Enraptured (37 page)

Coll's chest rose and fell in hard, fast breaths. Red burned along the wide ridges of his cheekbones. Still he did not move.

Violet began to pull the pins from her hair so that the long strands uncoiled and slithered down over her shoulders. “That I give myself to you freely and you cannot say, ‘This is mine.' ”

A low growl issued from Coll's throat, and he moved almost faster than she could see. His hands sank into her waist and jerked her to him. His mouth fastened on hers. Heat radiated from him, encompassing her as his arms went around her, lifting her up and into him. His mouth was bruising and desperate, and he did not break the kiss even as he stepped forward.

Hooking his heel around the leg of her chair, Coll sent it tumbling out of his way. He bent her back over the table, reaching down to sweep the books aside. Violet heard the thuds as the books, then his kicked-off shoes, hit the floor, but he filled her vision and she could see nothing but him as he laid her flat upon the table and covered her with his huge body.

He pulled her arms up over her head, his hands anchoring her wrists. His weight pinned her to the hard wood, almost taking away her breath, but Violet received his weight eagerly. He stared down into her face, his eyes shining with an unholy fire, his breath rasping in the utter silence of the room. “You
are
mine.”

He kissed her mouth, her face, her neck, his hands releasing her arms to travel over her body. Violet made no move to lower her arms. Indeed, she felt so boneless and melting beneath the onslaught of his passion that she was not sure she
could
move. He yanked apart the sides of her chemise, the ribbons pulling through the aglets and ripping when they caught. Her breasts spilled forth, and he took the trembling flesh in his hands. His mouth joined his supple fingers on her breasts, and a primitive sound rumbled in his chest.

Coll shoved his hand up under her skirts, finding the heat that burned at her core. Impatiently he stripped away the flimsy cotton barrier of her pantalets and moved between her legs, his fingers fumbling at the buttons of his breeches.

Then he was thrusting deep inside her, so hard and huge and hungered-for that Violet let out a helpless cry of pleasure. Her arms clung to him, fingers digging into his back. She wrapped her legs around him as he pounded into her, days of repressed need surging too strongly for delicacy or
restraint. He took her in a wild rush, and when he exploded within her, a groan torn from his throat, Violet shuddered under her own release, pleasure rippling out through her in a great wave.

Coll collapsed upon her. His skin was damp, his chest rising and falling like a bellows. She could feel the tremors running beneath his skin, like those of a hard-run horse. A primal satisfaction swelled in her at these remnants of the cataclysm that had taken him, sparking arousal in her even after the furious burst of pleasure she'd just experienced.

Until this moment, Violet thought, she had not realized how essential Coll was to her, how he filled her, and how empty she had been without him. She loved him. It was all she could do not to let the words spill out of her.

“Holy hell.” Coll rolled onto his back, his hands going up to push across his face and into his hair. “Ah, Violet . . . I'm sorry. So sorry. I dinna mean—I wouldna hurt you for the world.”

Violet turned on her side, propping herself up on her elbow to see his face. His hands were pressed against his skull, and the satisfaction that had just exploded within him mingled discordantly with misery. Regret and shame glittered in his eyes, and the sight of it pierced her heart.

“Coll . . . no, don't feel that way.”

“How else should I feel? I come in here raving about protecting you, and then I—I fall on you like a savage. I force you. Take you without a thought to whether I hurt you. I should be taken out and whipped.”

“Och, Coll.” She rolled out the Scots intonation and reached up to caress his cheek. “Dinna fash yourself.”

Rising onto her knees, she straddled him. His eyes widened,
lips parting in surprise. Violet leaned over him and her hair spilled down like a curtain on either side of his face.

“You didn't hurt me. You didn't force me.” She bent down and tenderly kissed his lips. “My sweet, kind,
good
man. You deserve a much better woman than I.” She smoothed her thumbs across his cheekbones. “But I won't let her have you.” She bent to brush her lips across the ridges she had just caressed. “You did not make me do anything. Did I struggle? Did I protest?”

“You hadn't the time. You haven't the strength.”

“I knew I wasn't in any danger from you. If I had said no, you would have stopped, even though it cost you.”

