[2015] The Draig's Woman by Lisa Dawn Wadler

Author:Lisa Dawn Wadler [Wadler, Lisa Dawn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781682910849
Amazon: B0195ND072
Barnesnoble: B0195ND072
Publisher: Soul Mate Publishing
Published: 2015-12-23T07:00:00+00:00

Claire leaned forward, and her soft fingers skimmed his back. She untied his hair and spread it across his shoulders. Ian forced air into his lungs as her fingers moved again over his skin. The task was forgotten while gentle lips danced over his shoulder. His movement ceased as her mouth traveled to graze the back of his ear, and his breath came out in a whoosh as her hands wrapped about his chest.

Claire whispered, “You are still wearing your boot, Ian.”

“You are distracting me from my task.” Her laughter was a soft caress on his neck. As she continued her exploration, his head fell to the side. The moment her tongue touched his skin, he could handle no more. Ian grabbed the dagger from the table next to the bed and cut the rawhide string on his boots. Throwing the boot aside as he replaced the knife, Ian turned quickly to face her laughter.

Looking at the boot on the floor and then to him, she asked, “Did you really need to do that?”

Without an answer, Ian brought her face to his and nearly crushed her mouth. The kiss demanded acceptance, and he groaned as she gave it. Any dominance was replaced by his desire being met.

One hand held her head and buried in her hair as the other finished untying her gown. With the laces loosened, he abruptly broke the kiss and pushed back to stare at her.

A gasp broke from Claire as she saw his look. The weight of his stare brought a tremor that Ian did not fail to notice. He bent slightly to pull up the material gathered around her knees, and in one fluid motion, her dress and shift were gone.

With a silent prayer of thanks for the light of the candles within the chamber, Ian took a moment to enjoy what was exposed. He saw her blush as her gown left for the floor. Ian stroked her shoulders and moved his fingers down her arms and back up again. Her skin was soft as he touched his way down her chest, his fingers barely making contact with her breasts and then moved down to her small waist. She still wore it, that little scrap of fabric he saw that night at the inn. His fingers traced the line of skin above the fabric. “I have often wondered if this covered you beneath your gowns.”

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