“I have your permission to do as I please?” her Neanderthal would say.
“Yes.”
His hands would squeeze the globes of her behind. “Anything I please?”
“Yes.” The word would tremble out of her.
“Donna?” A very real voice broke into her dream.
Donna shot to her feet. “I need to go.” And then she ran.
The last thing she saw was Duncan standing at the table, staring after her, a frown on his face.
Chapter 19
It was mid-morning, the day after Donna had run out on her date. The ball was in three short days. Duncan was holed up in his office, preparing for the lecture he was to give at Glasgow School of Art. Not that she’d spoken to him. This information came from the cook. The Women’s Institute committee members were sneaking in and out to make arrangements under Grace’s watchful eye. The renovation of the carriage house was coming to an end.
And Donna had fallen in love with her boss.
She let out a strangled scream as she lay on her floor in the middle of her living room and stared up at the ceiling.
“I’m such an idiot,” she said, and for the first time in years, no imaginary characters answered.
Her phone buzzed on the floor beside her, and she picked it up to read the screen. On our way to the mansion, Agnes had written.
Donna didn’t move. Her sisters would come looking for her anyway, and she didn’t particularly care if they found her having a breakdown in the middle of her floor. She’d found them in worse positions more than once.
A few minutes later, a key scraped in the door before it opened wide. Agnes and Mairi looked down at her.
“What happened?” Agnes said. “Who do I have to hurt?”
“Don’t get up,” Mairi said. “I need to take a picture for Isobel.” She lifted her phone.
Donna was past caring. Her life had imploded. She stared at the ceiling some more as she heard the door click shut. Agnes sat on the edge of the sofa beside her.
“Did he hurt you?” she demanded.
“No, of course not. Why is that always the first conclusion you jump to?”
“The man is unstable. Sue me for expecting him to blow and take us all out with him when he does.”
“FYI,” Mairi said. “I’m recording this for Izzy.” She kept her camera trained on them.
“Turn the damn thing off,” Agnes ordered.
“Fine, be like that.” Mairi put it back in her pocket and folded to sit tailor-style beside Donna on the floor. “What’s up, Donnie?”
She took a deep breath and let it all out. “I’ve fallen in love with Duncan,” she wailed.
Her torturous confession didn’t get the response she’d expected. Mairi was staring at Agnes with confusion.
“She didn’t know?” she said.
“Know what?” Donna snapped.
Mairi looked back at her. “That you’ve been in love with Duncan almost from the day you started here.”
“That’s not true!” She would have noticed.
The sisters shared a look, and Mairi’s face softened. She patted Donna’s arm. “Donnie, it’s the reason you’re still here. You love the man.”
She swung her gaze between them. “Why didn’t someone say something?”
“Because we thought you didn’t want to talk about it,” Mairi said. “And it didn’t seem like Duncan was going to come out of his funk anytime soon.”
Her eyes narrowed at her little sister. “It wasn’t a funk. He was grieving.”
“Yeah, that.” Mairi nodded.
Donna let her head thump back to the floor. “What am I going to do?”
Her sisters spoke at the same time.
“Have sex with him,” Mairi said.
“Get a new job,” Agnes said.
Donna groaned. She would have been better off talking to Hermione and Gandalf.
“Have sex with him?” Agnes snapped at Mairi. “Are you out of your mind? She can’t sleep with him.”
“Why not?” That Mairi looked genuinely confused did not bode well for the IQ range of any children she might have. “She loves him, and that’s what people do when they’re in love, they have sex.”
Agnes pinched the bridge of her nose before answering. “Exactly. She loves him. And Duncan loves?” Her eyebrows rose as she willed Mairi to join the dots for herself.
Donna couldn’t wait for her. “He loves his wife,” she wailed again.
Mairi’s face was blank. “I still don’t understand why that means she can’t sleep with him. Fiona isn’t here, and she is. Why can’t she bonk his brains out so that she’ll never regret not having sex with the man she loves?”
“You are deeply disturbed.” Agnes pointed at Mairi.
Donna had to agree. “I’m not having sex with him. In fact, I don’t even want to see him again. I think Agnes’ idea about changing jobs is a good one.” Although it would hurt to move on, she figured it would still hurt less than knowing she’d never have a place in Duncan’s heart.
“I hate to break it to you,” Agnes said. “But as much as I agree that you need to move on and get away from him, you still have to see him every day until you do.”
She groaned again. This was agony. “I’ll talk to him. Tell him this isn’t working for me and that I want to go back to the way things were.”
There was silence for a beat before her sisters laughed.
“You’re going to set him straight?” Mairi wiped her eyes.
“Yes. Is that so hard to believe?” Now they were really annoying her. Whatever happened to having the support of her sisters?
“You do that,” Agnes said, clearly humouring her. “And while you’re telling him all about how you want things to be between you, you can keep him away from the mansion too. This afternoon would be the best time to get him out of here and have your talk.”
Donna ignored Agnes’ tone. There was no point arguing. Her sisters would see for themselves afterwards that she was more than capable of putting some distance between her and Duncan until she could find another job. Although, she’d needed to get over feeling nauseous every time she even thought about leaving the mansion.
