by Vonnie Davis
“God, ye are so beautiful when ye come.” He stood and scooped her into his arms, carrying her to the bed while she waited for the tremors in her core to stop.
He used tenderness when spreading her limp body on the sheets and somehow, in the process, divested her of her bra. A blur of black lace and straps flew across the room. After placing kisses on her forehead, neck, and then her navel, he shucked out of his sweatpants and reached for a foil packet. “Ye are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and from this moment on, I will have eyes only fer thee.”
The snap of latex pulled her gaze from his eyes to his erection. Impressive didn’t quite cover it—and neither did the condom. Now that she’d climaxed, she wanted the fullness of him inside her. She opened her arms to him and the bed dipped as he settled between her legs.
He slipped off her glasses and then framed her head in his hands. “Do ye have any idea what it does to me when ye scream me name in climax?”
“Did I?” She only vaguely remembered.
“Aye, me love, ye did.” His lips covered hers and her musky taste was on his lips and tongue. Kisses rained down on her neck and chest while his hand cupped her breast. “So, so beautiful.” He gently pinched her nipple between his thumb and index finger, and then soothed the painful point with his tongue. Desire coiled low in her abdomen. Surely her body wasn’t preparing for another climax. When his mouth closed over her nipple and sucked, colored shooting stars streaked across her mental sky.
“I want … I need you inside me.”
“Not as badly as I need to be there. I’m determined to love ye in many ways today.” His fingers trailed over her body and his gaze followed, almost as if memorizing every inch of her. “Yer skin is so soft, like human velvet. A man could die happy touching ye.” He kissed her again, gently this time, as if he’d delivered his heart to her on a whispered breath. “I love ye. I will always love ye.”
“I love you too.” There was no doubt in her mind. Not anymore. She slipped her legs over his hips and lifted her pelvis to rub against his hardness.
He held the engorged head against her opening and pushed slightly with his hips. “Baby, ye are so tight. Relax, luv.” He withdrew and rubbed his erection around her button, whispering words in Gaelic to calm her. Between phrases and praises she didn’t understand, he dipped into her, pressing a little farther each time. Finally, rocking his hips back and forth, he seated his girth in her channel and she shuddered at her body’s glorious acceptance of him. “Am I hurting ye?”
“No. I love how you fill me.”
“Bloody hell. Ye are so tight and wet and hot.” He stroked slowly, a thrust with every few words he forced from between his gritted teeth. His gaze bore into hers, first brown and then glowing golden, and she sensed she was mating with both halves of his soul.
“Show me.” Her hips rose to meet his. “Show me how much you love me.”
As if her plea snapped something within him, his grasp on her tightened and he drove himself into her like a piston. He turned nearly feral, his strength overpowering hers and his muscles growing beneath her palms. “Mine,” he roared. One large hand swept across her skin as if branding her with his touch.
The room spun and she dug her fingernails into his back to stay grounded on the bed, which was silly, with this large man on top of her. Yet it seemed the power of him drew her essence from her body and submerged it beneath his skin, within the heart of the man she loved. Tears formed and fell with the beauty of their mating. He’d been right. Their coming together was more than the joining of their bodies. It was a melding of their hearts and souls.
He slowed and then buried his face against her neck. “I want this to last. I’ve never felt anything so good. It’s as if I’ve pulled ye inside me and can feel ye embrace all that I am. The good, the bad, and the bear.” He shuddered a long sigh. “Yet, I’m the one inside ye.”
She gazed at him through a veil of tears. “I love you.”
He raised himself onto his forearms and entwined his fingers with hers, placing them on either side of her head. “I more than love ye. I need ye for me next breath.” He inclined his head and caught a falling tear with his tongue. “Am I hurting ye?”
She shook her head. “No. It … this … is so different than anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s beautiful.”
He kept his hands against hers and moved his hips in and out and around, touching her magical spots both inside and out. “Tell me, beloved. Tell me ye are mine.”
“I’m yours … I’m yours … I’m yours.”
