“You are. You are the most perfect thing I’ve ever touched.” He pressed a kiss to the soft skin of her thigh. “You humble me with your body.” Unable to stop herself, she lifted herself to him, aching for his touch. “It is yours,” she whispered. “All of me. I am yours.” He growled at the words, turning to nip the inside of her knee before lifting her leg and settling it, shockingly, wonderfully, on his shoulder. “You have it wrong, love. It is not I who owns, but you.” He pressed a kiss to the curls that hid the heat of her. “Your lips taste like Scotland,” he whispered at the core of her. “But
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