“What’s wrong now?” she said.
“There’s a problem with the sound system for the ball,” Agnes told her. “The technicians need access. We can’t use the varnishing excuse again to keep him out of there, so you have to come up with a reason to get him out of the building for a couple of hours.”
“Why can’t we tell him there’s a problem with the varnish?” Mairi asked.
“Because,” Agnes said with forced patience, “he’s an artist. He knows about varnish. He’ll want to go in there and see what the problem is for himself. Won’t he?” she asked Donna.
“Probably,” she admitted. “I think you two should keep him occupied and out of the way. I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to spend time with him until I’ve prepared what I want to say to him.” Or possibly written it down and pinned it to his office door.
Agnes was shaking her head. “You’re the only one he listens to. You need to get him out of here.” She looked at her watch. “In an hour.”
“How? It took two weeks to get him to agree to go to Glasgow. How am I supposed to get him out of the building in an hour?”
“Ask him to go play pool,” Mairi said.
“I can’t. I’m banned from playing. Remember?” She was banned from a lot of things at the local pub. The owner was a stick-in-the-mud.
“You’re only banned from playing for money. You can still play for fun.”
“Plus,” Agnes added, “it’s the only idea we’ve come up with.”
“It’s a stupid one. I need to distance myself from Duncan, not spend more time alone with him. What if he figures out I’m in love with him? What then?”
Again, they spoke at the same time.
“Jump his bones,” Mairi said.
“Tell him he’s mistaken,” Agnes said, then glar
ed at Mairi. “Is sex all you think about?”
She considered that for a moment. “Yeah,” she said with a nod.
“Okay.” Agnes stood before bending over to give Donna a hand up. “Let’s ignore her and get you ready to take Duncan out.”
“What’s wrong with the way I am now?” Apart from the fact she was still lying on the floor that is. She wore her usual work clothes—black trousers, white blouse, flat shoes.
“Everything,” Mairi said. “Come on. I’ll help.”
“Oh great,” Agnes drawled. “With your help, we’ll have her dressed like a stripper in no time at all.”
***
Duncan should have been preparing his art college lecture, instead he was flicking through the copy of The Hobbit he’d found and marvelling again at the quality of the drawings. He traced the outline of the dragon with his fingertip. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to mentor someone again. It would be a shame for talent like this to go to waste.
He made a mental note to find the book’s owner after he came back from Glasgow, then slipped the book into the bag containing his lecture notes—what there was of them. If he got the chance, he’d have a word with the Fine Arts dean about the illustrations. Maybe she could give him some pointers on how best to encourage this kind of talent.
A knock on his door had him holding his breath. He’d kept his distance from Donna after she’d run out the night before because he was hoping she’d make her own way to him. She had until dinner to get her act together and then he planned to hunt her down.
When her head appeared around his door, he felt a wave of relief, quickly followed by something he hadn’t felt in years—hope. She’d come to him.
“Got a minute?” she said, not looking him in the eye.
“Sure. What’s up?” He came around to perch against his desk, playing it cool.
That lasted until she stepped into the room, and then everything changed. Because Donna wasn’t wearing her usual workwear. Instead, she wore the fern green Snoopy T-shirt he loved and faded blue jeans that hugged her curves like loving hands. Her hair sat tousled around her shoulder, her lips were painted a subtle shade of pink, and sexy beige suede boots peeked out from under her jeans.
She was talking, but he couldn’t hear a word she was saying over the buzzing in his ears. He had to touch her. It felt as though he might die if he didn’t. All the sexual frustration from the evening before came rushing back, and all he could think about was getting his hands on those sexy curves.
His eyes zeroed in on her lips, watching their lush fullness move as she spoke. If he didn’t taste them, he was going to explode. She gestured, and the wide neck of her shirt slipped off her shoulder, exposing all that luscious creamy skin and one violet coloured bra strap. The sight was like a tractor beam locking onto him and pulling him in.
Before he’d made a conscious decision to do so, he was on his feet and moving. He stalked towards her, watching the green of her eyes deepen as those perfect pinks spread like an ink blot over her skin.
He followed her as she backed up against the wall, his hands going to her hips.
“Stop talking,” was all he said before his mouth took hers.
And it was a taking. A frantic, desperate taking—from them both. He groaned when her hands slid up over his shoulders and her fingers threaded into his hair. Their bodies pressed tightly together, and he could feel every soft, voluptuous curves against him.
She tasted like paradise. Or maybe hot, sensual sin. Aye. On the outside, Donna was all angel, but inside, she was molten sin. Perfect. He slid his hand down her outer thigh and tucked it under her knee, intent on pulling her leg up around his hip so he could grind their bodies together. Too short. She couldn’t reach. He tore his lips from hers, clutched her waist and lifted her off her feet.
“Legs around me, now.”
Deep green, slumberous eyes met his as she did as he ordered, hooking her ankles behind him. Her swollen lips parted, but Duncan didn’t give her time to say anything. He leaned forwards and nipped her bottom lip. She moaned into his mouth. Hot. So bloody hot.
