The realization that her hideous scar was exposed to his eyes immediately made her feel vulnerable. Her hand quickly went up to cover it.
“Nay, dinnae cover yerself. An exquisite sight, ye are.”
She shook her head. “The scar is everything but exquisite. ‘Tis ugly.”
“Nay. Ye’re beautiful exactly because of it,” he husked. “It shows how strong, bold and yet sensitive ye are.”
He stepped up to her again and gently removed her hand. He trailed a finger over the scar down to her breasts until he rubbed over her taut nipples. She shivered from the sheer pleasure of something so simple.
“Yer scar is a symbol of strength. And it should be worshipped, nae maligned.”
He suddenly backed away from her body, and for a moment, she panicked.
Where is he going?
She watched in awe as he shed his clothing much more quickly than he had taken off hers. He kicked off his boots and then ripped off his tunic until only his trews were left. Then he tossed the clothes across the room. She could not resist looking at him. She couldn’t have glanced away even if she wanted to. Jane was mesmerized by his rugged, work-honed body.
His chest was covered in scars. Most seemed to be years old, while others werebrand new, but they all traced paths across his skin. There wasn't a single spare piece of flesh that they didn't touch. His muscles tightened his chest and abdomen. This man had been honed in the fires of battle, but she knew it couldn't have come from combat alone.
Someone else had inflicted years of cruel pain on him as a boy before he became a man, leaving these scars as permanent reminders.
“Here,” he murmured as he walked to her until he hovered over her. “These are my scars, my symbol of strength and pride for defending my maither and siblings from my faither.”
Jane covered her mouth in shock, tears pooling in her eyes. “That is… horrible.”
“Of course, but they are also symbols of love that I carry for my family.” He smiled.
She reached her hands towards his chest but then pulled them back, gazing up at him.
He nodded. “Ye can touch them.”
“I can?”
“Aye, Jane, ye can.”
She reached out, and her slender hands settled on his chest. After another glance up at him, she gained courage, her hands surprisingly steady, running over the hard muscles of his chest. She stroked him, one hand resting on his heart, the other wandering around, tracing the scars across his body. Each time a groan erupted from his lips, she would repeat what she’d done, this time deliberately, until she started to move lower and lower down his abdomen.
He stopped her abruptly, suddenly shifted her in one smooth movement, bending his head over to kiss her scar. His kiss was exquisitely gentle, his tongue glancing over her skin and setting tiny, fiery flutters across her body. She tried to suck in a breath, but her lungs burned from the effort. Each effort felt tight.
His warm breath whispered over the chill bumps that dotted her flesh as his lips wandered.
Every lap made her moan.
He wrapped a hand around one lush hip. She startled and then smiled, letting her legs fall apart.
“Ye’re perfect,” he said, the word rasping in the quiet night. His hand slid down and curled around a plump thigh, drawingher closer. He kissed her again, his mouth moving up and down the line of her jaw, then back to her neck and the tender flesh beneath her ear. He paused for a moment, grazing his teeth over her pulse point, and sucked wetly.
“Oh!” She felt him smile against her neck, but he never removed his mouth. Instead, he trailed lower down her chest until he was precariously close to her breasts.
“Ye’re nae marred. Ye’re a work of art.”
She found herself arching into him. She was strung so tight that she feared she was going to burst with need. She screamed when his lips closed around one nipple, and he sucked hard. Her back arched, and her hands flew to grip his hair.
By the skies, this is a wondrous sensation.
He suckled, at first hard, then gentle and rhythmic, and then hard again. His tongue circled the sensitive flesh, and his teeth nipped over it lightly, coaxing the bud to an even harder point.
“Ye’re sweet, so sweet,” he said as he moved his mouth to her other breast. She sighed, though the sound came out more as a garbled cry than a breathy exclamation. She felt like melting to her bones in a meadow on a warm summer’s day. She felt spineless and boneless and could not garner a coherent thought for the life of her.