by Jane Henry
“Lachlan!”
“Fiona!”
I let out a little whimper, just before his palm slams against the fullest part of my backside. Oh, hell does it hurt, but as soon as his firm palm connects with my skin, a flare of heated arousal licks at my core, and my heart thunders in my chest.
“Now,” he says in that stern, sexy voice of his. “Let’s make sure we know who’s in charge here.”
“Ah, yes,” I say helplessly, scissoring my feet as a second firm slap to the arse takes my breath away. “You are! I do know this, believe it or not, and never did quite—ow!”
“Mhm.”
“Never thought otherwise!” I pant.
“And yet you still think it smart to tease me, when being in your presence damn near dissolves my resolve?”
“It does?”
He smacks his palm harder and punctuates each word with searing, punishing swats.
“Every. Damn. Time.”
“I-I didn’t know that,” I say, which is the truth, and he pauses. When he rests his huge palm across my heated arse, I close my eyes against the rush of heady arousal that swallows me whole. He runs his palm over my cotton panties, and I realize he’s hard beneath me.
I’m torn between wanting to sing with joy and cry with despair. Why does he fight me so?
He’s muttering under his breath in guttural, broken Gaelic, words I haven’t heard in years, curses and pleas.
“What?” I whisper, still drowning in arousal and desire and wild emotion.
“I can tell how aroused that made you,” he says in a hoarse whisper. “And bloody hell, woman…” his voice trails off and he runs his palm over my bottom again. Quietly, wordlessly, ever so slightly, I part my legs.
His entire body freezes.
“Fiona.”
I close my eyes and open my mouth to speak, but I can’t. I’m skin to skin with the man that I love with my whole being. He flew here on a private jet to ensure my safety. Right this very minute, I can feel his erection beneath my belly, proving that I’m no nameless child to him but a woman.
His woman.
“We’re miles from home,” I finally say brokenly. “No one will ever know.”
I’d give him everything, fucking everything, and he knows it.
As if soothing his own needs, he strokes my arse again, rubbing out the sting of the spanking he just delivered. He groans, and lowers his fingers to my inner thighs.
“Part your legs,” he orders in a hoarse whisper. I’m dizzy and hot, but somehow manage to obey. I’m trembling when I open my legs.
He curses under his breath in Gaelic again. I feel his hot fingers on my inner thighs, and my core aches to be touched, to feel the blessed rush of release. To somehow be connected more intimately with him.
My breath comes to a stuttering halt when he strokes his finger between my legs. Such a light touch, it’s barely more than a whisper of a kiss, gliding along the tiny scrap of fabric that separates me from him. I’m panting, I want him so badly.
“Is this what you need, sweet girl?” he says in a voice I don’t recognize, hoarse with lust.
“Mmm,” I manage to squeak out. “Please, Lachlan.”
He’s circling against the fabric, putting the gentlest touch of pressure right there. I can’t breathe or speak or move. My bottom throbs from the spanking he gave me, my heart hammers in my chest, but my pulse is centered straight between my legs.
“And what would I find?” he asks in a throaty whisper. “If I were to move these knickers aside?”
I gasp when I feel him drag his fingertip along the edge of fabric.
“Are you wet, sweet girl? Are you eager for me to touch you?”
I open my mouth, but it’s hard to talk. My tongue’s too big for my mouth or something, because the only thing I can say is a garbled mess of nonsense. His deep, throaty chuckle makes me smile, and I manage a breathy, “Yes, fucking yes.”
“Christ,” he says, his voice at once soothing and heated. “As if I could ever say no when you ask me like that.”
Time freezes when he moves the little piece of fabric aside. Blood pounds in my ears, and I’m grabbing the blanket in front of me so hard my fingers ache, but then there’s nothing but a chasm of deep, perfect bliss, when he touches me.
Oh, sweet Jesus, it’s utterly divine. It’s like he’s reading my mind, stroking me just there, with just the right amount of pressure, as if he knows what I need him to do—oh, God.
