by Anna Durand
"No, it was great." I took a sip from my can of root beer, needing a couple seconds to phrase my explanation. "You told me once you don't care about the trappings of wealth and your needs are simple. I let you know mine are simple too." I tapped my fingernail on the can. Tick, tick, tick. "Which is why I don't get the Everest thing. It was sweet and all, but you know you don't have to try so hard to impress me."
"Don't I?" He scratched his cheek, staring down at the sandwich perched on his thigh, seeming genuinely nonplussed.
"No," I'd said with deliberate emphasis. Then I did a Lachlan thing to Lachlan, hooking my finger under his chin to urge him to look at me. "Trust me, money does not impress this girl."
"What does?" He fiddled with the collar of his shirt and cleared his throat. I tickled him with the finger still rooted under his chin, winning a faint smile from him, but he quickly turned serious again. "I'd like to know."
He wanted to know what impressed me? Maybe I should've lied. But Casey chose that moment to hop up from where he'd been lounging on the grass to nuzzle Lachlan's hand. My dog adored him, so I told the truth. "You impress me, Lachlan. You're a good man. The best."
And a fantastic kisser. An exciting lover. Fun to talk to, to hang out with, to laugh with.
He'd captured my hand with his then, my finger sticking up between his thumb and forefinger. "Good, bad, I don't know. But you make me feel like a man, Erica."
Stunned, I'd floundered for a response. He drew my finger into his mouth, sucking lightly, until I forgot everything we'd just said to each other. Now, back in the present, I gazed into his gorgeous eyes and wondered what he'd meant when he said I made him feel like a man. I considered asking him for about a millisecond, before he ducked his head under my shirt to latch onto my nipple with his mouth. His tongue swirled around the taut tip, erasing all my questions.
After our discussion in the park, we'd eaten at home more often than we'd eaten out, and when we did go out, it was to informal restaurants. Sometimes he would cook for me and other days I cooked for him. This morning, he'd fed me a feast of sausage links, bacon, scrambled eggs, tattie scones — which I learned were made with potatoes — and black pudding. Only after I'd eaten the pudding did he confide it was made with pig's blood. I recalled gagging at his revelation and smacking his arm. "How could you let me eat that?"
He'd shrugged. "I eat it all the time."
"Yuck." I'd rushed to the kitchen sink to cleanse my tongue with the sprayer. "It's disgusting, Lachlan."
"Sorry." His lip curled with a repressed smirk. "You were wolfing it down until I mentioned the key ingredient."
That was all he'd offered as penance — that and a round of "who comes first" played on the sofa, this time with no interruptions, because he'd switched off his phone. Before the black pudding incident, I'd declined his repeated offers of haggis. A girl must have her limits and sheep stomachs were mine. He assured me most modern Scots made their haggis with synthetic casing instead of stomach, but I still said no thank you. I decided the black pudding was his revenge for my shunning of his country's national dish.
Lachlan shoved my shirt and bra up over my breasts in one swift motion. His lips clamped over my nipple and sucked so hard I cried out. I scraped my nails down his back. Without detaching his mouth from my nipple, he muttered, "Key."
What the hell. I wanted to give it to him anyway, though I couldn't fathom why. A breathless rush of syllables escaped my lips. "Okayfineyes."
Eyes alight, he took my nipple between his teeth and tugged gently, elongating it while his tongue laved the swollen peak. I dug my nails into his scalp. He released my nipple and it popped back. "I'll give you mine too."
I let a slow smile spread over me. "Then I can surprise you."
"Hmm." He feigned concern, lips compressed. "Should I worry? You might steal into my bedroom to massage my… account ledgers."
I slapped his shoulder. "Better be nicer to the woman who gives you the best sex of your life. Especially after you tricked me into eating pig's blood."
"Point taken. Though I really didn't think the black pudding would be a problem." He tore off my sweatpants and panties as one and hurled them to the floor. I writhed when his mouth sealed over my sex. Just as I mounted the heights of ecstasy, about to fly off the cliff, he pulled away. "Is this nice enough?"
"Bastard."
His grin stirred an odd sensation in my chest. Light. Fluttery. Perfect.
