Emilie threw back her head, breaking their kiss to give him access to her throat. Archer bent further, kissing along her jaw and down the column of her neck.
His breath tickled her skin, causing goosebumps to erupt and her hands to clench in the fabric of his shirt.
“Eager thing, aren’t ye?” he growled, his lips moving against Emilie’s flesh as he spoke.
But Emilie could not reply. She was so caught up in the feeling of what was happening to her, of what was being done to her.
Her mind had fled in its entirety.
As far as Emilie was concerned, she had no mind. She was nothing more than the roiling, twisting ball of lust that had formed in the low hollows of her stomach.
She clenched her thighs together, suddenly desperate to feel some sort of friction as Archer’s hands roved up over her navel.
One of his large palms came up to cup her breast, squeezing and prodding it while he used his other to dip her chin back downand bring his lips to hers. Their kiss deepened, so hot and so fierce that it wrenched the breath from her lungs.
“Archer,” she breathed, moving her mouth against her husband’s as his hands explored every inch of her body.
He growled at the sound of her panting his name, and then, he moved.
Archer bent low, his strong arms coming up to cup behind Emilie’s thighs. He lifted her, wrapping her legs around him.
The act pushed up the fabric of her dress, bringing her delicate center to rest against a bulge beneath his kilt.
Emilie’s flesh burned. Everything that was happening was too much and not enough, all at the same time. She needed more, craved it like she craved air to breathe.
And yet, she was terrified to reach out and take it.
It turned out, however, that she did not have to. Not while Archer began to walk, holding Emilie with her legs wrapped around his middle.
She shifted against him as he moved, the delicious sensation of it having Emilie moving her hips, chasing the feeling that was welling up inside her.
“I need ye,” Archer growled against her mouth, pausing only to settle her down onto a wooden desk on the other side of the room.
He had perched her on the edge of it, allowing him to maintain his contact with her. He kissed her harder, panting into her mouth.
Emilie startled as Archer’s hands reached down, rubbing up her legs beneath the fabric of her skirt. His fingertips left small fires in their wake, tracing the path from her ankle to her knee. And then continuing.
When his fingers reached the apex of her thighs, Emilie stilled, stopping their kiss. Archer paused as well, the tips of his fingers rubbing tauntingly along the edge of her most private parts.
“Tell me ye want me,” he growled, his voice washing over her like liquid honey. “Tell me ye need me.”
Emilie gulped, but his words had reached a deeper level of desire that hadn’t yet been unleashed.
“I want ye,” Emilie panted, running her hands up and down her husband’s back. “I need ye.”
Archer growled, his fingers toying along the edges of her most private parts as he dropped to his knees in front of her.
Emilie’s hands left him, gripping the edges of the desk. Rustling filled the air as Archer lifted her skirts, hiking them up past her knees and then her thighs.
He didn’t stop until it was hiked all the way up to her waist. Emilie barely had time to process what was happening before Archer’s mouth descended on her skin.
He kissed along the delicate insides of her thighs, making Emilie feel so on fire, so filled with need, she felt she might crawl out of her flesh.
One of her hands came up, fisting in Archer’s hair. Her hips bucked of their own accord, chasing after something Emilie didn’t quite understand.
A low chuckle rumbled through her husband, and it tugged at something deep in her core. He began to move, his kisses dancing along her thighs, higher and higher until they reached right where his fingers had been stroking.
He used his hands to part her, and Emilie’s face flushed with heat. She had never been this exposed, had never imagined that it would be possible to revel in someone that close to her, how it might feel powerful and intoxicating.