“Yes,” I whisper, rocking my hips to welcome his touch. “Oh God. Ohhhh,” my voice is choked and my breathing hitched, with one more touch I’m going to fly headfirst into the abyss.
He removes his fingers for a moment, and my breath freezes when he teases his finger along the inside of my thigh. “So perfect,” he says as if in admiration. “Fiona. You’re so beautiful.”
I bask in his words, his nearness and my vulnerability, even though I’m crazy with need and craving his touch again. He bends, and I feel his lips brush my skin where the t-shirt’s fallen to the side. To my shock, I feel his tongue next, warm and sensual. He drags it along my lower back as if savoring the taste of me, just before his fingers return to where I ache for him.
With the first stroke, I fly apart. My head arches and my breathing’s choked and strained. Spasms of ecstasy rope through my body, and I swear every nerve ending from the tips of my toes to the ends of my hair alights. He knows just how to continue stroking me, just what I need to ride the bliss, and he gives it all to me until every morsel of pleasure’s extracted. I’m panting, still holding onto the bed, when he turns me around and cradles me in his arms.
I can’t believe this is him, that he’s here in the flesh. That he’s holding me to his chest, kissing me as if he’s paying homage, across my cheeks, to my nose, and finally, finally, to my mouth, where I long to taste him.
I sigh and lose myself to his kiss. For such a strong, stern man his lips are so soft, his touch so gentle. I’ve kissed boys before, but not many, and certainly none knew how to make it enjoyable. This is something else altogether.
This is a silent declaration that we don’t care what will happen. We’re meant to be together. This is a silent joining of our wills, our fears, and our hopes.
This is confirmation that Lachlan McCarthy belongs to me as much as I to him. We kiss until I can’t breathe, until I’m fully submerged in this connection, and the rapid beating of my heart slows.
When he pulls away, he smiles at me in that sexy way of his, a corner of his lips quirking while his eyes focus on mine with intensity so fierce, I can’t look away.
“You taste better than I imagined,” he whispers. He brushes a strand of hair out of my eyes, cups the back of my head, and kisses my forehead. I close my eyes against the rush of emotions, and to my utter horror, I feel hot tears splash my cheeks.
I try to turn away so he doesn’t see. It’s important to me that I appear strong and in control in front of him.
But with his hold on the back of my head, I can’t look away.
“Fiona, why are you turning away from me?”
I sniff and try to look away, but there’s no escaping.
“I don’t want you to see me cry again,” I whisper.
His hand travels to my jaw, and he lifts my face gently so I’m looking straight at him.
“Why?” he whispers back.
“I don’t want you to think I’m sad.”
He studies my face with stern concern for a moment. “Then why do you cry?”
A lump forms in my throat again. I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t. His eyes go to my parted lips, and with a groan, he brushes his lips to mine again. I taste my salty tears.
“Come here,” he whispers when he pulls away again, holding me to his chest. “I imagine it’s overwhelming, isn’t it? I spanked you. I made you climax.”
I nod against his chest.
And I’ve wanted you so long.
“I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I think
I was so relieved at finding you that I didn’t hold myself back like I should.”
“Oh, God, Lachlan,” I say, my tears drying up. I look back up at him and frown at him. “No. Don’t you bloody do that to me again.”
He blinks, then he scowls, caught halfway between stern and confused. “Do what?”
I lean closer, capture his face between my hands, and speak so earnestly my voice cracks. “Hide yourself from me,” I whisper. “Leave me. Turn away.” I swallow hard and press on, determined to speak the truth even as it splits me wide open. “You wouldn’t have taken a private jet here if I didn’t mean something to you.”
“Mean something to me?” he says in a hoarse whisper. “You’re bloody everything to me.”
And then we’re kissing again, and he’s lifting my t-shirt, and baring me to him. My body finds his, skin to skin, and he cups my arse in his big, strong hands, as he cradles me atop him before he rolls, positioning himself above me. My hands encircle his neck, and he holds himself on one knee beside me when he finally drags his lips from mine with reluctance.