The roar of her name exploded from his lips when he climaxed, his muscles jerking against her body. Her one coherent thought as she shuddered with another orgasm was that she’d done this to him. She—Paisley Munro, the bookworm—had driven this macho man so wild with passion he’d exploded like a rushing tide. Her arms pulled him closer and she kissed his sweat-dampened brow while their rasping pants echoed off the bedroom walls.
She squeezed her pelvic muscles a couple of times and Creighton grunted.
“Ye seek to kill me.”
I’ll do one more just ’cause it feels so good to flex against him and induce a few aftershocks.
“I can see what kind of life I’ll have with ye. ’Tis a fortunate man I am.”
Once their breathing returned to normal, Creighton went to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. When he returned to the bed, he lay at eye level with her piercing. He touched the gem. “Can ye exchange this fer other dangling things on yer ring?”
“Yes, if the bevel at the top is big enough to accept the ring. I only wear the lapis on days I need courage. Research shows it has the power to see through any mask or deception.”
His gaze rose to lock on hers. “And ye thought I sought to deceive ye?”
She shrugged and stroked her fingers through his dark hair. “You wiped out part of my memory. What would you call that?”
He shifted to her side, his elbow in the mattress and his head propped in his upturned hand. “At the time, many things had troubled ye. It seemed you were overwhelmed by it all. First, the lack of sleep from helping deliver the foals. Then yer worthless ex-fiancé putting pressure on ye to return to the States. Ronan telling our clan’s tale of how we changed from bears to men.”
“You took that memory too?”
“Aye, and I should have known ye were strong enough to handle it.” He planted a hard kiss on her abdomen and inched along her side until they were face to face. “I didna give ye enough credit. Ye are a fierce woman. Must be the Scot in ye.” His eyebrows rose and the corners of his lips quirked.
“I want that memory back. I want to hear Ronan tell the tale again.”
He nodded then angled his head to kiss the make-her-shudder spot on her neck. “Aye, love. Ye shall have it. So much happened that afternoon and evening. After we’d made love, ye seemed to unravel in front of me eyes. I feared fer ye and after ye fainted, I did what I could to ease yer concerns.”
His words replayed in her head. What did he mean “after we’d made love”? Physical sensations that hadn’t made sense before came to mind. The tenderness in her vagina. The soreness in her thigh muscles. Hell, that bite mark on her shoulder. Her hand slapped against his muscled chest. “Is today the first time we made love? Or did you erase my recollection of our first time having sex?” She sat up and glared at him. “I want the truth. All of it.”
A long sigh escaped his chest as he sat and stared at her, his dark eyes bearing a sadness. “Ye were so guilt-ridden afterward.” He pushed his hair from his face. “Bloody hell, ye even called yerself a slut for cheating on Alex. I couldna bear seeing ye in pain like that.”
“So you took it on yourself to edit my memories?”
His stubborn jaw firmed. “Nay! I took it on meself to protect the woman I love. Just as I would give me verra life to protect ye.” He entwined his fingers in hers and rubbed the pad of his thumb over her finger. “Ye were falling apart, beloved. Between seeing me shi
ft and our lovemaking and the appearance of the ghosts, ye were having a bit of a meltdown and I panicked. Ye were tired from the trip. Worried about yer grandmother.” One of his shoulders lifted. “I’m not proud of what I did, nor was I eager to do it. I wanted ye to remember our first time. Of how we made each other feel.”
Although his rationale made sense, it did little to ease her irritation. She wanted to be mad at him, dammit. He’d messed with her mind. He’d taken something precious from her.
His brown-eyed gaze pinned her, the golden flecks glowing. “I’m sorry. At the time I thought I was doing what was best.”
She slipped her hand away from his. “But you were wrong.”
He glanced away, his eyes downcast. “Aye, I was wrong, fer in the end I fear I hurt ye more.” The words were uttered so softly she barely heard them.
Her anger melted with that realization. When he hurts, I hurt. Was that how he felt watching her fall apart after they’d made love? Was he feeling her pain just as she was sensing his now?
She wrapped her palms around his broad face and tugged it to hers so they were nose to nose. “Ye won’t ever do that again, laddie. Will ye?” Her Scottish burr was a bit on the heavy side, but based on the sudden twinkle in his eyes, he gleaned her meaning.
