Magnus tapped the steering wheel, his jaw set. ‘Oh, sure.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Yeah, why not. One room, one bed. Let’s do it. I’ve waited five years to finish it.’
Taylor swallowed. Her hand trembled as she fingered the side of her phone. ‘You, um, have waited five years… For me?’
‘What’s got into you?’
‘I don’t follow.’
‘I’m sorry if this disappoints you, but no, I haven’t waited for you. I haven’t really thought about you since. And don’t take this the wrong way, but it was just—’
‘Sex?’
‘Whoa.’ He ran his hand down his face. ‘Ok, I know you’ve had tough times in your life, but unless you’ve suffered some memory loss, you know as well as I do, we never got that far.’
‘Oh… yeah, yeah.’ Taylor fiddled with her nails. So, he’d never been with Skylar. A smile spread over her cheeks. That was good news, but her insides vibrated and she shuddered. He’d just agreed to share a bed. Had he meant it? A wicked surge fired a picture into her mind: Skylar’s face when she found out. Skylar hated Taylor getting any attention. Succeeding where Skylar had failed was too – ooh – far too delicious. ‘After the rehab, things get muddled. And you know how many guys I’ve been with – it all becomes a blur.’
‘Seriously? That has turned me right off. I’ll stick to my own room.’
‘Oh. I didn’t mean it like that.’ Though having his own room was probably for the best. ‘I always liked you. You were the guy that got away. I’m glad you never wasted time dwelling on me.’
Magnus side-eyed her. ‘That’s bullshit. The guy who got away? You?’
‘Too much?’ She drummed her fingers on her lap and smiled out the window; her reflection in the wing mirror seemed to give her a wink of encouragement. ‘Maybe it’s your singing. You’ve pulled me under your spell.’
‘Get a grip,’ he said, but he was grinning.
‘Do you remember when we first met in the bar on my birthday? That was the real me, no pretence. You were kind and I…’ She closed her mouth. Saying she’d regretted not meeting him again was stupid. In his mind, they had.
‘Yeah, I remember. And you’re a better actress than I thought. You really know how to play to a guy’s ego. Best make it one room after all. How can I resist?’
*
Cool, clear darkness settled over the Scottish countryside. The ferry port of Oban glittered in a pool of streetlamps as Magnus and Taylor wound down the steep road. The bay curved around for some distance and in the blackness which must be the sea, the beam of a distant lighthouse flicked rhythmically.
Taylor booked the hotel with one room and one bed in her desire for wicked revenge and hoped Magnus wasn’t being sarcastic when he’d agreed to it. She clenched her fingers, clawing back a growing pang of anxiety. A cold sweat clung beneath her t-shirt. What if she was a total disappointment? Would it matter? If he thought Skylar Rousse was terrible in bed, then why did she care?
But she wanted it to be good, to remove Skylar from the equation and be with him. The craving for an emotional connection wrenched deep inside. Being physically close to him might satisfy the urge. If only in the short term.
She rested back and closed her eyes. If she did a bit of method acting, she could make-believe for the next few hours that they were a real couple, heading off on vacation. Warm bubbles swelled inside and calmed her. In reality, it was never going to happen. Her world had a different definition of normal, and no matter how long she hid away, one day she’d have to return. But right now, she was a normal person on her way to a hotel with her boyfriend. The word increased her delight and she restrained a squeal.
Magnus slipped out of the car, tossed back his shoulders and took a few wide steps to the trunk. He removed the cases and adjusted the handles. As Taylor took hers, she thrust out her other hand and beamed. With a resigned smile, Magnus took hold and gently squeezed her fingertips. ‘You’re milking this now, aren’t you?’
‘Sure, honey.’ She winked. Safety circled outward from Magnus’s grip and the tension drained from Taylor’s limbs. They strolled into the lobby of the waterfront hotel. Streetlamps cast long orange beams onto the gently rippling water. ‘This place is like something from a roaring twenties mystery movie. Check out the art deco, I love it.’
Magnus looked around. ‘I guess. I never really noticed before.’ He headed straight for the reception desk, signed the paperwork, and took the key card. ‘I’m starving,’ he said. ‘I kind of skipped lunch, thinking I’d be home for tea.’