“I heard you cry out, and I dinna stop.”

Violet sat up, leaning back on her heels. “I cried out because it felt so good, Coll.”

His hips were snug between her legs, and Violet felt him stir beneath her. She smiled provocatively, settling into him. “I wanted you as much as you wanted me.”

“Impossible,” he murmured, a smile beginning in his eyes.

“It's true.” Her hands went to the ties of Coll's shirt, unfastening them, and she spread the sides apart. “I will not hear any talk of whipping.” She peeled his shirt back and down off his arms, then bent to press her lips to the center of his chest. “I would not want any cut to mar this lovely skin.”

“Violet . . .” His eyes were lambent, his face soft. He let his hands fall back onto the table above his head, his entire body relaxing.

“It
is
true that you had your way with me.” Violet reached down, grabbing her dress, still hanging about her hips, and tore it off over her head, followed by her chemise
and petticoats. “And now . . .” She slid her hands up his arms and gripped his crossed wrists as if to hold him prisoner. “I intend to have my way with you.”

She heard the quick, little intake of his breath. “Do you now?”

“Indeed.” Violet glided her hands down his arms, bending to press her mouth to the tender skin inside his elbows, trailing her lips along his flesh. Her hair flowed over his face and onto his chest, and she felt him turn his head to catch her hair between his cheek and arm, rubbing against it like a cat.

Laying feathery kisses over his brow, his eyes, his cheeks and chin, she avoided his lips though he turned toward her, searching. “No,” she breathed into his ear, and took the lobe between her teeth to worry it. “I will kiss you when and where I choose. It's my turn now.”

She felt the heat flare in his skin. With the tip of her tongue she traced the whorls of his ear, and the rasp of his breath in his throat aroused her. She kissed the side of his neck, loving the leap of pulse beneath her lips, then moved to the other side, working her way up to his ear.

Violet slid her hands up his arms, so that her own arms lay aligned with his. Her lips hovered above his as she gazed down into his eyes. “You see, I am going to fall upon you like a savage now.” Again she felt his flesh turn to flame under hers, and she smiled and kissed him.

In a long, delicious kiss she savored the taste of him, the feel of his lips and tongue on hers, the heat that poured from him. It was so delicious that when she pulled back from him, she tilted her head the other way and kissed him again.

“I shall force you,” she whispered as she nuzzled into his
neck. “I shall take you without a thought to whether I hurt you.”

He chuffed out a little laugh. “I think you've passed that point.”

Violet raised up to gaze down in his face. “Do you want me to stop your torment? Release you from my retaliation?”

“Nae.” Passion etched his features. “I want to feel your revenge in full measure.”

“Then I”—she kissed the point of his chin—“shall oblige.”

Violet moved down him, caressing his naked chest with her hands and body and mouth, stopping to lay a soft, moist kiss on his navel. Coll groaned, reaching for her breasts.

“None of that.” She caught his wrists and pressed a kiss to each one before pinning them to the table beside him. “Just for that, I think, I must pay special attention here.” Her mouth lingered over the shallow well of his navel, then she worked her way across the soft flesh of his stomach, taking her time with it until she wrested another groan from him.

Violet slipped her hands beneath his back and down under his breeches. He jerked at her touch, his hands breaking free of her light hold.

Stroking her hair, he grabbed a handful of the silky mass and pressed it against his lips. Releasing the locks, he linked his hands behind his head, his gaze hot and slumberous, and smiled at her. “No doubt you shall add that transgression to my punishment.”

“I shall.” Her answering grin was wicked.

She stripped his breeches from his legs. Tossing them onto the floor, she cast a slow, appreciative eye over him. “You're a long, lovely sight of a man, Coll Munro.”

Curling her hand under his knee, she moved exploringly up his leg and on to the tender skin of his inner thigh. He made a low, muffled noise, and she glanced up at his face as she traced a teasing pattern over his skin. His heavy lids drooped over his eyes, the fire in them enough to burn her. His face was flushed and slack with hunger; his lips, lusciously reddened from their kisses, were parted as he labored for breath. He was the very image of a man in the throes of desire, and the sight of him made Violet's own hunger pulse within her. She wanted him, ached for him deep inside her—so much so that she could not bear to wait, but still she did, for she yearned even more to build their fever to the highest pitch.