"Give me the key," he said, "and I'll be even nicer to you. So nice you'll forgive me for the black pudding debacle."
"There was no debacle."
"You shrieked and punched me."
"I smacked you on the arm. And I did not shriek."
He coiled his tongue around my hardened clit. "Key."
"It's in my house." My sex thrummed with unquenched need, still simmering on high heat. I gestured at my body, attempting nonchalance, though my heavy breathing may have ruined the effort. "I can't go get the key. You've taken away my clothes."
"You've got a key in your pants pocket." He held up a warning finger when I opened my mouth to protest. "And there's a spare under the potted plant beside your back door."
"How do you know about that?"
"Gil told me."
I'd told Gil in case of emergency. So much for neighborly confidentiality. Bending over the bed's edge, I fished my key out of my pants pocket.
Lachlan patted my ass. "I rather like this view."
My breasts dangling, I rolled my eyes at him. He snared me around the waist and hauled me back up to sit facing him. I wagged the key in his face. He reached for it, but I locked my fist around it. "Uh-uh-uh. Yours first, you sneaky Scot."
He yanked open a drawer in the bedside table, nabbed a key, and proffered it to me. When I plucked the key from his open palm, he closed his hand around my wrist. I spread my fingers. He took my key, but his hand still restrained mine.
I tugged. "Let go."
"A kiss first."
"Sure." With my hand locked in his, I scrambled around until I was on my knees, braced with one hand. Then I lowered my head to plant a kiss on his hard shaft. He grumbled something unintelligible.
"What was that?" I cupped my hand over my ear. "Couldn't quite make it out."
"A real kiss."
"Coming right up." I lavished his glistening head with a full-tongue kiss. A strangled noise caught in his throat. He let go of my hand, relinquishing the key.
I dropped onto my elbows, my ass high in the air, and took his shaft deep into my mouth. A gasp broke his groan as I withdrew and circled my tongue around his tip. He grasped my ass in both hands. I thrust in and out, over and over, emboldened by his throaty noises and the way his fingers sank into my backside. My breasts grazed his thighs, shooting electricity through my nipples and straight down to my core. His body went rigid, a sure sign he was about to lose it.
"Erica!" Lachlan cried.
I released his shaft and sat back on my heels. His hands fell away from my ass. I stretched my body, making sure to hoist my breasts before his face. "I could go for some brownies."
He leaned in, his eyes boring into me, his cheeks ruddy with need. "You stopped."
Struggling not to smile, I shrugged one shoulder. "So?"
His chest heaved with each breath. "You're in for it now… Erica."
The way he growled my name sent a hot shudder through me. "Bring it on… Lachlan."
I imbued his name with all the salacious desire I could muster. Never in my life had I tried to sound sexy. But this man made me feel desirable, every second of every moment we spent together.
Lachlan seized my hips and jerked my butt out from under me. I flipped onto the bed flat on my back, with a highly aroused Highlander poised above me. He brushed his nose against mine. "Thank you for the key."
"Ditto."
"I'm already planning my surprise for you." He grabbed a condom from the table. "What have you got in mind for me?"
"Something wicked your way
comes."
"A Shakespearean girl, eh?"
I wrapped my arms around him and held on like the world would fly away if I let go. He slid inside me with aching slowness, his every movement a delicious torment. And that's when I knew I was lost. One more week and then… His voracious mouth stole my thoughts, chasing away the worries for a long, blessed interlude.
* * * * *
For the next three days, I barely saw Lachlan, even at night. He'd stop by to say goodnight, but declined to stay the night — with or without sex. I couldn't help worrying he'd lost interest in me, but when I asked what he was up to, he insisted he had "video calls" to take care of and it had nothing to do with me. He'd cursed and muttered that he didn't "have a bloody clue how to use Skype." His irritation over the calls showed in his tight expression and the tension in his voice, but I kept my questions to myself.
Yeah, I was boiling over with curiosity. Somehow, I contained it — but just.
On the third day, I wandered over to Lachlan's house. The day before, I'd seen him pacing in his living room, arguing with someone only he could see on his laptop screen. Today, I'd decided to surprise him with a visit, whether he liked it or not. Being his fling did not mean he got to take me for granted. But as I lifted my hand to knock on the front door, I heard his voice, loud yet muffled by the door and walls.