‘Should we go out?’
‘Depends how incognito you want to be.’
‘Do you honestly think people will still recognise me?’
‘I don’t know.’ He stared at her and frowned. ‘Probably not. I think you’ll be safe enough unless we run into a group of fourteen-year-old Cute Witch Academy fans.’
‘Or some more guys like you.’ Taylor giggled. ‘With a thing for musicals.’
‘Yeah, yeah. I like the classics. I don’t go in for all the glitz though. But I doubt anyone will recognise you when you’re, well, all natural.’ His eyes skimmed over her, sending her limbs to jelly.
‘The magic of Hollywood,’ she said.
‘I think I like you better this way,’ said Magnus. He held her gaze and a charge of desire surged inside her.
‘You do?’
‘You seem much more real.’ He punched the button on the elevator. ‘Let’s offload the bags, then we can figure out what to do about food.’
Taylor let her eyelids drop briefly and stifled a yawn in the dim lights. What a long day. ‘If we hit the bedroom, I might not leave.’
‘I’m doing nothing on an empty stomach. I can’t function without food.’
‘Easy, tiger. I meant I might fall asleep.’
‘I know what you meant.’ He grinned and gently cuffed her upper arm.
As they entered the room, Taylor scanned the freshly made bed and the weight of her plans crushed her in a vice grip. What if he was expecting some Hollywood style moves? She didn’t have a clue. She hadn’t even done it with the lights on. Up against walls, stoned or paralytic was more her thing; she didn’t even recall what the guys looked like or how she got there most of the time. But that had been a long time ago…
Magnus caught her eye. ‘I told you, no show before food.’ Stepping towards the window, he looked out over the town. Taylor joined him. Her heart leapt as he placed his arm around her shoulder. ‘How about I introduce you to a British delicacy?’
‘Which is?’
‘Fish and chips by the seaside. I’ll treat you to death by cholesterol and you can spend the next two weeks trying to regain your pre-greasy-meal body.’
‘Ok, I’m not sure you’re doing a great job of selling it to me.’
With a gentle tug, he pulled her round to face him. He swept her hair behind her neck, then skimmed his hands over her shoulders, leaned in and placed a smouldering kiss on her cheek. Taylor let out a whimper. ‘Fish and chips’ – he whispered in her ear – ‘are very quick, which will leave so much more time… for whatever you want to do.’ His lips returned to her cheek, moving slowly onto her neck.
What kind of thing was he expecting? Fifty shades? ‘I eh…’
‘That includes sleep. Come on, everybody loves chips.’ He clicked her a wink and grabbed his coat from the handle of his case. ‘Take a jacket, it’s cold out there and we’ll be eating them outside.’
‘Outside? Wow, ok. You Scottish guys are men of steel, right?’
‘Wait and see,’ he smirked, pulling open the door.
Not far along the street, a dazzling neon sign belted out its message: Fish and Chips, from between the other more modest shops, all shut up for the day. Magnus rubbed his palms together and grinned as he joined the line that stretched outside along the sidewalk.
‘The sign of a good chippie,’ he said. ‘When the queue is out the door.’
‘If
you say so.’
‘I do, Skylar.’ He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. ‘You know, I was in two minds about you coming along, but now, I’m glad you did.’
‘Are you?’
‘Yeah. You’re fun.’
‘Am I?’
‘Well, you know your Lloyd Webber. What more could I ask for?’
If that was all it took to please him, she had it in the bag.
After standing in line for ten minutes in the oil-smelling chip shop, Taylor screwed up her face at the greasy paper packet. ‘It comes in paper?’
‘Good old-fashioned ones do,’ said Magnus. ‘I hate it when you get chips in a box, they never taste the same as the ones in paper.’
Fresh air stung Taylor’s cheeks and lips as they stepped outside.
‘Let’s get a seat,’ said Magnus.
‘A seat?’ Taylor scanned around.
‘Yup. One of the benches on the promenade. It’ll be cold as ice, but it’s all part of the experience.’
‘You’re crazy.’ Taylor laughed, following him along the street. He nipped across the road and strolled on towards the sea.
‘Here we are.’ He threw himself down and crossed his long legs in front of him.