“Bloody hell, Fiona,” he says. “I can’t seem to stop kissing you.”
I grin at him. “Fine with me.”
He gives me a teasing smack to the side of my leg. “Would you at least try?”
“Try to what? Not kiss you. No.”
“Bloody hell,” he groans. “Should’ve given you a proper spanking.”
My heart thunders again. I prop up against the pillows as he pushes himself out of bed and adjusts his hardened length with a tortured groan.
“Lachlan, I could… we could... you know, you’re awfully, um —”
“No.”
The look he gives me brooks no argument. I close my mouth and don’t push the issue.
Okay, then. Somehow it’s okay for him to give me pleasure, but his own will have to wait. Fine.
When I get my chance, I’ll make it epic.
The thought alone makes my cheeks flush, but he’s already pulling on clothes and checking his phone.
“No word from your guard yet,” he says tightly.
“It’s odd,” I say, sitting up in bed. “They were with me, no question, then somewhere between the harbor and the hotel, they were gone.”
He pauses in buttoning his trousers. “The harbor?”
“Aye,” I say. My stomach growls with hunger, and I eye the room service menu beside me curiously. I’ve never ordered anything like room service before. Hell, this is the first time I’ve even been in a hotel. “I went with Aisling and some…” I pause, certain that he’ll want to throttle someone if he knew we were with other guys. “…friends of hers.” I finally finish lamely.
He tugs his shirt on, and I swallow hard at his rippling muscles. I may be mentally much older, but my body’s still ripe with hormones and unadulterated lust.
“Friends of hers?” he asks, and a muscle in his jaw twitches. “Why the harbor?”
“Because we’re in Boston,” I say, as if that explains the situation.
“So?”
“So, people hang out by the beach.” I shrug. “Aisling hooked up with one guy and I… well, I spent a little time with another.”
He growls low in his chest and looks at his phone again. “No more.”
“No more what?”
“No more separation from you. No more hanging out with other men.” He scowls. “If any of them ever touched you, I’d have to kill them. Keenan wouldn’t be happy.”
I’d laugh, but he isn’t joking. He means every word.
I smile shyly, because it warms me through that he’s affirming what I’ve hoped for so long.
“Okay, then,” I say. “Are you going to make me go back?”
So soon, when I just barely got here.
He looks away from me as if mulling this over, then shakes his head. “No, lass,” he says. “We won’t run from them. We won’t hide. And it’s far safer if I can vet out who’s behind any threat to you while we’re on this soil. We do have alliances here in Boston, and we’ll see to it that we have the strength of support at our backs.”
I nod.
“What are your plans?”
“Well,” I begin. “First, I was planning on heading out with Aisling to the campus, to get the tour and get settled.” I don’t want to be here now, though.
Just saying the words makes an ache grow in my belly. I only came here to escape him, and that clearly didn’t work.
He nods. “Fair enough. Reach out to Aisling, see if she’s okay.”
My phone rings. Sheena.
“Have to get this,” I tell him. “It’s Sheena.”
He holds my gaze and gives me one firm nod.
“Hello?”
“Fiona, thank God,” Sheena breathes.
“I’m fine, Sheena. Don’t you worry about me.”
“Of course I worry about you! Don’t you tell me not to worry about you. I spent half the night up just pacing the floor, I was that worried, and when Keenan told me—just a minute.”
I hear Nolan’s voice, calm and steady, in the background behind her. She sighs, and returns to the phone. “I was just a little worried is all,” she says, and I can almost imagine her pretty eyes flashing at him. “Which is an older sister’s prerogative thank you very much.”
“Of course,” I tell her. “What on earth did Keenan tell you?”
“That your guard’s gone missing and Lachlan came to take over.” She exhales. “Thank God.”
Would she be saying that if she knew what he just did to me?
“Yes,” I say to her, my eyes meeting Lachlan’s across the room. “He came. Thank God. I’m fine.”