"The bitch gets nothing," he hollered. "Nothing. Ye hear me, Rory?"
Ah, it was Rory again — and The Bitch to boot. Who the hell was this woman, that she could get Lachlan so riled up? She must be the reason why he shunned relationships.
Don't go there, I warned myself. You can't save a man who doesn't want to be saved.
I scuttled back to my house without knocking.
The day dragged by, more boring than any day had a right to be. Nothing kept my interest and my thoughts inevitably circled back around to Lachlan, again and again. By evening, after a laborious day of fretting in front of the TV, I shuffled into my bedroom alone. Though I itched to interrogate Lachlan, I reminded myself yet again I'd agreed to no entanglements, which meant his "video calls" were none of my concern.
Casey leaped onto the bed to slop a kiss on my chin. I just dodged a similar smack on the lips by rotating my head at the last second. I hugged the pooch and scratched behind his ears. His tongue lolled, his lips curled in what resembled a smile. I liked to think Casey did smile and it meant he loved me. The dog chuffed.
"I know." I scratched his back. "I wish Lachlan was here too. Maybe we'll see him tomorrow."
With a snuffle and a toss of his head, Casey settled in at the foot of the bed. While I untied my shoelaces, I glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Eight-thirty. The sun had set an hour ago and night drenched the world outside. My little lamp, situated on the table, bathed the room in a soft, bronze-y glow. For the third night in a row, I wouldn't sleep in Lachlan's arms. I'd gotten dangerously accustomed to the warmth and solidity of his body cocooning mine.
I kicked off my tennies. They hit the floor with a thunk-thunk. I missed him. Okay, I could admit that without endangering my heart. Couldn't I?
With that thought bouncing around in my brain, I tore off my clothes and marched straight into the shower. Maybe a good pummeling with hot water would melt away my worries. The steaming water jetted down on my body, hard and powerful, plying my flesh much the way Lachlan's fingers did whenever he massaged my neck and shoulders, or when his hands drifted lower to knead my breasts. Now, alone in my shower, my breasts grew swollen and achy, starved for his touch. No feast tonight.
Visions of Lachlan's delicious muscles flitted through my mind as I rotated under the pelting streams. My hand roamed up to my throat, my fingers teasing the tender flesh there just the way Lachlan would've done with his mouth. He'd kiss my neck, plump my breasts, rumble gràidh in my ear.
Hunger pulsated through me. Gràidh. His voice echoed in my mind, deep and sultry, rife with an intense hunger. I feathered my fingers over my breasts and my nipples shot hard. Liquid heat gathered between my thighs, along with the familiar tingling tension that infused my entire body.
Lachlan. Naked. Our bodies entangled.
I snatched the shower head out of its holder. Switching the lever to the massage setting, I let my head fall back as water pounded into my flesh. I aimed it at my neck to beat out the soreness, but the memory of Lachlan's mouth moved me to lower the shower head to my breasts, where it pounded on my nipples. I gasped at the power of the sensation.
Lachlan. Inside me. Thrusting. His hips pistoning into me, my back bowing, his face wrenched with mind-blowing pleasure. I widened my stance and dipped the shower head until it pummeled my aching sex. Pleasure rocketed through me so hard and fast I slapped my free hand on the wall, whimpering. "Oh shit."
My mind was obsessed with fantasies of rippling muscles as my orgasm blasted through me in wave after euphoric wave, doubling me over, my sex clenching tight but empty inside, my legs quaking from the power of my release. "Lachlan, yes!"
The shower door swung open.
I yelped, dropping the shower head. It clattered to the tile floor. Lachlan's gaze flicked to my hand positioned inches from my sex, down to the discarded shower head, and then gravitated back to my face. Clad in nothing but a condom, he angled his head, those thoroughly lickable lips ticking up at the corners. "Screaming my name, and I haven't even touched you yet."
Heart racing, I fumbled to hook the shower head back in its clip but missed. "W-what are you doing here?"
"Surprising you."
