plunge, completing her.

Her body sighed, taking him in as if she’d been waiting for this her whole life.

Perhaps she had.

God, she could feel him. Her body tingled around the rock-hard column that pulsed with life inside her. She was a puddle of sensation, ready to be swept away in a maelstrom of passion and desire.

Then suddenly he stopped.

He knew.

It had always been her intention to tell him, but there hadn’t been time. A flash of panic penetrated the haze. What if he didn’t want her? Their eyes met, and she saw the flicker of surprise. The silent question. But not blame. Not anger.

Relief crashed over her in a warm, shimmering wave of acceptance. The last barrier between them was gone, and Lizzie gave herself over to the power of their lovemaking.

She circled her hips and he started to pump. Slowly at first. Long, languid strokes, sliding in and out with deliberate purpose. Her body clutching around him the entire way—trying to hold on.

He kissed her again. Her mouth. Her breasts. He took one nipple in his mouth, dragging it between his teeth. She moaned at the sensation of his silky lips closing over her.
Laving her with the heat of his mouth and tongue as his arousal stirred her to a wicked frenzy. To a peak such as she’d never known.

She clutched him as if she would never let go, running her hands over his heated skin, over the slabs of tightly defined muscles in his arms and chest, feeling them taut and straining under her fingertips, loving the feel of his hard, powerful body on top of her … inside her.

Propped up over her, he was magnificent, his shoulders impossibly wide and powerful. Tight bands of muscle lined his stomach with every thrust. Just looking at him made her feel weak all over. His dark, silky hair slid forward across his handsome face, tight with the effort to control.

But she didn’t want control. She wanted to see the depths of his need for her, the depths of his very soul. She wanted all of him.

“Harder,” she urged him on. “Don’t hold back.”

His eyes were dark with passion. “I can’t. I’ll hurt you.”

“You won’t.” Her hands gripped his hard flanks and pulled him forcefully against her, lifting her hips to take him even deeper. “Please …”

It was all the encouragement he needed. He let go, and she welcomed him with all the love and acceptance in her heart.

He sank into her again, holding her gaze as he touched the deepest part of her. Again and again. Harder and faster.

He was amazing. All his power, his fierceness, unleashed inside her.

She clenched him tighter with her body, dragging each stroke from him. Until the violent crescendo reached its highest peak. Until all the love she felt for this amazing man converged into one perfect moment of sensual bliss.

It was magic.

This was love. What had happened with John Montgomery paled in comparison with the breathless splendor she felt in Patrick’s arms. Not just the pleasure that overwhelmed
her body, but the closeness. The emotional connection that made everything so intense. Every touch. Every kiss. Every stroke reverberated through her like wildfire. She felt cherished. Protected. Loved.

And at that perfect moment—when her heart stopped and her body clutched in one last gasp—they touched heaven together.

Their shared cries of release tangled in the warm, sultry air of their pleasure.

The warm rush of his release was caught in the rippling tide of her own.

Their eyes met and wouldn’t let go—not even when the last shudder of their bodies had ebbed. And what she saw there touched her soul.

Tears of happiness blurred her vision. Lizzie had found her heart’s desire. She loved him, and he loved her. He might not be ready to admit it, but the truth was there in the emerald depths of his heated gaze.

Patrick rolled to the side so as not to crush her, feeling as if he’d just run into a stone wall. Every bone in his body crushed. Every muscle ripped to shreds. Once he’d spent almost a week on the run in the Lomond Hills, evading a score of Campbells, without sleep or food and very little water. He felt like that now. When it had all been over, he’d slept for two days.