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never had a woman lie with me who didn’t at least have some measure of wanting but instead only plotted retribution against another man.”
    “He isn’t a man; he’s a monster.” Leanna looked up at the handsome Scot who covered her with his naked, powerful body. “And I feel the wanting,” she murmured truthfully, half lowering her lashes, “if that means I like it when you touch me. I am just not used to it yet. Please do not turn away from me.”
    “That’s hardly likely.” His laugh was low and a little harsh. “I am glad you wish it too. It makes our mutual pleasure even more unholy since I planned on seducing you to make him squirm with the knowledge that I had you first.”
    “We are of like mind, then,” she said faintly, very aware of how his fingers still touched her nipple, lightly stroking now, the sensation escalating beyond pleasant to arousing.
    “Almost,” he agreed enigmatically.
    She would have questioned that equivocation, except he moved his hand from her breast to her stomach, sliding it lower to slip between her thighs. His long fingers sought, found, and then penetrated her female entrance.
    “You are damp,” he said, smiling, his mouth lifting, “but are you certain you are not too tender from our earlier encounter?”
    The feel of him probing inside her was distracting, and she found his invasion wasn’t in the least uncomfortable. She also liked the fact that he actually cared whether he hurt her. “I will welcome you, my lord,” she declared in husky assurance.
    “If you are sure . . .”
    In a flash of time, he shifted, covering her and suddenly ready, his body poised to possess her. She closed her eyes as he began to enter her, opening her thighs wide in invitation, letting his intimate foray consume her senses. His erection felt large, incredibly hard and slick.
    And wonderful—it was pure carnal sensation to lie there beneath the laird and spread her legs for him, allowing him the most intimate knowledge possible of her body.
    It was easier this time, she realized with surprise when he sank deep, her vaginal passage expanding to accept the penetration, a sigh of pleasure leaving her lips despite her inner vow to not be so vocal in her enjoyment this time. She had been raised a lady, and it was a little embarrassing to recall the sounds she had made earlier.
    But she found she couldn’t help it. A small whimper escaped her throat as he withdrew and pushed back in, his heavy-lidded gaze holding hers, a sensual smile on those well-shaped lips. Leaning forward, he whispered in her ear, “You feel every inch of me, don’t you, my sweet hostage? And I feel all of you, those soft walls milking my cock as you try to keep me inside you, your womb trembling as I push in deep. You learn quickly, beautiful Leanna.”
    She liked hearing her name spoken in his soft brogue almost as much as the glorious feeling of his thrusts, the sensation of his lips touching her ear, his hard chest above her. She rubbed her hands over the powerful muscles of his back and closed her eyes. Like the first time, she could feel his escalating need in the change of his rhythm, his hips flexing faster, the increased speed bringing her a building sensation of tension mixed with pleasure. As from a distance, she could hear her own small gasps, her hips lifting to accept each surge until she was clutching at his shoulders, mindless with desperate desire.
    When the sublime pinnacle came and she fell, her body rippling with tiny convulsions of pleasure, she gave a small scream, uncaring any longer about anything as mundane as her dignity. With a low curse, he joined her, impaling her as far as possible, going rigid as he ejaculated, coating her passage with the warm liquid spurt of his seed. The pulsing of his shaft matched the beating of her heart, primal and wild, and she marveled at it as he filled her, lying there in limp, blissful afterglow.
    To her surprise, he didn’t pull out, but once his breathing