He pressed his hard length against her, feeling the heat of her entrance against him, wishing they didn’t have two pairs of jeans between them. The sounds she made drove him wild: little whimpers of need, deep moans of protest when he moved his head away from hers, gasping whines when he pressed into her.
“Angel, you’re noisy,” he said against her lips.
“Is that bad?” Green eyes searched his.
“No, I’m just not used to it. But I love it.” He kissed her again. Tangling their tongues, desperate for more. She didn’t disappoint, letting him know what worked for her with every little sound she made.
“Do you scream when you come?” he whispered as he kissed his way across her jaw to her ear.
“Yes,” she gasped.
One word and he almost came in his pants. He felt like he was a teenager all over again, losing control with the first girl who drove him wild. He felt her back arch and her breasts push into him.
“What is it?” he whispered against the shell of her ear.
She made a needy little sound, pressing her lush breasts against him again.
“You want me to touch your breasts, Angel?”
She shivered. “Yes,” she breathed the word.
It seemed his Donna was shy about asking for what she needed, and somehow that made him hotter than hell. He covered her breast with his hand as he nuzzled her throat, feeling her fingernails digging into his shoulders. She fit his hand and more, spilling over his hold, her hard, little nipple poking into his palm as he massaged her. By the sound of it, she liked what he was doing. A lot. The noises were fantastic. They took the guesswork out of pleasing her.
The scent of her skin made his knees go weak. Vanilla and cinnamon were his new favourite flavours. She arched her back, baring her throat to his teeth, and he took the invitation, nipping, sucking, licking.
“Duncan.” She panted, rocking against his hard cock.
He moved back to her ear. “Do you think you can make yourself come like this, Angel? Can you rock your way to the finish line?”
His answer was a deep moan, and he smiled against her throat as his fingers teased her hard nipple through her top. Was it the same colour as her lips? Darker? Did the skin over her chest flush when she was turned on? He was suddenly desperate for the answers to his questions.
Her gasps were coming faster now. He ground his hips against her as he pinched her nipple. Fingers clutched at him as her head fell back against the wall. Duncan took her earlobe into his mouth and bit.
Donna’s back bowed, and a long, explosive cry filled the air. As she writhed against him, he held her tight, reciting lists of Renaissance painters to keep himself from following her over the edge. He’d never seen a woman come so fast from so little. It blew his mind.
As she relaxed in his hold, and her breathing slowed, Duncan found himself smiling. His Donna was easy. And he bloody loved it.
“That was humiliating,” Donna said when she came back down to earth.
“You mean because you came all over me and we’re both still fully dressed?” He beamed at her. She had the tousled look of a well-satisfied woman, and he couldn’t help the stab of pride he felt at the sight.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Stop looking so smug.”
“I think I have a right to, don’t you?”
She made a strangled little cry. This time it was more irritated than sexy. “Put me down.”
He did as she ordered, adjusting himself in the tight confines of his jeans while she righted her top. Through the window, movement in the grounds caught his eye.
Two men were hefting a large black box across his lawn. “Are they carrying a speaker?”
“What?” Her eyes jerked to the window. “Don’t be daft,” she said before taking his arm and steering him to the door. “So, are you going to answer my question?” She batted her eyelashes at him, mesmerising him.
“What question?”
“I knew you weren’t listening.” She opened the door and pushed him into the corridor. “I asked you if you’d like to come to the pub with me this afternoon for a game of pool and a chat.”
He stopped dead. “You want to go play pool?”
“Yes. And chat.”
Obviously, the chat part was important to her. He hoped to hell she wasn’t going to bang on about their confusing work relationship again. Not after what had just happened. “You want to go play now?”
“Yes.”
“In the middle of the day. When you have work?”
She narrowed her eyes at him, and he got the impression he was treading on thin ice. “I can make up the hours tonight.”
He studied her face to see if he could figure out what she was up to. There were no clues in those sparkling emerald eyes of hers.
“Why do you want to play pool?”
“I like the game, Duncan. It isn’t rocket science. Now, do you want to go or not?”
“Aye, we can go play pool, if you’re that desperate for a game.”
She muttered about Dementors again as she stalked down the corridor in front of him. As she went, all he could do was watch the roll of her hips in awe. Her backside in those jeans was a work of art, worthy of a place in the Louvre.
“Are you coming?” she said, casting an irritated look over her shoulder.
“I wish,” he muttered as he followed her.
Chapter 20
Well, that was embarrassing.
She’d gone to Duncan’s office with the intention of getting him out of the building and telling him that they needed to go back to being employee and employer—if that’s even what they’d been in the first place. Instead, all she’d done was make him think her libido was equipped with a hair trigger. Had any woman in the history of the planet ever orgasmed over so little? She was an embarrassment to her gender.
And to make matters worse, judging by the smug smile on Duncan’s face, it seemed he now thought he was God’s gift to women. He glanced her way as he drove thought the back roads to Campbeltown.
Can't Stop the Feeling: Romantic Comedy (Sinclair Sisters Trilogy Book 2) Page 17