Ah, so the stones are still here, she thought dimly. Or I’m still here. Or something.
Then his mouth was hot and hungry on hers and she couldn’t have cared less where she was or wasn’t. She might have been leaning up against a great big nasty, winter-starved bear for all she cared, because Dageus was kissing her as if his life depended upon their tangle of tongues and the heat between them.
He sealed his mouth tightly over hers, his velvety tongue seeking, claiming. He thrust his hands into her wet curls, wrapping handfuls of it around his fists, holding her head cradled in his big, powerful hands, his hot tongue plunging deep into her mouth.
He kissed like no man she’d ever known. There was something about him, a rawness, an earthy sensuality that bordered on barbaric, something she’d never be able to explain to someone else. A woman had to be kissed by Dageus MacKeltar to fully understand how devastating it was. How it could bring a woman to her knees.
For a moment she couldn’t even move. Could only take his kiss, not manage the strength to return it. She felt like she was being consumed, and knew that sex with him would be a little bit dirty and a whole lot raw. No inhibitions. She’d been tied to his bed with silken scarves; she knew what kind of man he was. Dizzy, light-headed, she clung to him, arching against him, reveling in the sensation of his big hands gliding over her body, one burrowing impatiently beneath her bra to close roughly over her breasts, teasing her nipples, the other cupping her bottom and lifting her against him. Feverishly, she wrapped her legs around his powerful hips.
She was so aroused that she throbbed, aching and empty. She whimpered into his mouth when he shifted that last bit, fitting them together so the hard ridge of him was cradled in her yielding heat. Oh, finally! After denying herself, refusing to even let herself think about it, he was there, trapped snugly in the vee of her thighs, huge, hot man. He braced her back against the stone again, grinding himself against her, driving her to an erotic frenzy.
Tangling her fingers in his thick silky hair, she strained against him, arching forward each time he thrust, meeting him. His lips were locked to hers, his tongue deep in her mouth. She was delirious with need. Her defenses had not merely dropped, they’d toppled, and she wanted shamelessly, everything, all that he’d been teasing her with for so long now.
As if he’d read her thoughts, he captured one of her hands in his and guided it between them, pressing her palm to the hard ridge in his jeans, and she gasped when she realized how big he was. She’d only caught a glimpse of him when he’d dropped his towel, but she’d been wondering about him ever since she’d found those incriminating condoms. It wasn’t going to be easy to take him, she thought, with a dark erotic shiver. Everything about him was too much man, and it exhilarated her, seduced her into finally acknowledging her most private fantasies. By his sheer nature, he was the answer to them all. Dark, dominant, dangerous man.
She touched him frantically, trying to shape her fingers over him through his jeans, but the damn things were too constricting, strained by his heavy bulge. She gave a small whimper of frustration and, growling savagely, he shifted her in his arms, braced her against the stones, holding her with one arm, while roughly unfastening his jeans.
Chloe panted, her eyes wide, watching his beautiful dark face, taut with lust while he freed himself. She wanted, needed, was beyond thinking about it anymore. The intensity of the attraction between them was mind-numbing. Then he was pushing the hot, thick hardness of himself into her hand.
She couldn’t close her hand around it. Her breath hitched in her throat and she dropped her head forward against his chest. There was no way.
“You can take me, lass.” He cradled her jaw with his palm and forced her face back up for more urgent, heated kisses. He closed his hand over hers, moving it along his thick erection. She whimpered, wishing her jeans would just melt away so she could take him inside her.
“Do you need me, Chloe?” he demanded.
“I’d say she does, but I doona think ’tis either the time or the place,” a dry voice cut through the night briskly.
Dageus stiffened against her with a savage oath.
Chloe made a sound that was half-startlement, half-sob. No, no, no! she wanted to scream. I can’t stop now! Never in her life had she wanted so desperately. She wished that whoever had spoken would simply disappear. She didn’t want to come back to reality, didn’t want to think about the consequences of what she was about to do. Didn’t want to return to the myriad questions that she would have to face: about Dageus, about her whereabouts, about herself.