Tags:
Romance,
cats,
Scotland,
demons,
fate,
hot romance,
Gods and Goddesses,
Adventure Romance,
Myth,
Sexy Paranormal,
Scottish Romance Novel,
Love Action Fantasy,
Series Paranormal Romance
muscles she knew covered all of him.
“You’re sure?” Ian asked, his voice gravel.
The need and power in him almost overwhelmed her, but not so much that she couldn’t nod.
Fierce pleasure streaked across his face and he pulled her to her feet. He cupped her head and pressed his mouth to hers, stealing her breath and making her head spin.
Her lips parted beneath his and she moaned when she felt his tongue against her own. Lightning bolts of sensation shot through her. He was too skilled for someone who hadn’t kissed in nearly a century.
His big hands gripped her hips and plucked her off her feet. She wrapped her legs around his waist and gasped at the feel of his cock against her. One big hand gripped her arse, massaging.
“Gods, you feel so good. So damn good.” His mouth pressed hotly to her neck. He inhaled deeply, taking her scent into him as he walked.
He stepped into the small, dim bedroom and headed for the bed. Gently, he lowered her to the mattress, then rose to stand tall.
She sat up and reached for him, brushing her hand against his arm. He trembled, a whole-body shudder.
The enormity of how long he’d been without touch, without sex, sent a rush of warmth to her pussy and made her want to spoil him. To kiss every inch of him and make him feel her hands, her lips, her tongue on every part of him.
He loomed above her, tall and hard and dangerous except for the fact that he would never, ever hurt her.
Oh, he was dangerous to her sanity.
She pulled back and looked up at him. “Just no’ full sex. No’ yet.”
She was afraid she was falling for him already. She couldn’t do that and walk away easily tomorrow morning.
“Aye. Anything. Anything you’ll give me.” His eyes raced over her face, full of wonder and desire and joy and every good thing she’d forgotten could be directed her way.
“Take your sweater off,” she said.
He complied, ripping the wool over his head and tossing it on the floor. His arms dropped to his sides and her gaze traced over him, taking in the cut of his muscles and the veins that stood in sharp relief along his forearms.
He looked too perfect to be real, and the shadow at his jaw made her wonder what the scruff would feel like against her skin.
She reached for his belt, her fingers trembling at the contact with the cold metal buckle. She fumbled with it, wishing she were smoother. It finally came undone and she reached for his pants to draw down the zipper.
She looked up at him as she pulled, entranced by the heat in his eyes and the way his lips parted as he watched her.
The fabric parted, and with a push, dropped to the floor. Her gaze was dragged with it.
Oh.
He was beautiful. Thick and long and flushed, with lovely veins tracing delicate patterns along the sides. A pearl of fluid graced the tip, and her tongue itched to sweep it up. She wanted it. She wanted him. She wanted desperately to make this the best night he’d ever had.
She dragged her eyes up to meet his. “It’s been so long for you. What do you want?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ian swallowed hard at the sight of Fiona, looking up at him, her pretty face so close to his cock that she could reach out and take him inside her mouth without straining her neck.
Fuck. He wanted everything. He wanted her lips wrapped around his cock, the heat of her mouth and the softness of her tongue. He wanted an orgasm that didn’t come from his own hand. He wanted to touch her, to feel every inch of her body against his, sensory overload, as if he could banish all the lonely memories through touch alone. He wanted to bury his face in her pussy and lick her until she screamed.
But first he wanted to see her.
He pushed away the thoughts of stealing the book and said, “Take off your shirt.” His voice scratched its way out his throat. He clenched fists that ached to rip the shirt off her.
She rose up on her knees and pulled the shirt over her head. Her pants