He pushed her back on the bed and straddled her body. “I’m thinking, number one, yer a sweet, forgiving woman and number two, yer temper is sexy.”
She raised her hips and ground her mound against his growing erection. “And I’m thinking ye think too much. I’m also thinking ye promised me several climaxes.”
“Och, ’tis a greedy soul me lady has. Well, ye shall have that … and more.” He rolled onto his back, taking her with him. His hands skimmed over her body. “Sweet heavens, sexiness and fierceness all in the same package.” He smacked her bottom. “To say nothing of this tempting arse and these beautiful breasts.” His thumbs and fingers rubbed her nipples, plucking and pulling them into hardened points. His gaze focused on her. Moisture leaked from her as her body prepared to accept him again. He cupped her head and pulled her to him. “Lucky me.”
* * *
An hour or more later, Creighton stroked Paisley’s back as she snuggled against him, her soft and sated body draped over his torso. The scent in the room was a heady blend of her cherry-blossom fragrance and the muskiness of their lovemaking, a sensual mingling he hoped to enjoy the rest of his life.
“I have to shower and get dressed. I want to question Duncan before my meeting with the elders.”
She murmured something against his chest and he smiled.
Maybe three times had been too much for her. “I love ye.”
She nodded and grunted.
“Did I play ye out too much to talk?”
She grabbed his cock and squeezed.
He laughed. “What a minx ye are. Do ye have me poem ready?”
A groan of frustration clawed from her throat. “Roses are red, children kick, I love a man whose cock is thick.”
Creighton blinked twice, mentally repeating her ditty before laughter sprang from his chest. “Dear God, yer more like your grandmother than I imagined.” He kissed her hair before sliding out from under his sexy poet and walking to the shower.
Hot water sluiced over Creighton’s tired muscles. Between last night’s fight with Duncan and today’s lovemaking with Paisley, he was bone weary. Need food. Honey. Berries. His bear snorted once, rolled over and went back to sleep. Too bad Creighton didn’t have time for a nap. He turned his mind to the meeting and everything he wanted to discuss with the prominent members of his clan.
Cool air slithered over him when the shower door opened. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled.
“I came to wash your back.” Paisley waved her fingers in a beckoning motion. “Give me the soap and close your eyes. This is going to feel good.”
He braced his hands on the tile wall while hers made slow, soapy circles over his shoulder muscles. A sigh rumbled from his chest. So good. Ask her to rub harder. Makes my claws curl. “Harder, luv.” Her hands pushed and kneaded. When they worked their way to his waist, tingles sprinted up and down his spine. Behind him, in his peripheral vision, she dropped to her knees and began soaping his arse. His sleeping cock jumped to attention. His bear all but purred. She kissed one ass cheek and he grinned. Aye, the woman loved him to death.
She bit his arse and his bear yelped.
“Bloody hell?”
Her fingers eased the sting. “Next time Gram talks about biting your ass, I can tell her I already have.”
He spun and glowered. “Me arse is not a topic for conversation between ye and yer oversexed grandmother.”
She glanced at him through lowered eyelashes, water from the showerhead plastering her blonde hair to her scalp. “I’m sorry.”
He’d have believed her too, if those luscious lips weren’t curving into a smile while her soapy fingers toyed with his balls.
When her little pink tongue waved at his cock, it rose to wave in return. Her mouth stretched open and slowly took him in. Sweet mother of God …
Chapter Twenty
Paisley refilled her gram’s teacup. “So, I’ve fallen in love with a shape-shifter. What do you think?” For the last half hour, she’d shared all she’d experienced since their arrival in Scotland. Gram’s face had gone from questioning to slack-jawed shocked to amused to contemplative. In her typical inquisitive style, she’d tossed out many questions as Paisley told her story.
“This all makes perfect sense.” Gram sipped her tea and nodded. “Now I understand the brothers’ auras and the connection to Mother Earth I see in them. How forthcoming has your Creighton been with all this information? Do you think he’s told you everything?”
