Ian slid his fingers between her legs, swirling the moisture he found there. “Love me?” “I do. I love you, Ian.” He withdrew his fingers, sparkling wet, and licked one clean. “The best thing I’ve ever tasted.” “Better than single-malt whiskey from the Mackenzie distillery?” “I’d rather drink you than whiskey.” “And you a Scotsman? You must be in love.” “Stop.” Beth clamped her lips shut, and they trembled. Ian lowered his head and licked between her legs. He savored that, eyes closed, then began to work on her studiously. The train moved back and forth in a steady rhythm, but the room seemed
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