The Campbell Trilogy Read online

  Chapter 22

  Caitrina’s pulse raced with a sudden burst of panic. He was going to leave her. Desperation rose up inside her. She needed to do something to stop him.

  “Jamie!”

  He stopped before the door but did not turn around, his back stiff with resolve.

  Feeling suddenly helpless, Caitrina twisted her hands in her skirts before she caught herself. She wasn’t helpless. She hadn’t survived the past few months to let everything fall apart now. She wouldn’t let it come to this. She didn’t want to lose Jamie any more than she wanted to lose her brothers. Surely they could find some common ground?

  “Please,” she said. “Don’t go. Not like this.”

  Slowly he turned around to face her. “I’m tired of fighting with you, Caitrina. Leave it be, before we both say something we wish we hadn’t.”

  She walked toward him, coming to a stop only when she stood right before him—close enough to feel the heat blasting from him like a firestorm waiting to envelop her in his sensual hold. Her body crackled with awareness as it always did when she stood this close to him, craving the balm of his touch. She wanted to run her hands all over his broad chest, to feel the warm velvet of his skin over the hard, chiseled muscle.

  He was imprinted on her mind and body, and every instinct clamored to reclaim the intimacy, to seek refuge in the deep connection that could not be denied.

  “I don’t want to argue with you either.” I want you to hold me. I want you to tell me everything is going to be all right. She leaned closer to him, drowning her senses in his sultry masculine scent. Lifting up on her toes, she slid her arms around his neck. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”

  He stood stiffly before her, but she could feel his body react to her touch. Passion, restraint, and smoldering anger sizzled between them.

  “It doesn’t?”

  She shook her head. “I love you, and if you love me—”

  “I do, God damn it,” he growled. “If only you knew how much.”

  Every muscle in his powerful body tensed with restraint, and she could tell that he was holding himself by a very thin thread. His nostrils flared when her mouth moved to inches below his. She hated when he was like this: the cold, ruthless warrior. The man who didn’t need anyone.

  She wanted him to need her as desperately as she needed him.

  She wanted to slide her mouth along the hard flex of his stubbled jaw until it softened with desire. To drag her hand over the rigid bands of muscle on his stomach until she reached the thick column of his manhood and make him groan with need of her. Instead, she smoothed her hand over the soft wool of his breacan feile at his shoulder, noticing how the muted blues and grays of the plaid complemented his eyes. Her gaze was drawn once again to the Campbell chieftain pin he used to secure it—the boar’s head a sharp reminder of all that stood between them.

  Why did it have to be so complicated?

  Maybe it didn’t. Maybe in his arms everything would become clear—he would see that nothing should come between them. Maybe if he knew how much she loved him …

  Sometimes words weren’t enough.

  “Then show me,” she whispered. “Please.”

  She melted against him, her breasts crushed to his chest, and he groaned. His mouth sank over hers, and passion exploded between them as hot and swift as lightning. It had been too long. There was a desperate, raw urgency to their movements, as if they were both fighting to hold on to something that was in danger of slipping away.

  She returned his kiss with equal fervor, opening to take him deep into her mouth. The warm, delicious taste of him drenched her with heat—and hunger. The anguish and anger of a few moments ago slid away as the hard pull of desire drove everything else from her mind.

  His hand slid down her back and gently cupped her bottom, lifting her hard against him as he sank deeper and deeper in her mouth. Heat rushed between her legs as she felt the thick steely column wedged against her.

  Her legs grew weak, and she clutched his shoulders, sensing the passion straining under her fingertips.

  His kiss was wild as his hands possessed her. He cupped her breast, her nipple hardening against the warm pressure of his palm. His tongue plied hers, hard and demanding. She met him stroke for stroke, holding nothing back.

  Her breathing came in uneven gasps as her need spiraled out of control. He moaned into her mouth with each hungry thrust of her tongue.

  Lifting her leg around his waist, he nudged her more firmly against his erection. God, he felt so good. So hard and full. Heat pooled between her legs. She was throbbing where they touched. The pressure was almost too much to take. She wanted to rub up and down over him until the clawing need subsided.

  His mouth slid down her neck, mindful of her bandage, singeing a path of sensation in its heated wake. The wetness of his lips, the warmth of his breath, the flick of his tongue, made her skin prickle and sent a hard shiver running through her. Every nerve ending was set on edge, so that every stroke, every touch, seemed more intense.

  And when his tongue slid beneath the edge of her sark, circling the turgid peak of her nipple with moist heat, she thought she might fall apart.

  Her head fell back in abandon as he took her nipple more fully in his mouth and sucked while his hand lovingly squeezed her breast. She cried out as a white hot needle of desire shot through her, and she collapsed against him, utterly boneless.

  Her legs were swept up under her as he lifted her in his arms, carrying her toward the bed. Clasping her hands behind his neck, she laid her cheek against his plaid as she tried to catch her breath.

  Carefully he set her down, and she sank into the pillowy feather mattress. Leaning over, he looked deep into her eyes—his own dark and hazy with unspent passion. “Are you sure about this?” he asked.

  How could he ask such a thing? She held his face in her hands and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth, lingering at the rich, dark taste of him. “I never want you to doubt how much I love you. I don’t want anything to come between us.”

  His lips curved in a smile that reached his eyes. “It won’t, my love.”

  Happiness burst over her in a shimmering wave at hearing exactly what she’d wanted to: agreement. I knew he would reconsider.

  With nothing left between them, he quickly removed his own clothing and then hers. When they were both naked, she didn’t let him stop to look as he wanted to, but pulled him down on top of her.

  Automatically, he tried to roll to the side, but she stopped him. “No. I want to feel you. All of you.” Latent fears had no place in their bed.

  He took her chin and dropped a tender kiss on her lips, then his eyes searched her face intently. “You’re sure?”

  In answer, she slid her hands over the wide span of his chest, gripped his powerful shoulders, and pulled him down on top of her—skin to skin. The feel of his weight pressing into her was incredible, the pressure exquisite. He was so heavy and hot, her skin flamed where they touched. They melded together in a pool of liquid fire.

  He kissed her with a deep groan that tugged in her chest. It was a sound of raw pleasure and deep emotion that called to her in the most primitive way.

  His mouth found hers again in a long, languid kiss that seemed to reach down to her toes. His lips were soft and coaxing as his tongue probed the deep recesses of her mouth and throat.

  Their bodies slid against each other, the friction rousing her passion to a maelstrom. Her body dampened, deeply aware of his thick, hard erection hot and throbbing against her belly.

  Unable to hold back, she clutched his back, his shoulders, the hard flanks of his buttocks, wanting him closer. Wanting him inside her.

  Jamie wanted nothing more than to slide deep inside her and relieve their restlessness, but he didn’t want to rush. He wanted to savor every moment of their joining.

  Whatever qualms he’d had were appeased by her words of understanding. Their love was what was important; nothing else mattered. Her trust warmed him, a