5
" Her first instinct was to look away, to shield her wicked thoughts and feelings from his penetrating gaze. But if ever there was a time for truth between a man and a woman, this was that time.
She met his eyes steadily and didn't care whether he saw the abandon and bliss she felt. His face held a cross between the wonder of a boy on Christmas morn and the knowing look of a man who was exquisitely aware of what wicked things he was doing to her. He enslaved her with pleasure, and she had no defense.
Her cheeks heated, and her breath hitched, but she couldn't look away. He might stop, and she didn't think she could bear it if he did.
Instead, she moved. Just a little, so his finger would brush her sensitive tip. A jolt of longing shot through her body from her breast to her womb.
"Merciful God!" she breathed.
"Aye, lass, and 'tis a good thing He is," Rob said with a wicked grin, "for I am no' merciful in the slightest. "
― Connie Mason , Sins of the Highlander
6
" As I recall,” he said as his fingertip skimmed the tops of her breasts, “I enjoy the sounds a woman makes when I pleasure her.”
“Ye’d not enjoy these sounds.” She slapped his hand away. “And if ye take me, there’d be no pleasure.”
“As a maid, ye canna know that,” he said, lifting one of the long locks of her chestnut hair to his lips and inhaling her scent. “And I dinna think ye’ll scream, not in the way ye mean, in any case.”
“Ye’d have to tie me up and force yourself on me, because I’d fight ye, tooth and claw,” she said with assurance.
“Now there’s a thought,” he said. “I’ve heard some lassies enjoy being tied up.”
He could picture her in his mind, bound tight, her breasts bared, her legs splayed with her soft core wet and ready. She’d be helpless before him. He’d make her beg for release. He stood and walked to his horse to retrieve a length of rope.
“Shall we give it a try?”
“No!” she said, scrabbling away. “Please, no.”
“Dinna fret, Elspeth. I’ll no’ force ye,” he crooned softly, as if she were a frightened mare. "
― Connie Mason , Sins of the Highlander
8
" And what’s a healer’s touch like?” she asked, working quickly to push the needle through and tie off another knot, closing his wound with each stitch.
“Light as a feather. Like this.”
He moved his hand from her arm to her breast. His fingertips brushed the bared skin above her bodice in teasing strokes. She held herself still, beguiled by the sensation. She’d never have guessed her body would react so to a man. She should be afraid, she knew, but her only fear was that he’d stop.
His touch moved down, between the stiff boning of her bodice and the soft, thin chemise, circling her nipple slowly through the cloth of her undergarment.
Oh, how he made her ache. He tormented that needy skin with his nearness. She fought the urge to squirm into his touch. When he finally flicked a nail over it, a jolt of wickedness shot from her breast to her womb. "
― Connie Mason , Sins of the Highlander
9
" This will hurt ye more than it does me,” she said as she pulled the thread through his skin.
“Nay, lass, you’re but tickling me,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers. His thumb rubbed back and forth over her forearm.
“What are ye doing?” she demanded.
“Hmm?” He blinked, all innocence.
She looked pointedly down at his hand. His thumb stopped.
“I was just distracting myself a bit from the pain,” he said. “Ye’re fair soft.”
“Ye’re accustomed to scratchy wool. That’s just the silk ye feel.”
“No, I can imagine ye beneath your clothes,” he said. “I’m thinking your skin puts silk to shame. "
― Connie Mason , Sins of the Highlander
13
" Lust was no surprise. Present a man who'd not known a woman in a while with the sight of a naked one, and there was no power on earth that could restrain his cock from rising.
But the tenderness in his chest nearly knocked him down. He longed to hold her, to whisper endearments, to kiss away her fears and offer her the protection of his body as well as its need.
"Elspeth," he said reverently, as if her name were a prayer.
That broke the spell. She covered herself, one arm across her breasts, the other hand protectively splayed between her legs.
He continued to look at her, drinking in her exposed skin, all rosy and fresh. It would be like silk under his touch. His hands would know every inch of her.
She snatched up the remains of the velvet skirt and held it before her, but her neat calves and ankles were still bare to his gaze.
"How long have you been there?" she demanded.
"Long enough. "
― Connie Mason , Sins of the Highlander
