He pulled his leggings down and hastily pried his leather boots from his feet, tossing them across the room with no care.
He was magnificent, a study in a warrior’s form. Beautiful. Scarred and beautiful.
Realization was stark and strong as it struck her that she was willing to forgive his scars and even considered them beautiful. A mark of who he was. What made him the person he was. Aye, they made him beautiful, and yet she was deeply shamed by the mark on her face. She’d never viewed it as a badge of honor, proof of her survival and the ability to overcome devastating odds. But she was willing to grant those attributes to Bowen, denying herself the same accord.
They both bore scars. They were both survivors. These were marks to be borne with heads held high. Could she ever accept that and stop hiding behind her shame and humiliation? It was a nice thought, but the deepest scars were those unseen, the ones on her heart and her soul and her mind. And those were the most difficult to overcome.
“I’m going to take your clothing piece by piece so that I may enjoy seeing each part of you bared before me,” he said in a husky, passion-laced voice. “And then I’m going to love you until dawn’s rays reach through the window and signal our departure.”
Her pulse leapt to life and she arched restlessly, impatient to feel his hands on her body, coaxing it to life.
Never had she known pleasure at a man’s hand until now. Until Bowen.
He settled on the edge of the bed and began working at the lacings on her dress. With patience he’d not displayed while undressing himself, he worked at disrobing her, removing her clothes piece by piece, his gaze soaking in her body as it was bared.
“You are a sight to behold, lass,” Bowen breathed as he divested her of the last remaining piece.
She lay naked on the bed, vulnerable and open to his look, his touch. Her nipples were achingly erect, anticipating his mouth and hands. And her most feminine flesh pulsed as she remembered his mouth and tongue stroking over sensitive points.
Never could she have imagined the act of coupling as being a give-and-take, an act of mutual pleasure on the part of the man and the woman. With Bowen it wasn’t just him taking, her giving and being left with naught.
He gave all he received and often more. He was patient and exacting, ensuring that he gave her as much pleasure as she gave him.
For that reason, she wanted this night to be special. One that he’d long remember. Relying on her instincts—she’d never done more than lie and endure Ian’s brutality—she levered herself up and smoothed her hands over Bowen’s broad chest.
She kissed him, taking the lead, exhibiting a new boldness that was completely foreign to her. He groaned and melted into her touch, tilting precariously until she placed both hands on his chest to prevent him from coming down on top of her.
She maneuvered up to her knees so she would have position over him and then fused her mouth to his, hotly and as demanding as he’d been, and she bore him down to the bed.
He landed with a slight bounce, his eyes widening and darkening in the same breath. She kissed him deeply, taking her cue from the way he’d kissed her the night before.
Then she straddled him, taking him between her knees. His erection strained upward, resting against the sensitive skin of her belly, and she tentatively touched him, circling his girth with her fingers.
He flinched and she yanked her hands away, fearful that she’d hurt him in some way.
“God no, lass, touch me. Don’t take your hands away,” he groaned. “ ’Tis heaven, your fingers around me.”
Relieved that he’d liked her boldness, she gently took him in her grasp again, exploring his length and the fascinating mix of steel and velvety softness.
He sighed and arched in her grasp. His entire body was taut, and she marveled at the idea that she could bring him such pleasure with something as simple as a few caresses.
Reveling in her newfound role as temptress, she allowed her hands free rein, gliding over the dips and curves of his rock-hard body. She explored every inch of his flesh, delighting in the power she had to make him shudder and moan.
She leaned down and pressed her mouth to the flat of his belly. She smiled when his muscles bunched and coiled and his hands curled into tight fists at his sides. He’d made no move to stop her sensual assault. He lay back, his jaw tight and his eyes half-lidded as he tracked her every movement.
Then she lifted her head and hesitated, unsure of how to voice the question that plagued her.
He put his fingers to her hair, gently pushing the tresses behind her ears as he stroked downward.
“What is it, lass? You have a look of worry in your eyes, and ’tis the last thing I want you thinking on when you pleasure me so with your lips and hands.”
She took a deep breath, summoning her courage. “Do you remember last night when you put your mouth …” She blushed to the roots of her hair even thinking of verbalizing her thoughts.
“Where, lass?” he asked gently. “Do you mean when I kissed you betwixt your legs and put my tongue to your womanly parts?”
She nodded shyly. “Aye.”
“Did you enjoy it when I kissed you there?”
She nodded again. “Aye, I did. I wondered …”
“Say what’s on your mind, love. You have nothing to fear with me. There’s no need to be shy, no matter how adorable you are when you’re so hesitant. ’Tis the truth when you gift me with that shy smile I want nothing more than to press you to the bed and sink into you over and over.”
Her face went warm with pleasure at his heated words. It was obvious he meant every one of them and they weren’t pretty words meant to woo or distract her.
“I thought if ’twas so pleasurable for me to have your mouth … there … that perhaps you would find pleasure if I were to use my mouth … here,” she whispered as her hands found his length once more.
He went absolutely still. His jaw was clenched and his eyes blazed with quiet intensity. His fingers curled and uncurled, gripping the sheets and pulling them tight.
Then he lifted his hands and cupped her breasts before gliding upward to feather over her face.
“I cannot imagine anything sweeter than your mouth around me, lass. But I do not want you to do such for me, only to please me. Just your hands upon me brings me greater pleasure than I ever dreamed.”
She leaned forward again until their mouths were but a breath apart. Their gazes connected, soulful and wanting. She kissed him, savoring each second they were in contact.