The slab of chilled bench numbed the back of Taylor’s thighs within seconds of sitting. ‘This is freezing.’ She clung to the warm packet in her hands.
‘Told you. But eat your chips and don’t worry, I’ll warm you up later.’
His words sent a buzz of excitement zipping through her. She prised open the paper and bit into the most bizarre tasting “chips”. Just as well I’m not actually Skylar; her sister would die of shock just looking at these… In fact, she’d never have made it into the shop. ‘You know these are just greasy fries, right?’
‘Sacrilege,’ said Magnus.
‘Says you who’s covered yours in vinegar and brown sauce.’
‘Yup, and just wait until I kiss you. Think of the flavour.’
‘Oh, please.’
He burst out laughing. The warm, rich sound carried through the still evening air. Some birds took off from the water with a noisy beat of wings. Taylor laughed along. ‘I hope you have some strong mouthwash.’
‘Spoilsport.’
After eating as many chips as she could stomach, Taylor tossed the paper into the nearest garbage can and held out her fingers. ‘I’m covered in grease.’
‘Good old grease. Lick it off, don’t waste it.’ He stood up and discarded his litter. ‘Or will I do it for you?’
‘Seriously?’
‘Sure.’ He took hold of her hand, drew her towards him and stared into her eyes. Taylor’s knees wobbled as he lifted a finger to his mouth and sucked the end of it. ‘Delicious.’ He winked. The streetlamp’s glow highlighted his features, showing off his well-sculpted nose, shapely cheeks and strong jaw. Handsome Hansen was the perfect nickname.
‘Actually…’ Taylor swallowed. His gaze was still on her, inviting her to come closer. ‘The vinegar thing… I think I’d like to try it.’ She rose on her tiptoes, bringing her almost nose to nose with him. He was tall but she wasn’t short. Their lips touched, and Taylor relaxed, allowing every tingle to zap through her and hit all the right places. This was it, what she’d waited for, and it was so good; even the odd taste of vinegar added a pleasurable sting. Magnus took hold of her cheeks, gently holding them as he slipped closer, maintaining the kiss. Taylor edged forward until their groins pressed together. Magnus slipped his hand under her arm and pulled her against him. Taylor entangled her fingers in his hair at the same moment their tongues touched. ‘Oh…’ Her tummy flipped.
‘Skylar,’ he murmured into the kiss. ‘Let’s get back.’
The elevator was empty, the vinegar irrelevant. Taylor was glued at the lips to Magnus and had no intention of letting go. By the time they reached the room in a fumble of buttons and zippers, neither of them had their jackets on. Taylor’s lungs spasmed as Magnus stumbled inside and turned on the light, dimming it low.
‘Sure you want to do this?’ He waited until she nodded, then hauled off his sweater, closely followed by his t-shirt. Could she stretch behind him and put out the light, save her blushes and her complete lack of experience? But then she’d miss that chest. It was begging to be stroked, kissed, and pressed against hers. She’d seen Hollywood guys with perfectly sculpted abs, but this was better. Magnus had muscles honed from what looked like time well-spent not obsessive body worship; a light smatter of golden hair covered him, tapering into a thin line at his navel. All real, nothing fake. ‘You know, Skylar. You’re so different.’
Taylor chewed her bottom lip as he stepped closer. ‘Better or worse?’
‘So much better.’ He gently kissed her neck. ‘I didn’t regret not sleeping with you before. I didn’t care one way or another, but now I want to. It feels right this time. It’s like we were meant to meet again and to have this chance to get it right. No alcohol, no crowd.’ Taylor’s heart pounded. His words warmed her to the core. He wedged himself against her and she closed her eyes, accepting kisses wherever he chose to put them. If she let him lead, everything would be ok. His hands roamed under her top, grazing her nipples through her bra. ‘Oh, Skylar Rousse, you are so hot,’ he said with a groan that sent rocket fuel pumping into her veins.
She pounced on him, taking even herself by surprise, but it seemed as if he’d been waiting for that exact move and he lifted her off the ground. She locked her legs around his waist, kissing him deeply, their lips burning as they meshed together.
‘Magnus…’ Taylor pulled back, but he didn’t stop, moving his attention to her neck. ‘Stop,’ she said. A tremor ran through her. This was too good… except for one thing.
