Leather & Lark (The Ruinous Love Trilogy, #2) (90)
A deep inhalation fills Lachlan’s chest and he leans a little closer. “You know what I like most about you?”
I shake my head.
“You’re brave.” Lachlan squeezes my hand when I drop my gaze. “You’re afraid you’ll lose someone? You dive headfirst into a crazy plan to marry a broody asshat you hate just to save them. You’re afraid of my crazy boss? You give him drugged muffins and make him fall at your feet, wanting to be your friend. You’re afraid of the dark elevator? You sit in it for an hour so your dog won’t be alone.” Lachlan sweeps a lock of hair back from my shoulder with a faint smile. “You’re the bravest person I know, Lark. And I love that about you.”
I swallow a breath that catches in my throat.
He loves that about me? Does he love other things about me too? Maybe there are things I love about him. Like the way he puts the needs of others first. Or the way he looks at me when I laugh. I love his teasing smirk. His touch. His kiss. The way his body fits mine like it was made to. Maybe I love a lot of things about Lachlan Kane.
I look away, but he tightens his grip on my hand and I’m sure he can see the sudden shine in my eyes. “You’re wrong,” I whisper. Lachlan’s lips part on a sharp inhalation as though he’s about to protest when I say, “I don’t think I hated you. I think I might kinda like you, actually. Just a little bit.”
Surprise is a momentary burst of light in his eyes and then Lachlan’s teasing smile takes over. “Yeah, I kinda gathered as much this last little while. Not sure what gave me that impression. Might have been the remote control situation.” Lachlan draws me into his embrace. His heart drums beneath my ear and I sink into his warmth. “Bravery has nothing to do with not feeling fear, and everything to do with facing it. You know that better than anyone. We’ll figure it out together, yeah?”
I nod against his chest and Lachlan runs his hand up and down my back, a motion he probably doesn’t think much about. But I do. Soon it’s the only thing I think about. His fingers running down the ridges of my spine. The way they slow at the waistband of my leggings and then return up my back. An ache builds with every pass of his hand, a need that slowly coils deep in my core, a need for more than just a reassuring touch.
I pull away and meet Lachlan’s eyes. His hand stalls on my back. He looks right into me, the real me. There’s need and fear and desire and longing staring back at me. Maybe he does love more than just my bravery. I think that’s what I see when I drift closer, when our breath mingles, when he frames my face in his hands.
“My feckin’ catastrophe,” he says as his thumb coasts across my cheek. “You fucking destroyed me. And now I can’t imagine being anything but the man that I am with you.”
“Lachlan Kane,” I whisper. “You’d better kiss me and prove it.”
One last breath. One look. And then he presses his lips to mine.
It starts sweet. A gentle sweep of our lips. A sigh. A stroke of my fingers across the short stubble on his jaw. And then the kiss deepens. The need for more seeps into every caress of his tongue across mine. I press my lips harder to his. I break away just long enough to pull his shirt off and then I take more from every moment that passes. A suck on his lip becomes a nip. The graze of my fingertips becomes a long scratch of my nails down his chest. A sigh becomes a moan.
In a flash of movement, I’m on my back on the couch with Lachlan’s weight bearing down on me.
“You sore, duchess?” Lachlan says between kisses and bites to my neck. One of his hands trails down my body until it slides beneath the waistband of my leggings. I nod my head as he circles my clit with a light touch. “Good.” I let out a soft, incredulous laugh that turns to a gasp as he bites my nipple through my shirt. “Do you want me to stop?” he asks when he raises his lustful gaze to me.
“Fuck no,” I whisper. He dips a finger into my soaked pussy, pumping it in slow strokes.
“Then I’ll make it better.”
Lachlan pulls his touch away and reaches for the water glass, fishing a cylindrical ice cube from the liquid. With it gripped in his hand, he tugs my leggings down as I pull my shirt off. His smile is wicked as he centers himself between my legs and lets the cold drops hit my breasts. My breath hitches as the water slides across my skin. He brings the ice down to my nipple and circles it until it’s a firm peak, and then he soothes it with the heat of his mouth as he teases the other. It’s a wave of sensation. Cold then warm. Warm then cold. And all the while I’m increasingly desperate for more of him.
“Lachlan,” I breathe. I run my touch down the ink that covers his arm until I grip his bicep. “Please.”
He pulls away just enough to stare down at me, his eyes dark and serious. “Tell me who I am.”
A crease flickers between my brows as I try to work out what he means. “Lachlan Kane,” I say, smoothing my hand up the tense muscles in his arm. My reply doesn’t seem to satisfy him. “My husband.” The relief in his eyes is instantaneous. He nods once. I lay my hand to the side of his face. “You’re my husband.”
“And you’re my wife. Don’t forget it when I’m fucking you like a whore.” He holds my gaze as he moves down my body and slips the ice into his mouth. And then he descends between my legs. He keeps the ice beneath his tongue as he sucks on my clit, swirling his caress over the sensitive nerves. The mix of cold and warm has me squirming. Desperate. My breath comes in pants. Lachlan pulls the ice from between his lips and rolls it over my clit as he thrusts his tongue into my pussy. I shudder as I near release, then he switches, rolling the ice over my pussy, his tongue over my bud of nerves. When the sensation becomes overwhelming and I buck from the couch, he pushes my stomach down with a flat hand and holds me there. There’s no getting away. And I don’t want to. He drives up the pleasure until I’m ready to unravel.