““I think you liked traveling with me. Admit it.” “You’re awfully sure of yourself.” He grinned down at her. “It’s called confidence, lass, and I know when I’m right.” “Smug is more like it,” she muttered. “Are you going to let me go?” “Ask me nicely.” “I want you to—” He kissed her. Unable to stand another moment without knowing the taste of her mouth, he tipped her chin up and claimed her lips, seizing her in a kiss until the tension of her body melted away. She yielded, and then her fingers were on his broad shoulders, curling against them to hold him closer instead of pushing him away. Conall savored every second, every quiet breath, every heave of her chest. Then he tried to calculate how long it would take to unfasten her leathers.””