‘Are you ok?’ Magnus’s arms held her fast, his pupils wide with concern. ‘You’re shaking like a leaf. Let’s not do this.’
‘I want to,’ she heaved. ‘I’m just nervous, excited nervous, you know?’ A truth she knew Skylar would never have uttered, but she didn’t want to be Skylar. Not for this.
‘Are you?’ He raised his hand and stroked her hair behind her ear, turning her to jelly. ‘I didn’t expect you to be—’
‘Listen.’ She swallowed, her shoulders trembling. ‘I wonder… Would you do something for me?’
‘Sure. Name it. I’ll try anything once.’
‘Don’t call me Skylar.’
‘Wow, ok.’ Still supporting her with one hand, his other slipped under her top and traced a gentle pattern along the back of her bra. ‘So, what do you want me to call you?’
His cheeky smile widened. Of course, he was expecting her to say something kinky. ‘My real name.’
‘Because Skylar’s not your real name?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Ok, I get it. A Marion Morrison style thing.’
‘Kind of, but, you know… when you say Skylar, it doesn’t feel like me.’ And she needed to be herself right now. ‘When we’re doing this, I want to be me.’
‘So, what should I call you?’ A soft volley of kisses landed on her neck and he unclipped her bra inside her top.
She forced out the word, ‘Taylor.’
Magnus stopped and looked at her, staying his hand. Taylor held her breath. Had she been rumbled? Maybe he knew Skylar had a sister by that name. He’d worked for Courtney Hines and she would have known.
‘Taylor?’ His frown grew and her heartrate accelerated. This was going to end with a bang. Her lungs closed down like the air was too thick. She clung to his neck in case he dropped her. Magnus’s lips quirked into a smile and he shook his head. ‘You changed your name from Taylor to Skylar?’
‘I, eh… yes.’
‘Even though they sound so alike?’
‘Oh… Yes. I suppose they do, but, you know, with competition from Taylor Swift, it was safer to be unique.’
‘You’re certainly unique. Taylor.’ He breathed her name onto her throat and she shuddered. Then, lowering her onto the bed, he moved on top, clamping his h
ands to her hips as she unlocked her ankles. She rubbed against him, a desperate ache willing him closer.
‘Oh,’ she moaned as he grazed her neck with more kisses, moving lower, his tongue gliding along her collarbone under her t-shirt. He pushed her loosened bra straps out of the way.
‘You’re sensational,’ he said. ‘Let’s not hide it.’ His palms slid up her ribs, taking the top and the bra with him and slipping them over her head. Taylor moaned. If he was super observant, he might notice her breasts weren’t as perfect as her sister’s surgically enhanced version, but knowing he’d never gone this far with Skylar stopped her fretting, and she forgot completely as he gently touched her. She arched back, grabbing fistfuls of sheeting and squealing in delirium as his lips worked their way down her body.
He thought she was sensational? What did that make him? Off the scale. He knew his way around a woman. She flinched, realising he knew how to make her happy more than she knew herself.
‘Hey. Are you ok?’ he murmured, moving close to her face again. His voice soothed and he gently stroked her exactly where she craved it.
She whimpered, ‘yes,’ barely able to form a coherent word among the overload of pleasure furling inside.
He kissed her again, and Taylor shoved her fingers in his hair, grinding against his hand as his lips devoured her. She spun into a daze of ecstasy. His arms slipped around her back, pulling her against the hot slab of his chest.
He groaned. ‘Let’s not get carried away. We have to be sensible.’
He pushed himself up, breaking her hold, abandoning her to rake about in his luggage. Taylor used the moment to regain her breath, then to lose her remaining clothes, flicking her panties from her ankle. Magnus returned to the bed, buck naked and all man. She took a moment to admire him. He lowered himself on top of her and his hot skin tickled every nerve end, sending blood surging to her ears. The virile scent of him invaded her pores, making her weightless and giddy. With a little wiggle, she positioned herself, her breathing ragged, her cheeks and neck burning, and the cells in her body pining with desperation. He moved in gently and she gasped, then exhaled in short pants.
A Flight of Fancy (Scottish Island Escapes Book 6) Page 6