Grasping her hand in his, he slid his palm up to grip her arm, and then let it go, slapping her hand. “That is the first part. Now, we turn to the side and tap our ankles to each other, first one and then the other.”
Fiona stared down at their bare feet. They were going to touch bare feet, bare ankles. Flesh to flesh. Even if just a tap. She followed his lead, a shiver of awareness coursing through her at the shocking connection, however brief.
“Now your right hand. We’ll do the same as we did with the left.” Their hands clasped and warmth traveled from where he touched her to lodge right in the very center of her body. “And then we embrace, but no’ for long, just a quick embrace.” He leaned close, his hand on her back, pressing her chest to his, and she lost all breath.
Her nipples puckered as her unconfined breasts, covered in barely a whisper of fabric, brushed the heat of his skin. Goodness…
Gone too soon, he pulled back.
“Think ye can do it again, but quickly?” he said with a waggle of his brows.
Fiona grinned at his delight. “Aye,” she said, very much indeed wanting to do this again and surprised at how sensual she found the simple act of a childish handshake. Then again, Brogan could make anything sensual. He was so large, so strong, so…him.
He grasped her left hand, then they turned and tapped ankles before embracing once more, and then clasping their right hands.
“Ye picked up on it rather quickly,” he said.
She nodded, wanting to lean into his body, to press her lips to his skin. To make up a secret handshake of their own.
The smile faded from Brogan’s face as he watched her, replaced by a look of desire, mirroring exactly how she felt from head to toe.
“Dinna look at me like that,” he said. “It makes me think of kissing ye, and I canna think of kissing ye. Not when we both promised this would be a fake marriage.”
Fiona nodded. “Completely fake.” Except they were here alone in this room, no imminent danger, both half naked.
A frisson of heat caressed her skin, and she found herself staring at his mouth. Not caring about what was fake and what was not. All she knew was that she very much wanted to kiss him right then and there.
She took a step forward, and Brogan met her halfway. They reached for each other, her hands sliding up over his chest to his shoulders, the heat of his skin singeing her fingertips so much she expected to see smoke. Large hands spanned her waist, and then their bodies were colliding at the same time as their mouths.
Fiona kissed him with all she had, sliding her tongue against his and tasting wine and desire.
Zounds, but he was massive.
Her nipples tingled as she pressed them to his chest. Her toes touched the tip of his, and behind the sheet his arousal grew, pressing against her belly. Fiona moaned against him, and he kissed her deeper, a hand tangling in her hair. He walked her backward until her back hit the wall beside the small window, and he pressed her there, caging her in.
She liked the way that felt, his body surrounding her with heat, and desire thrumming through her veins. This was…delicious. Intoxicating. Brogan’s palm slid over her ribs to just beneath her breast, stopped, and she ached for him to touch her. Arching her back in silent invitation for him to go on, she muttered, “Please.”
Brogan groaned against her mouth, sending chills all over her body at that gruff sound filled with desire and passion.
His mouth slanted over hers again and again, and she felt possessed, claimed, and was all too willing to give in to him. The heat of his palm covered her breast and she gasped, her nipples hardening even more. A simple brush of his thumb over her nipple sent incredible heat and delicious wanting racing through her. She needed more. All of him…
Fiona clung to his body, wanting to be closer and not knowing just how to get there. She lifted her right leg, sliding her bare foot over his calf, and the way he pressed against her, his body tucking farther between her legs, made her shiver and moan at the intimate, heated touch.
“I want ye to touch me,” she said.
“We canna go further than this.” Brogan’s voice was tight, rough.
He was right…but… “I dinna want to stop.”
“We must,” he groaned, and then swept his arms around her back and beneath her legs. Lifting her into the air, he carried her to the bed where he laid her down, following her with his body. “We canna be man and wife,” he said.
She shook her head. “Nay, but we can… Can we…?” She didn’t know exactly what she was asking.
“I can give ye pleasure,” he murmured against her neck, his body covering hers and pinning her blissfully to the bed with his hard weight.
“I want to give ye pleasure too.”
“Ye have no idea how much this is killing me,” he said.
“I have a verra good idea.” Fiona laughed. “For I feel the same.”
Brogan pressed his lips to hers, his body rocking overtop of her, and she instinctively spread her thighs, her knees coming up on either side of him. God, the weight of him pressed to the apex of her thighs set her blood to boiling. She moaned against his mouth as he rotated his hips, grinding them into hers.
Pleasure coiled inside her, intense and full of fire. He held up his weight on one elbow, his other hand massaging her breast. With tender kisses, he made his way down her neck to her chest, his mouth on the fabric covering her nipple, teasing her skin with his teeth.
Fiona bucked at the sensual touch, and then he was sliding her shirt out of the way, up over her thighs. Air hit her exposed sex, and Brogan kissed his way from her belly to between her thighs.
He paused, staring up at her. “I’m going to taste ye.”
“This does no’ mean we’re wed, does it?”
“Nay,” he drawled.
Oh, sweet relief… And then he did taste her, with long, languid strokes of his tongue.
Fiona gripped the sheets, her back arched, mouth open, gasping with pleasure. This was…this was… He quickened the pace, his tongue circling a nub of flesh that seemed to be sending flames of rapture coursing through her.
“That’s it, lass,” he crooned against her heated flesh. “Moan for me.”
And oh, did she moan, crying out in pleasure as wave after delicious wave coursed through her. A strange and wicked sensation whipped through her that she’d never experienced before and left her breathless and full of questions. Was this normal? Was this something that happened whenever a man put his mouth on her? Would it happen to him if she were to put her mouth on him?
Fiona sat upright, Brogan still planted between her thighs.
“Lie back down,” she said, shoving at his shoulders, and he rolled over, obeying her command.