His hands came from behind his head and dug into the sheets, but he still didn’t touch her. Every groan, every oath sent a pulse through her that ended up between her legs. And every one of her touches, her kisses, and even—once she dared to be bold—her licks and nibbles sent heat through her body until her heart was beating as fast as his, and her breath was caught in her throat.
She wrapped her hand around him and experimented with that velvet hardness.
“I dreamed of this,” Gowan said hoarsely.
Edie looked up. She was thinking that she could kiss him the way he kissed her. And he would like it.
“You did?”
She gripped him a bit tighter, and his hips arched into the air. “Bloody hell,” he gasped. “That feels so good.”
He had dreamed about her. Edie was starting to feel as if the mere sight of him was a sensual assault. She felt restless and greedy, as if her body was pulsing to a rhythm she barely understood.
“Even though I can’t touch you, you can touch yourself, Edie.” His voice was hypnotic.
Edie frowned at him. He was trying to turn the tables. Before he could open his mouth again, she bent her head, wrapped her lips around that part of him, and took back control.
A shout broke from his lips. She would have smiled, but she was too busy running her tongue over him. All the time her hands were moving over his legs, caressing his thighs. She discovered that she could make him roar, and his roars made her feel wet and empty and even more restless.
“You must stop,” he gasped a moment later, his voice strained with need. “Edie.”
She raised her head. She could feel that her lips were a little swollen so she pouted at him, watching his eyes grow even darker.
“I cannot do this anymore,” he said with great difficulty. Every muscle in his arms and chest was rigid.
She smiled at how beautiful he was, and then she crawled up and said, “I love knowing that I can reduce you to begging. Are you begging?”
“Yes. I have to touch you,” he said, not smiling, the words exploding from his mouth. “This is not the way it’s supposed to go. Please, Edie, please.”
She wanted his touch so much that her mind was fuzzy and she could no longer remember what she had demanded. Her hand was trailing over his stomach muscles, but maybe . . .
“Edie!”
She was starting to feel as if she’d drunk a whole bottle of champagne. She lowered her head and licked his nipple. “Mmm.”
“Please, Edie.” He was begging her, this man whom she loved more than anyone in the world.
Of course, she would always give him what he wanted. “As you wish,” she said, giving his nipple a little tiny bite, just because she remembered that he—
He flipped her over so fast that her hair swirled around her shoulders and came down in a cloud. “You’re so damned beautiful, Edie,” he muttered. One hand ran over her breasts, over her ripe nipple, down her flat belly and then dove between her legs. Edie opened her eyes and her mouth fell open.
When he ran a finger between her legs, they both felt how drenched she was, how swollen and tight.
He groaned. She didn’t say a word, because a shiver burned through her whole body at the mere touch of his fingers, rippled through her, and again. He moved his fingers and it came again, wave after wave until she was shaking all over. She cradled him with her knees and whimpered, asking without words for more, more of him, more of that.
“I meant to learn about what makes women come,” he whispered against her mouth. “Up there in the Highlands.”
Edie’s entire self was concentrated on what he was doing with his hand. She felt as if . . . She hid her face against his shoulder. It felt out of control, as if her face might contort, or she might make some . . . some squeal or do something . . .
“Edie!” Gowan’s hand stilled and after a second, she looked at him.
“Hmmm?”
“I went to a pub, the Devil’s Punchbowl.”
She looked at him. His face was so beautiful that she leaned up so that she could capture his mouth.
But Gowan was nothing if not stubborn. “I have to tell you this. I went to the pub to find a barmaid who could teach me about a woman’s body, about what makes a woman happy in bed.”
It took a moment, but that filtered in. And although Edie was not the type of person who ever shouted, she shouted now. “What?”
“A barmaid took me upstairs.”
Edie was off the bed in one second. “You didn’t!”
“I did.” Gowan didn’t look particularly apologetic. He rolled off the bed and stood up just in front of her. Edie was breathing fast, her fists clenched, trying to make sense of it.
“You were trying to solve the problem,” she said, her chest hurting with the truth, even as she understood: Gowan was a problem solver by nature.
He nodded, and then slid his arms around her. They stood together, naked, his cheek on her hair. “I couldn’t do it. I never meant to bed her, but I thought I would ask her about what she liked . . . maybe even ask her to—to demonstrate.”
An involuntary shiver of disgust went up and down Edie’s body, but she said nothing.
“I couldn’t,” he whispered, pulling her even more tightly against him. “After about a moment in that room, I realized that I didn’t give a damn what aroused her. I certainly didn’t want her to demonstrate anything. Before I could stop her, she pulled open her bodice.”
“What did you do?”
“I looked away.”
Edie felt as if she’d moved into a warm room after standing in an icy rain. Heat slid over her skin. “Was the young lady was surprised?”
“She decided that I was only attracted to men,” Gowan said, sounding rather pained. “She gave me a lecture about how there was nothing she could do for me. I offered her some money but she said she was too sorry for me to accept it.”
Edie slid her arms around his waist, and tried for a moment to control her laughter, but to no avail.
“What I’m saying is that I’m a dunce, Edie, but I’m your dunce. I still don’t know where I went wrong. But I’m begging you to give me another chance. You—” He stopped for a moment, and then continued. “You are the only one for me, Edie, and you always will be. I don’t want to think or hear about another woman’s pleasure, only yours. If you’ll allow me, I will spend my whole life trying to make you happy.”
It was amazing how fast tears could replace laughter. “Oh,” Edie whispered. “Oh, Gowan, I love you so much.”
His big hands slipped down her back. “Even though I’m an idiot?”
She pulled back just enough to look at him. “We’re both idiots,” she said firmly. “When you were angry—justly angry—because I deceived you, I crumpled. I need to have more backbone. I should have been honest with you from the beginning, but my impulse, my habit, is simply to smooth everything over. It was stupid.”
He cupped her face in his, and gave her a sweet, sweet kiss. “I have a sense of how tempestuous your father’s marriage is.”
“I don’t manage anger well,” Edie admitted, coming up on tiptoes to kiss him back. “I don’t think I ever will.”