“The House of Blues,” Cassie clarified. “You know, the funny thing is, until this season, I’ve been the one handling ChiChat’s live coverage of that event these past few years.”
“It would have been grand if we could have hosted together.” He turned, handing her the coffee. It was bonkers how deliriously happy the simple act of making the lass coffee made him. He wondered if it would always be this way. Christ, he hoped so. Heart full, he traced the lines of the small box in his jeans pocket. He’d been walking around with it ever since Christmas Eve. Afraid to lose it. More afraid to do anything with it.
Unaware of his dilemma, she sipped her coffee. “I can still come and enjoy the party. What time do you have to report to the venue?”
“In a few hours, there’s a sound check. The main act is a Celtic band.” He dumped some sugar in his mug and stirred. She may like her coffee strong as the devil, but he took his a wee sweeter. “I’m thinking that’s why I was the man for the job. I’ve heard a rumor there’ll be bagpipes.”
“Oooh, does this mean you’ll be wearing your kilt?”
“I suppose.” He shrugged, more interested in what she was wearing right now. While he was in jeans and bare-chested, she was bare-legged and wearing his shirt, the too-big sleeves falling past her fingertips, the hem grazing her thighs.
“Then I’ll definitely be there. I probably should go shopping for a dress,” she continued, oblivious to how he was staring at her over the rim of his mug. “But first I need a shower.” She set her coffee cup on the counter and began to work the buttons of the shirt loose.
His gaze locked on the movement of her fingers. Maybe she wasn’t so oblivious to his interest after all. She finished with the buttons and raised her eyes to his. “I have a suggestion.” The amber flecks in her irises sparked with heat and Logan felt an answering warmth spread through him.
“Oh?” he asked, placing his mug next to hers before reaching up to trace the shirt’s collar. He slipped a hand inside and pressed his thumb into the sensitive hollow of her throat. She shivered and he grinned, noting how her pulse beat faster beneath the pad of his thumb, how the hard peaks of her nipples poked through the white linen. He could see only a hint of the soft curve of her breasts where the fabric lay open, and a line of smooth skin leading down to the shadow of her belly button, all of it an exotic tease making him hungry for more. He grasped the lapels and widened the gap, revealing the delicate lines of her collarbones, luminous in the morning winter sunlight.
He tugged on the fabric until it slipped off her shoulders. As the shirt fell to the floor, he breathed in sharply, trying to take everything in at once. He loved the way her hair tumbled down over her naked breasts, chestnut waves against creamy skin. Loved the dip of her waist and swell of her hips. Logan cupped her, the gentle scrape of her taut nipples against his palms making him hard. “What do you suggest?” he asked, voice rough with lust.
“Let’s shower together.” She slipped out of his grasp and ran bare-arsed toward the loo.
Laughing, he caught up with her and pulled her close, palming her bum, gripping a cheek in each hand and massaging the generous curves. “That’s an excellent suggestion.” She felt so good. He couldn’t get enough of touching her. He never wanted to stop. Never. She moaned and his cock jerked, reminding him that while she was naked, he wasn’t—not yet.
“Come on.” He moved aside, giving her room to step into the shower stall. She flipped on the taps, providing him with another fabulous glimpse of that sweet rounded bottom he’d just had his hands all over. Water pulsed down, soaking her hair, cascading over her tits. Through the rising steam, he watched as rivulets trailed over her belly and disappeared into the dark curls at the juncture of her thighs.
“Well?” Her voice echoed in the small space. “Are you planning to join me?”
“Aye,” Logan croaked, mouth gone dry despite the humid air, “you doona need to ask me twice.” He shucked his jeans and joined her under the stream of water. Her body was slick and smooth, and he wanted to touch her everywhere at once. He moved behind her, holding her against him, her back to his chest.
Cassie rested her head against his shoulder, face upturned, eyes closed, water beading in her thick lashes. He bent and kissed her, tongue thrusting deep. She reached out and twined her fingers in his hair, tugging on the wet strands, pulling him closer. Logan skimmed his fingers over the swell of her hips, up to her breasts. He pinched both nipples, and she rocked backward, the curve of her ass teasing his cock. He groaned at the contact and bit her earlobe, trailing kisses down her neck while his hands continued to work her tits.
