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Excerpt from Her Kilted Mate:
Mattie took a breath, the raggedness of it reminding her that all was not well…although maybe things were getting a little better. She peeled off her clothes and toed off her shoes, aware of her mate’s gaze on her.
Once she finished disrobing, he sat up. “Turn around.” His voice sounded gruff. “Slowly.”
This wasn’t the first time he’d wanted to look her over, so she turned and let him look his fill, but when she saw his face again, she realized this time was different. It wasn’t lust she saw in his eyes. It was relief. “Colin?”
“Not a scratch. Thank the Gods.”
So he wasn’t as unaffected by the battle as he pretended to be. Why didn’t that surprise her? “I want a look too.” She pulled him to his feet and pushed his shirt up.
“You’re the one shoved me onto the bed.” He laughed.
“And then I changed my mind. That’s my prerogative.”
Colin yanked his shirt over his head while she went to work unbuttoning his pants. It didn’t take long for him to kick off his boots while she pulled his pants down his legs. Then he stood, naked, while she knelt before him. “That’s the perfect position, mate.”
She chuffed. “Turn.”
He obliged. She ran her hands over his skin, looking for the slightest wound, but found none. When he’d finally turned full round and they stood face to face, she knew he was completely whole. She let out a breath.
“Now let’s celebrate.” His voice sounded thick. “We were lucky.”
She hugged him. “Very lucky.” She tipped her head back to look up at him. “All right. Have your way with me.”
He swung her up into his arms and laid her on the bed then stood over her, gazing at her. This was the expression she was used to–heavy-lidded lust with just a hint of mischief. Colin was always up to something. “Spread your legs,” he said.
She parted them slowly, bending them at the knee while she propped up on her elbows to get a better look at him. He took her calves and spread her legs even wider.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “My beautiful, beautiful woman.”
Mattie knew she wasn’t beautiful, not in the conventional sense. She was too long, too strong, too flat-chested. But when her mate gazed at her like he was doing then, she felt like frickin’ Nefertiti, the most stunning woman of her time.