We talk a bit more then hang up. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed with the room service menu in hand.
“You hungry, lass?”
“Aye, but it’s awfully expensive.”
He rolls his eyes. “Now, did I ask you how much it cost, or did I ask you if you were hungry?”
I smile and nod. “Pancakes.”
“Hmm?”
“I’d like a large order of pancakes, please. I hear they’re amazing in America.”
“Excellent.” He picks up the phone and places an order, then calls Keenan. He steps out onto the balcony when my phone dings with a text.
Aisling: Is everything okay? Why didn’t you come back to the room?? Text me, girl. I am worried about you!!! I GOT A TEXT FROM YOUR BROTHER
I snort.
Everything’s fine. We’re okay.
Aisling: We???!!?!?!
Aye. Lachlan’s here with me.
Aisling: Mother of God he moves fast, doesn’t he?
I roll my eyes heavenward. Fast? I’ve waited damn near a lifetime for him to make a move.
I suppose. But anyway, he’s here. Seems there was an issue with my guard. Can’t find them.
Aisling: Odd. Hopefully everything’s okay. You up for the tour today?
Aye. I look out at the balcony. Lachlan will join me, though, okay?
Aisling: Be still my heart. Of course it’s okay.
We make plans, and he comes back in the room.
“Alright, lass,” he says. “I spoke with Keenan. He’s concerned about your guard. He’s confident you’re not safe. He agreed with me that we won’t run, and that we’ll find whoever’s behind this.”
I nod.
“So for now, I suppose I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend.”
He winces.
“Why do you look as if that pains you, Lachlan?” I ask. Just when I think I mean something to him…
“I don’t want to be your boyfriend,” he says. “I want so much more than that.”
Oh my God.
There’s a knock at the door indicating room service. I let him get it while I mull this over.
Chapter 8
Lachlan
I’ve been a fool not admitting how I feel about her. A damn fool.
Yes, Nolan could kick my arse and so could Sheena, but I’d kick my own blood
y arse if anyone harmed a hair on her head.
Fiona and I will make this work. And I’ll fight anyone who gets in our way.
I bring the tray of food into the room and settle it beside the bed.
“Eat. Then get ready.”
“Still a man of few words,” she muses with a teasing curl of her lip. She pounds her chest, and speaks in a comically deep voice. “Eat, woman.”
I hand her the tray with a warning look, though I can’t help but smile at her.
“Now.”
I sit beside her and dig into my plate of bacon and eggs, while she drizzles so much syrup on her pancakes I can hardly see them.
“Makes my teeth hurt just looking at that,” I say with a grimace.
“It’s delicious,” she says around a mouthful of pancakes.
We eat in comfortable silence. I watch as she cuts a piece of pancake with her knife and places it between her pouty lips. She chews and swallows, then shakes her head.
“What?”
“You’re beautiful.”
A faint flush of pink colors her cheeks, and she looks away. “Thank you. Is your food good?”
I’d give anything to keep this normal, to bask in the simplicity of being with Fiona, for as long as I can. Simplicity is underrated.
“Aye.”
“So after this… do you have anything to do?” she asks.
“Watch you.”
She smiles. “Even if that means coming onto campus with me?”
“Of course. I don’t want any of those dumb blokes thinking for a minute that you’re free.”
She gives me a teasing look. “But maybe I am.”
Heat surges in me at her taunt, but I keep myself in check. I reach over to cup her cheek in my hands, but my voice is laced with warning. “You’re bloody well not.”
She closes her eyes and her own hand clasps over mine. She sighs and shakes her head, but doesn’t speak for long minutes. Finally, she opens her eyes and stares at me.
“I feel like—like I’ve wanted this. And that it isn’t real. That I’m going to blink my eyes and wake from a dream. And you’ll be distant again. You’ll deny that you care.”
Deny that I care? Is that what she thinks?
I’ve spent years doing everything I could to protect her, to keep her safe, while I’ve been the one inflicting wounds. I regret what I’ve done, and I’m determined not to do it again.