Her nipples were rock hard, and he rolled them between his fingers, tugging and teasing until she was panting, bucking her hips against him. Water streamed over his hands, and he followed the path down the valley between her breasts. When he reached the edge of her curls, he paused.
She covered his hand with hers, encouraging him to go lower. From his vantage point Logan watched as she guided him into her, their fingers slipping inside her together.
Hot, wet, slick, soft … his brain stopped forming words. She continued to control the movement of both their hands, and he let her lead, let her teach him. She was in command of how fast, how hard, how deep. His cock pressed into the cleft of her ass, aching to get a piece of the action. Logan took a step back and leaned against the shower wall. Slipping his free hand into the space between them, he took hold of his dick.
Still directing the action of their fingers inside her, Cassie reached behind her with her other hand and found him, her wee hand curving around him, right above his own. Christ. He sucked in a breath and steadied himself, shoulders pressed against the tile. He slid his hand up and down the ridge of his erection, her fingers doing the same, shadowing his movements.
Water continued to stream down over them as they followed and led each other, her fingers joined with his deep inside her, both their other hands wrapped around him. He tightened his grip on his cock, guiding her, leading her hand from base to tip. In response, she swiveled her hips and pushed her other hand harder against his, forcing the heel of his palm to brush her clit.
“That’s good. Oh, that’s so good,” Cassie gasped and her legs wobbled. He felt her pulse and throb around their fingers. He shut his eyes, head tilting back to rest against the slick tile as he joined her, his cock jerking in both their hands when he came.
She collapsed against him, closing the gap between them as they released their grip on each other. Logan wrapped his arms around her. He wasn’t sure how long they stood like that, or how long they would have remained there, letting the water pour over both of them, if the temperature hadn’t eventually shifted. When the shower began spraying cold water, Cassie yelped and jumped away from him, reaching for the taps.
She shut the water off and turned, pushing open the glass door. She stepped out of the shower, yanking a towel off the rack and wrapping it around her. “Here.” She smiled and tossed him a towel, her gaze straying lower.
“Ye’ve a wandering eye, lass,” he teased, smacking her on her towel-covered bottom. She yelped and ran from the loo, the sound of her giggles echoing down the hall.
He shook his head and pulled on his jeans. After zipping his pants, he checked his pocket to make sure the box was still in place. Mam had said the joy of loving someone was worth the pain of losing them—was worth the risk. He’d always prided himself on being someone who took risks, and hell, asking someone to spend her life with you felt like the ultimate risk. But to know he would have this woman in his life, to wake up to her each day, make her coffee, and then do the things they’d just done together in the shower … well.
He’d take whatever risks necessary. Today was New Year’s Eve. A time for resolutions. And tonight, as the new year dawned, he’d be ready.
* * *
As midnight approached, the crowd gathered to ring in the New Year at the House of Blues grew increasingly wilder … and louder. Cassie and Sadie tried
to work their way up to the second level to get a better view of the stage, but there were just too many people. “This way,” Sadie hollered over the din, adjusting her course and heading for the bar. Her small lithe form bobbed and weaved through the pulsing mass of dancers as she pulled Cassie along behind her. They made it to the counter and Sadie ordered two glasses of champagne. She handed one to Cassie. “Drink up.”
“Thanks.” Cassie smiled in appreciation. “And thanks for coming with me tonight.” Of all her friends, Sadie was the only one who could join her for the party. Ana had a catering gig, Delaney didn’t want to deal with getting in and out of the city on New Year’s Eve, and Bonnie had plans with Gabe.
“You bet.”
The band, a Celtic rock group called The Rebelles—replete with bagpipes, just as Logan had predicted—shifted into another song. The lead singer had wild, curly red hair and reminded Cassie of Bonnie. Thinking of her best friend sent a ripple of worry through her. “I hope Bonnie is having fun tonight.”
“Me too,” Sadie agreed, knocking back her champagne.