Violet prowled up the table on all fours, seeing the fire leap in his eyes as he watched her. She bent to kiss the point of his shoulder, then sent her thumbnail sliding down his arm. “Turn onto your side.”

“What?” He looked at her distractedly, his eyes vague with lust. “Why?”

“I want to see the rest of you.”

He swallowed and let out a shuddering breath. “Are you trying to kill me, Violet?”

She smiled. “No. I do not want that.” She stroked her hand over his chest. “But you see . . .” She ran a finger around his nipple, keeping her gaze locked on his as she toyed with him. “You are mine.” Violet drifted lightly down his chest. “And I want to look at all of you.”

He said nothing, just rolled onto his side. Violet let out a long sigh of appreciation. “You are a beautiful man. I've missed looking at you.”

She caressed the breadth of his back, tracing the smooth
lines of muscles and running her thumb down the knobby ridge of his spine. Lying down beside him, she began to kiss his back, her hand gliding up and down his side. She slid down, her hand going to the outcropping of his pelvic bone. She curved her palm over the thick muscles of his buttocks, delighting in the way they bunched beneath her touch.

Leaning on her elbow, she laid her lips against his sharp hip bone. Her hair cascaded over him as she kissed her way along the side of his hip and on to his thigh. Coll had a death grip on the edge of the table, his knuckles white. Violet's hand crept between his legs from behind, cupping him, and he jerked, his breath ragged.

“Enough,” he growled, rolling back and pulling her to him. “I have to be inside you. Now.”

Violet straddled him. His hands went to her hips, guiding her down onto him. She sank, taking him into her fully, and began to move. She took her pleasure slowly, greedily, gliding up and down, her eyes on his face. He looked like a man caught in torment or ecstasy. Perhaps it was both. His fingertips dug into the fleshy mounds of her buttocks, silently urging her on. He turned, pulling her beneath him, and drove into her, hard and fast and desperate. He cried out as passion took him, and Violet clung, convulsing with him.

They lay tangled together, awash in pleasure and too wrung out to move. Violet rested on his chest, her long, loose mane of hair spread out over them both. Coll's hand moved slowly, lightly over her, sifting through the silky strands, fingertips grazing her skin.

“I dinna lock the door,” he said after a moment. “What if Mrs. Ferguson was to come in?”

Violet giggled. “She'd see a sight she wouldn't soon forget.”

Coll's laugh rumbled in his chest. “Do you think they're clustered outside the door, listening?”

“I wouldn't be surprised. No doubt half the glen heard you storm in.”

“Why did you not tell me, Violet?” She lifted her head to look at Coll, shocked by the thread of pain in his voice. It was in his eyes as well, despite the deep satisfaction. “Do I have so little place in your thoughts?”

“No! Oh, Coll, no.” Violet cupped his face in her hands and laid gentle kisses all across him. “You have a very large place in my thoughts. Indeed, you occupy far too many of them for comfort. I did not tell you because I—” She sighed. “I was angry with you. I missed you. I wanted you. And it made me furious. I hated feeling so bereft. Powerless.”

“Powerless? Don't be daft.” Coll took her hand and pressed it to his lips. “You ruled my life the whole time I was apart from you; I could do nothing but think about you. Ache for you.”

“Do you think I was any better off? That I did not lie in my bed missing you every night?”

“Did you?” A distinctly smug smile lit his face.

“Yes. You needn't get conceited about it, though.” She drilled her finger into his side, but he only laughed and caught her hand, kissing it again.

“Then you were punishing me?” Oddly, the idea did not seem to displease him.

“I suppose I was.” She looked abashed. “I didn't think so; I just . . . did not want you to have to rescue me. I hated the
thought of being another of the many people you feel you must take care of.”

“I like to take care of you.”

“I don't like needing you.” Violet sat up, turning away from him, and pulled up her knees, wrapping her arms around them.