Scottish Brides by Christina Dodd Read Free Book Online

But—“What do you mean, ‘our kind of loving’?”
    Bold as you please, Hadden placed his palm over the warmth between her legs. “The kind without affection of kindness or love.”
    She grabbed for that hand. “It was never like that.”
    â€œYou used me.”
    A just accusation, and she wanted to think of some clever answer. But how could she think when he ignored her attempts to break his grip and instead lightly and rhythmically pressed his fingers against her. His touch initiated a longing low in her belly, sweeping all other sentiment aside. “This won’t solve anything,” she said weakly.
    â€œIt will solve everything.”
    â€œHow like a man to be so simple.”
    â€œHow like a woman to complicate a simple situation.” In a lightning-swift move, he slid his other hand up under her skirt.
    â€œPlease, will you—”
    â€œI will,” he pledged, crowding her even more. “I am.”
    She let go of his one hand and lunged for the other as it made its leisurely way up her leg, which was encased in pantalettes and stockings. The loose hand now moved to circle her breast. She grabbed for that. He nipped at her lips, then swept them with his tongue. She caught his ear between the pinchers of her fingers and pulled his head away. The hand beneath the skirt skimmed over the sensitive skin at the top of her thighs.
    He swarmed over her, stinging her senses with unsubstantial nibbles and soothing kisses. As she took action on one front, he moved to another. She was always one step behind. She’d never confronted such resourceful tactics before, and she objected with silly squeaks of dismay. ”Don’t! Blast you. No! Not there! Not—”
    Opening the slit in her drawers, he lightly touched her sensitive feminine bud, then abruptly, without finesse, buried his fingers inside her.
    Her eyes opened wide. She flattened her spine against the wall. Lust—ah, it had to be lust—swept her away, tumbling her along like a pebble in a spring flood.
    She’d been in a rage of disappointment and embarrassment for so long, she hadn’t consciously thought about her body or his body or how they’d mingled so magnificently for one night two months ago. Yet her erotic dreams had come frequently, bringing her to lonely completion, and they must have kept her body in readiness, for his fingers slid in dampness.
    Dampness. Just because the sight of him had excited her, and the scent of him fed her perceptions. But if her body was weak, her mind was not.
    â€œI can’t respond. Too many disturbing memories stand between us.” After she spoke, it occurred to her he could have laughed. After all, she was obviously responding, regardless of any distress in her mind.
    But he didn’t laugh. Instead, he stroked her slowly, heating her more. “We have all kinds of memories between us The days we worked together. The evenings spent playing chess and laughing. The night . . . darling, do you remember the night?”
    His voice sounded smooth, warm, sincere, and intent on her and her only. With that voice alone, he could seduce her, and she flexed her thighs to shut him out.
    That didn’t work. Instead, the resultant pressure heightened her response.
    And he noticed, for he was smiling. That warm, audacious, masculine smile that raised her ire and melted her bones.
    â€œFor a woman who not so long ago was a novice, you do this very well.” He might have been petting a cat, taking pleasure in her sensual stretching.
    â€œI don’t respond on purpose.” She hacked at his left arm where it lay on her legs, but he replied by wrapping his free arm around her and nuzzling below her ear. She jumped when his breath raised the little hairs, and jumped again when his tongue licked the sensitive skin, “Unfair,” she snapped.
    He didn’t draw back, but only paused. “Why unfair?”
    â€œBecause