Chapter Twenty
He sauntered into the shower, backing me up to the wall, and raised my hand to hold the shower head at his shoulder level. Hot water drizzled down our bodies, between our bodies, beading on his pecs and spraying up to glimmer on his hair. The shower head slipped from my fingers. Lachlan caught it. "I see ye started without me."
"What happened to your all-important Skype stuff?"
"Hell with it." He grasped my hip with one palm, the shower head clasped in his other hand. "I'd ask what ye were thinking of just now, but ye gave me a good clue when ye shouted my name."
Crap. I ducked my chin to my chest, unable to meet his gaze. Crap, crap, crap.
He brushed his cheek against mine, his evening stubble a sensual roughness on my skin. "Don't be embarrassed. I've climaxed while daydreaming of you too."
I peeked up at him. "Really?"
"Aye."
"I like that." When his thumb glanced over the sweet spot just next to my hip bone, I tipped my head up. His stubble chafed my throat, but it was a blissful friction. "I'm glad you're here."
"Cannae stay away." His Adam's apple jounced against my neck. "I donnae know why, it's never happened to me before. I… missed you."
I lunged my fingers into his hair, reveling in this perfect moment with him, and he made a rough sound deep in his throat. He missed me. My heart soared at the confession. "I missed you too."
Lachlan snapped the shower head into its clip on the wall. "Ye won't be needing this anymore."
He flipped me around, mashed me to wall with his body, and nudged my feet apart. My breaths shallowed, my skin tightened, my every nerve came alive with anticipation. He sneaked one hand in front of me to work my nub, already swollen and slick for him. I rocked into his caress, slapping my palms on the tile wall as the need fired up inside me once again, hotter and harder than before. His fingers pinched my clitoris, arcing pleasure through me like an electrical jolt, rending a loud moan from me.
"I need you, Erica." He rocked his hips back, then drove his shaft deep inside, overwhelming me with the euphoric fullness of him. I threw my head back, a scream caught in my throat. He growled, "Ye've got to be mine, only mine."
Before the meaning of his words could sink in, he slammed into me again and my brain shut down. He pumped with relentless force and speed, I gouged my nails into the tile walls, our sharp breaths reverberated, wet skin slapped against wet skin, and even through the steam and water I scented my own
arousal. His heels smacked on the floor with each powerful thrust of his hips, flattening me against the wall. I balanced on the brink of a climax so intense it would blow away the one I'd achieved on my own. Somehow, through the haze of ecstasy, his words flashed through my mind.
Ye've got to be mine, only mine. He couldn't mean —
"Erica." His chin dropped to my shoulder and words burst out of him, punctuated by grunts. "Ah God, mo leannan, yer so soft and sweet and — och!"
"Don't stop, please."
"I willnae." He pounded harder, faster, a frantic melding of our bodies. "Come fer me now, gràidh."
As if by his command, pleasure erupted inside me, stunning a whimpering scream out of me. "Lachlan, yes!"
The pace of his thrusts quickened even more, his balls slapping on my ass. His release pulsed inside me, his feral cries resonating off the walls. He sagged against my back, his lips on my shoulder. Between pants, he said, "Now that's how you scream my name."
"A shower was supposed to relax me."
He lifted my hand to kiss my palm. "Are you saying I haven't relaxed you?"
"Oh, you sure did. Just not in the way I'd planned." I wriggled around to face him. "We probably scared Casey half to death with our caterwauling."
"Men don't caterwaul. We give masculine shouts of appreciation."
I held his face in my hands and ravaged his mouth with all the passion he'd just incited in me. The afterglow hadn't yet faded and I longed to stay close to him. He kissed me back with an ardor rivaling mine, his hands groping my body. I loved the way he kissed. It melted me from the inside out and branded me with his passion. I'm yours, Lachlan.
We peeled our lips apart. I thanked the universe Lachlan didn't have the power to read my mind. I need you, he'd said. Ye've got to be mine, only mine. He'd spoken those words too, I hadn't imagined them, but did he mean any of it? Or were the declarations fueled by lust? He was leaving in less than a week. Plus, he'd made it clear he wanted no relationships. I had to stop searching for what wasn't there.
Barking erupted in the bedroom.