‘I’ll take things slowly. I don’t want to hurt you again.’ His voice was deep and low and husky.
Layla stroked her finger along the contour of his bottom lip. ‘You didn’t hurt me the first time and I don’t want you to go slowly. I need you inside me.’ She placed her hands on his buttocks and pushed him down towards her.
He drew in a sharp breath and entered her slickly, visibly fighting for control, his features contorted in a mixture of agony and ecstasy. He began to move with gentle thrusts, each one getting deeper and deeper until he was up to the hilt.
He gave a guttural groan and increased his pace and Layla was with him all the way, swept up in the primal rhythm that made her flesh sing. The need spiralled through every part of her body, building to a crescendo.
She hovered at the edge, needing more, straining to reach the final tipping point but not quite able to get there. She whimpered and moved her body against his, desperately seeking more friction. But then his hand slipped down between their rocking bodies to touch her, sending her over the edge into the throes of a powerful orgasm, intensified by his continued thrusting. She shattered into a thousand pieces, her body racked by tingling waves of sensation that went on and on and on, finally leaving her spent and limbless and breathless in his arms.
His release followed on the tail of hers and she drew vicarious pleasure from holding him through each shuddering thrust, riding out the storm with him as he tensed at the point of no return and then finally let go.
Logan lifted his head and, leaning his weight on his elbows, pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. His expression was bathed in lines of relaxation, his gaze warm and heart-stoppingly tender.
‘No regrets?’ His tone was low as a bass chord and it sent a tingly shiver cascading down her spine.
‘None from me,’ Layla said, tracing his upper lip with her finger. ‘You?’
He took her finger into his mouth and sucked on it, his gaze glinting. He released her finger and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his mouth twisting into a rueful line. ‘No. Not one. It was—you were—wonderful.’
Layla stroked her hand along his jaw from below his ear to the base of his chin. ‘Thank you for making it so good for me. I feel so at ease with you. I can’t explain why other than you seem to read my body like it’s an extension of your own. How do you do that?’
He gave a lopsided smile and leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose. ‘It doesn’t happen often but sometimes it just works from the start with some partners. The chemistry is right.’ He rolled away to dispose of the condom and came back to lie beside her with his elbow bent, his head propped against his hand. His other hand began a lazy journey from her breast to her thigh and back again. Slow, sensual, setting her flesh alight all over again.
Layla rolled towards him, her mouth meeting his in a scorching kiss that sent a hot wave of need shooting through her body. Her legs entwined with his, the roughness of his sending another shiver coursing down her spine. He took a handful of her hair and bunched it against her scalp, his kiss deepening, his tongue playing, teasing, tangling with hers.
He dragged his mouth away and gazed down at her with a rueful expression. ‘I’d better stop before I can’t stop. You need to get used to this gradually otherwise you could get sore.’
His tender consideration towards her was so touching it made her breath catch. She stroked his jaw again, raising her head to brush his lips with hers. ‘You’ve created a bit of an addiction in me. I don’t want to wait. I want you again…but is it too soon for you?’
He gave a low deep laugh and rolled her beneath him, his eyes dark and gleaming with lust. ‘What do you think?’ And then his mouth came down on hers and she stopped thinking altogether.
LOGAN HAD MOSTLY travelled abroad during the month of November, so he could escape the all too often grey and dismal progression of the Highlands’ final month of autumn into winter. But spending the time with Layla at Bellbrae had turned the normally cold and bleak time into something else entirely. The shorter days and longer nights were no longer an inconvenience but an excellent excuse to relax over a drink in front of a roaring fire. Or to spend long hours in bed, making love, then snuggling up in a cocoon of cosy warmth. And with winter and plenty of snowbound days heading their way, instead of feeling trapped and contained, he felt…free.
More open, more relaxed. More human and less of an emotionless workhorse machine.
The days at Bellbrae belonged to Layla and him, no one else. Well, apart from Flossie but the old dog spent most of the time snoozing by the fire, only stirring for meals and comfort breaks. Aunt Elsie had extended her holiday and, apart from the occasional ground staff going about their business on the estate, Logan and Layla were entirely, blissfully alone.
They each juggled their work commitments but he was increasingly worried about monopolising her time. Her generous and giving nature often had her putting her needs aside for others’. Hadn’t her closing her Edinburgh office when his grandfather had gone into his final decline been proof of that? He knew he should be encouraging her to find another office off site but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was enjoying their time together too much. He had even put another delay on his visit to Tuscany to check the progress on his project. It was out of character for him but he had competent people working for him and knew they would call him instantly if there was anything that only he could fix.
Logan left Layla sleeping while he rose early to let Flossie out downstairs. He slipped on tracksuit bottoms and slip-on shoes in case the old dog went further into the garden and got disoriented in the darkness. It had happened before and it had taken him half an hour to find her—not ideal in only boxers or less and bare feet.
The sun wasn’t up yet and the frost was as thick as a carpet on the ground, the air so cold it burned his face. An owl hooted from a nearby tree and then Logan heard the swish of its wings as the bird flew off into the misty darkness. The distinctive call of a vixen looking for a mate would once have made Flossie’s ears prick and her tail rise, but the old dog barely seemed to notice. She squatted on a frosty patch of ground and sighed with relief and then came plodding back to where Logan was standing, her feathery tail wagging back and forth.
‘Good girl.’ He bent down and ruffled her ears. ‘Back to bed for you, hey?’
‘Sounds good to me,’ Layla’s voice sounded from behind him. ‘Gosh, it’s freezing, isn’t it?’
Logan turned, saw her framed in the doorway and something in his chest slipped. Funny, but he didn’t feel cold at all. He felt warm. Hot. Hotter than hot—for her. She was dressed in his bathrobe, which was far too big for her. It swamped her petite frame and made her look like a child who had been playing with a dress-up box.
‘I was about to wake you up with a cup of tea,’ he said with a smile.
She rubbed her crossed-over hands up and down her arms and shivered but a smile played about her mouth. And her eyes contained a light that made his lower body sit up and take notice. ‘Stop spoiling me. I’ll be hell to live with if you keep treating me like a princess.’
‘I’ll take the risk.’ He came over to her and leaned down to drop a kiss to the end of her upturned nose and then led her back inside to the warmth of the castle kitchen.
Thing was, she wasn’t hell to live with. She was heaven. He had only lived with one other lover—his late fiancée—and it had definitely not been anything like this. His time with Layla worked so seamlessly, so easily, so naturally. He didn’t have to second-guess or play games or have games played on him. Layla was a complex person but not a difficult one. He could relax around her, be more open and share things he hadn’t shared with anyone before.
There was a growing