“Maybe Gabe will finally settle on a date, with the new year and all.”
“And maybe Bonnie will realize it’s never going to happen.”
“Sadie!” Cassie glanced down at her friend, not sure she’d heard her correctly in the noisy club.
“What?” Sadie stared into her empty glass. “I’m just saying, things don’t always work out the way you want them to. He was her first love, how often does that last? This is real life, not one of your romance novels, Cass.”
“Someone is a downer tonight,” Cassie chided. “Maybe you should have stayed home.”
“I’m sorry,” Sadie said. “Let me buy you another round.” She got a refill on their glasses, passed the bartender a generous tip, then turned back to Cassie. “May we all find our one true love.” She raised her glass in the air. “To happy endings.”
Cassie clinked her glass against Sadie’s. “To happy endings.”
An odd look, Cassie would almost call it wistfulness, crossed Sadie’s face, but it was gone in a blink. Sadie tucked a wayward gold curl behind her ear and nodded toward the brightly lit platform of cameras set up across the room, where Tiffany held court opposite from the stage—the queen of the ball, wearing her headset like a crown and wielding her microphone like a scepter. “Do you miss being up there?”
“Not really,” Cassie said, sipping her champagne.
Queen Tiffany, smile plastered on her face, lifted her mic to announce, “We’re ten minutes away from the New Year and ChiChat is ready to count down with you! How about it, Chicago, are you ready?”
The band launched into another tune, bodhrans pounding. As the Celtic stick drums rattled faster and faster, the stage lit up in a technicolor explosion of pyrotechnics. The audience roared, and when the smoke cleared, Logan stood centerstage. “Aye!” he yelled, brogue rolling. “I’m r-r-eady!” Cassie watched, breath hitching as he sauntered forward. “Back home in Scotland, we celebrate Hogmanay with a’lot of fireworks. What do you say?” He roared, “Let’s start this New Year with a bang!” He ran along the stage’s apron, more pyrotechnics exploding behind him, whipping the crowd into a frenzy as he high-fived the hands waving from the pit.
“You sure got yourself a hottie,” Sadie teased as they watched more than one tipsy partygoer try to peek up the Scotsman’s kilt.
Cassie kept her smile in place, though her heart was beating triple time, thumping faster and harder than the rhythmic pulse of fiddle and pipe pounding through the speakers. Her thoughts drifted back to this morning, replaying the things she and the man currently strutting around onstage had done to each other in her shower.
“Hey, party people,” Tiffany called, her face popping up on all the television screens peppered around the bar. “Only about five minutes ’til midnight, so grab a glass of champagne and get ready!”
A crowd quickly formed around the bar. Cassie gripped the stem of her glass as she and Sadie tried to find some open floor space. She glanced back up at the stage. Logan had jumped onto a platform and was rising high above the crowd. She hoped he was wearing something under that kilt.
She smoothed her hand over the sparkly fabric of the dress she’d found to wear tonight. It was a simple tank cut, the color strikingly similar to the pale indigo of the sweater dress Logan loved so much. She knew he was busy now, but hopefully he’d have time to see her later. After midnight.
The band wrapped up the number and as the last notes faded away, Logan raised his mic and shouted, “Is Cassie Crow in the house?”
Or maybe now.
His voice boomed from the speakers, and Cassie choked, sputtering champagne. The guy standing next to her cursed, glaring at her from beneath his man-bun. “Sorry.” She began to mumble an explanation, but stopped when Logan’s voice thundered through the speakers again.
“I’m looking for a Cassie Crow.” Logan stared out into the audience from his bird’s-eye view on the raised platform, hand over his eyes in an exaggerated gesture as he searched the crowd. “Cassie Crow, please report to the stage.”
Sadie stared at her, her violet eyes going wide, silently asking, What’s that all about?
Cassie has no idea. She gulped down the rest of round two, heart slamming against her ribcage. What was the damn Scot up to now?
Sadie let out a shrill whistle and jumped up on the bar. “She’s over here!” Sadie jumped up and down, jostling Man-bun as she waved her arms in the air, then pointed to Cassie’s head. A moment later a spotlight swirled in their direction, blinding Cassie and making the sparkles on her dress glitter like a disco ball.