“Most of it, yes. We talked a lot earlier … off and on.” The heat of a blush spread across her cheeks as she remembered all the delicious things he’d done to her body, all the novel sensations he’d created and satisfied.
Gram chuckled and placed her cup in the saucer. “I knew when you two finally came together, it would be phenomenal.”
“I’m not having this discussion with you.” Her sex life was too personal to share.
“Oh, sweet pea, you don’t have to say a word. The glow in your aura says it all.” She pursed her purple lips that matched her purple sweater. “It pleases me, the stand Creighton took on domestic violence. I wonder how the young woman is doing today.”
A knock sounded at their door and Paisley hurried to open it. “Fiona, come in. We were just talking about Kenzie. How is she?”
Fiona carried in two large, white boxes, one tied with a pink ribbon and the other with yellow and blue. “Physically, she’ll be all right. The bruises and broken jaw her feckin’ husband gave her will heal, but she’s devastated over the loss of her bairn.” She set the boxes on the desk. “Bryce is with her now. I made him promise to keep his visit proper. Ye ken how he feels about her.”
“Yes, it was evident he cares a great deal.” Paisley eyed the boxes but hesitated to ask.
Gram stood and shuffled to the desk. “What’re these?”
“They’re boxes Creighton put together for each of ye. Effie, the one with the pink ribbon is yers. Paisley, me son said the yellow ribbon is for yer hair and the blue for yer eyes.”
“Oh, isn’t that the sweetest thing?” Gram’s hand flew to her heart. “I love a sentimental man. My Morris was sentimental too. God bless his heavy-hu—”
Paisley cleared her throat and Gram winced.
“God bless him.” She tugged off the pink ribbon. “I wonder what Creighton gave us. I just love gifts.”
Tissue paper rattled. “Our dance outfits for tonight. You know he mentioned earlier he would see to our attire.” She held a pleated skirt to her waist, her face gleaming with glee. “Look, it’s the Matheson tartan, navy and forest green. There’s a matching sash and a white turtleneck.” She rummaged through the box and gasped. “Oh, that thoughtful man. However did he find these?�
�� She held up pelican slippers in a matching Matheson plaid and giggled like an adolescent. “If you don’t marry him, sweet pea, by damn I will.” She toed off her pink slippers and stepped into her new ones.
“I’m glad ye like the baffies, Effie. He had Una make them especially for ye. She’s our clan’s weaver and an expert seamstress. There should be a small jeweler’s bag in yer box too.”
Effie rustled through the gift paper. “Here it is.” She yanked the drawstring open and spilled a silver pin onto her palm. “Oh look, it’s a thistle, the Scottish flower. The workmanship is gorgeous.”
Fiona slipped the plaid sash over one of Gram’s shoulders. “Typically, we place a broach here to secure the plaid.”
Gram preened. “How lovely. I’ll fit right in with everyone else at the cèilidh.”
Paisley struggled not to laugh. Gram never fit in. She dazzled in her own unique style.
“Styles of clothing worn to cèilidh have changed in the last decade or so. Many still wear the traditional garb, but some come in jeans and modern dress. Even so, everyone puts on the mantle of Scottish pride.”
Paisley untied the twisted yellow and blue ribbons. Creighton really was a thoughtful man, sentimental, romantic. She removed the lid. He’d given her a pleated tartan skirt and sash too. There was also a pale-blue knit top, edged in delicate pearls at the low neckline. Her dance footwear was navy ballet slippers made of the softest leather.
“Did you get a broach too?” Gram was pinning hers to the sweater she wore.
“I got something. I don’t know what yet.” Creighton had slipped a rolled note into the ties of her jeweler’s bag. She unwound the paper and read: In early cultures, it was thought pearls were born when a single raindrop fell from the heavens and became the heart of the oyster. For me, ye have become the pearl, the beat of me heart. The sapphires and emeralds signify me tartan and how I will always surround ye with love. Creigh
He was so different from Alex. There was an openness about Creighton, even though he had to keep his bear persona a secret from so many. However, when it came to his feelings, he shared what was in his mind and heart.