“Ah, there you are, lass.” The platform began to lower and Logan nodded at a trio of bouncers standing near the edge of the stage.
Cassie debated hiding behind Man-bun, but before she could take a step, Sadie pushed her toward the triangle of beefcake. Surrounding her, the bouncers moved with military precision, navigating Cassie through the tight crowd, their big, intimidating bodies parting the sea of revelers with ease.
What the hell was going on? If she’d thought her heart was beating fast before, it was nothing compared to what her pulse did now as the security detail escorted her to where Logan stood waiting. The audience cheered while the bouncers hoisted her up on to the stage. Cassie had no choice but to grab Logan’s hand as she was deposited next to him.
“Nice dress, lass,” he said, pulling her close, putting an arm around her waist to help steady her. As soon as she had her balance back, he lifted his mic and addressed the crowd, his jovial tone turning solemn. “Before the year is over, there’s one thing I’ve got to do.”
He gestured to the band, and the pounding beat subsided. When Logan dropped to one knee, a blast of cheers and wolf whistles careened from one side of the theatre to the other. Loud as the crowd was, Cassie could barely hear them above the blood pounding in her own ears. She stood frozen in the spotlight, transfixed as Logan slipped a small velvet box out of his pocket.
If this is another prank, there’s going to be one less Scot in the world. Her champagne-buzzed brain couldn’t move past that single thought.
Logan flipped the lid of the box open and the crowd, so incredibly vocal moments ago, went silent, the entire room caught up in the moment.
“Cassie Crow, would you do me the honor…” Logan paused, clearing his throat.
Oh my God, he’s going to do it. He’s really going to do it. She had the weird, wild, fleeting thought that now she’d need to get a dog.
“Cassie,” he repeated her name, his voice tender, “will you marry me?
She licked lips gone dry—instantly, startlingly sober. In the sudden hush, it was easy to hear the thundering tick of the giant animated clock emblazoned on the floor-to-ceiling projector screen.
Thirty seconds.
She swallowed and shifted her gaze from the clock to the ring, the sparkle almost blinding beneath the blaze of stage lights.
Twenty second
s.
Was he serious? She turned back to Logan, waiting on bended knee. She’d asked him to be serious, and damn, if he didn’t look serious. He stared up at her, and as the moment drew out his face tightened, bravado slipping, the cocksure frat-boy grin she knew so well starting to fade.
Fifteen seconds.
Still, she hesitated. She’d said she wanted this, but that had been in the long-term … not the immediate future. A happily ever after that started with a happy for now. This was too fast, too soon. Where would the wedding be? Hell, where would they live?
“I’ll marry you, handsome!” someone shouted from the mezzanine. The drunken outburst broke the spell, and the crowd erupted in laughter, excitement swelling as the final countdown to midnight began.
“TEN!”
Cassie thought she heard Tiffany leading the chorus of voices booming around them.
“NINE!”
She bent her head, leaning in close to Logan. “Are you for real?”
“EIGHT!”
His eyes sparked, and she knew he remembered the first time she’d asked him that same question. “Aye, lass.” His answer was more breath than sound, a puff of air against her cheek. “I’m for real.”
“SEVEN!”
Cassie placed a hand on his chest, the rapid beat of his heart thudding against her palm. Despite the waves of heat rolling off him, she caught the shiver that passed through his body when she touched him.
“SIX!”
When he’d opened the lid on that box, it was like he’d opened her heart, her soul. Hope and dreams and love flooded her veins in a rush of emotion. She was Wendy, back in Neverland, and he was her Peter Pan, offering up her fondest wish.
“FIVE!”
Only it wasn’t an escape for a night, or a fantasy foreign fling, or even a fun few months Cassie wished for. She wanted forever, and she wanted it with him.
“FOUR!”
She closed her eyes and envisioned their future together, fragments of a million moments, a thousand adventures, flashing by in the space of a single heartbeat.
Getting Hot with the Scot--A Sometimes in Love Novel Page 31