Obsessed: Wild Mountain Scots, #1

by Vines, Jolie

  * * *

  Over the course of the nearly two months since Lochinvar and Isla had moved next door, the little girl had warmed to me. She still clammed up if accidentally touching on her past, but on the whole, I’d uncovered a sweet if somewhat stubborn child.

  Very much her father’s daughter, though they had no outward similarities.

  I dressed in a hurry and joined her in the living room. “Hungry? It’s early, so we can make something that takes longer. Maybe lasagne from scratch?”

  Isla beamed and nodded, her fair curls bobbing, and she leapt from the couch and followed me into the kitchen. She seemed to enjoy the process of cooking, watching more than contributing, and she took one of the two stools at the island, placing her chin on her hands.

  Normally, I’d chat away, but my brain was mush, my thoughts gone with her da. Instead, I turned on the radio and danced as I fried the mince with onions, garlic, herbs, and three kinds of tomatoes. I had Isla stir the white sauce so it didn’t curdle then help me grate the cheese.

  Without even thinking, I constructed an enormous lasagne, mentally allocating the largest portion to her father.

  Isla declined from helping with the salad, her protective walls rising once more, but dutifully tried all the vegetables when our meal was ready.

  We ate, working through Isla’s spelling homework, then took to the couch. My home wasn’t yet kitted out for a child, and I didn’t have games or books. I didn’t want to sit her in front of the TV all evening, so there was only one thing for it.

  The lion’s den.

  Anticipation swirled in my belly.

  I was beyond curious about this little family. Worse since Lochinvar’s confession. They were so close. He often took Isla with him on weekend hikes, then returned with his tired girl on his shoulder. She didn’t lack for anything, and it was as if they’d always been a unit, not one that missed the mother of the family.

  I wondered if Lochinvar had a picture of his ex-wife anywhere.

  I should mind my own business. Yet the wondering wouldn’t cease.

  “Your da gave me the key to your cottage,” I said. “Would ye like to go there?”

  “Aye!” Isla leapt up.

  I slid my boots on as she buckled up her school shoes.

  “You’re sounding more Scottish.” I ducked into the kitchen to collect the covered plate I’d readied for Lochinvar, then turned to witness Isla scowling.

  “I am Scottish.” She stomped outside and waited while I locked up then moved to open her door. “Just because I never lived here until now.”

  Her statement begged a question, but my lips were sealed.

  We entered the house, and Isla discarded her bag and outerwear then darted down the hall.

  Switching on a lamp, I peered around the living room. This cottage was the bigger of the two. Like mine, it had a wide front room that took up the width of the single-storey house, with the kitchen to the left. I’d seen the place be decorated, and not much had changed. A bookshelf held children’s stories and a few thrillers, but no framed photos perched on top. The coat hooks hosted light jackets and pairs of huge male or tiny female shoes waited underneath.

  I followed Isla and hovered at the end of the bedroom hall. “Are ye okay?”

  “Da says I have to get changed out of my school things when I get home. Can ye help me?”

  I stepped to her door and peered in. Isla was halfway into a fluffy unicorn onesie. The wide hood sported a twisted horn and pink satin ears. The sleeves and legs ended in darker material, mimicking hooves. One of her sleeves was inside out, so I reached to reinstate it.

  “You’re adorable. Did ye know the unicorn is the national animal of Scotland?”

  Isla’s eyes widened. “Do they live here?”

  “Only in myths and legends,” I said. “But we have a unicorn pool at the base of a waterfall. I’ll take ye there one day.”

  “For my birthday?”

  “When’s that?”

  She hesitated, linking her hands behind her back. “In December. Next month.”

  “I’ll talk to your da about it.”

  She gave a little yip of excitement and skipped past me to the lounge.

  But before I left her room, I caught sight of a picture frame by Isla’s bed. A woman smiled out, a much younger Isla in her arms. Without going over to take a closer look, I could only see her grin and compare it to Isla’s. But they were very alike.

  That must be her mother. Presumably the woman was still alive, too, as Lochinvar hadn’t called himself a widower. Only a divorcee.

  God, Isla must miss her.

  In the lounge, Isla had set up a game for us to play on the rug.

  My heart swelled with affection. As much as I felt a pull towards Lochinvar, the same applied to his daughter. I knew they weren’t staying past the length of his contract. Uncle Gordain would return by the end of February and take his job back. I couldn’t imagine alpha male Lochinvar accepting a lower position.

  They’d leave for certain.

  That set the terms for how I saw the Ross family.

  I could be a friend to Isla in that time. Maybe something different with her father. But only short-lived.

  Fine. Boundary set.

  The evening drew on, darkness falling. The fog lifted to drizzle, yet Lochinvar still didn’t appear. I braided Isla’s bountiful blonde curls then dozed on the couch with her. Ideally, she should’ve gone to bed, but she begged to wait up to see her father.

  The snick of the door woke me with a start. The TV had frozen on an ‘Are you still watching?’ screen, and Isla snored, fast asleep, snuggled close.

  Lochinvar stood over us, his features barely visible in the shadowed room.

  Electricity danced over my skin.

  He made a low sound, then slid his arms under Isla, his cold knuckles running across my arm. In a fluid motion, he lifted her to his chest, murmuring something soft as she stirred, then he carried her from the room.

  I sat up, my pulse skittering. Did I leave? Staying felt…dangerous.

  But I was no coward.

  After a minute, the huge man reappeared. Without lighting the lamp, he took a seat at the other end of the sofa from me. The scent of him, of cool, fresh mountain air, spread my way.

  “How did it go?” My voice came out timid. Not like me at all.

  Lochinvar studied me. “Good. Four souls saved. Are ye pregnant?”

  I blinked at the change in topic. “Why did ye think that?”

  “Isla said.”

  I pieced together conversations we’d had. God, that must’ve been from when I’d told Casey and Brodie about my baby plans. “No. I’m not.”

  His eyes gleamed.

  Though he didn’t move, confusion and apprehension grabbed me, tightening my throat. I’d been in the position before when a man had been so obviously about to make a move on me. I hated the nervous awareness. The expectation the moment set.

  The undoubted failure on my behalf to make it work.

  “I’m going to have a baby with fertility treatment,” I added fast. “Donor sperm.”

  Lochinvar tilted his head. “Ye dinna want a man?”

  “Never been interested before.”

  The statement fell between us, loaded with meaning.

  “Before me.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Are ye a virgin?” he asked, his tone not one of teasing or accusation, but of gentle interest.

  “No. I tried sex at university.”

  “But ye didn’t enjoy it,” he stated. “Or more likely those ye experimented with were clueless.”

  Sweat broke out on my brow, but I didn’t need to confirm his words.

  Lochinvar pressed on. “What’s different about me?”

  “You’re rougher. Wilder.”

  His analysis continued. “Did this start with me chopping the wood or before?”

  “The wood. The axe.”

  “Ye like that harder side. The violence.”
<
br />   Again, not a question. I slowly nodded anyway, then gave up my truth. “I have a fantasy of ye. It’s dark.”

  “I can let my tastes run dark, if ye want.”

  I shivered at the promise. “It’s of ye pursuing me.”

  The admittance smarted. I was giving him power over me. Power he could use to humiliate me or reject me.

  Lochinvar paused, considering this, then placed a hand on the sofa back and leaned in. He was so big, so broad.

  My skin zinged in awareness.

  Fear sprang, loading my muscles.

  Fuck, he was going to kiss me. I wasn’t ready. Didn’t want this.

  He brought his mouth close to my ear. “Get up.”

  “What?”

  “Go to the door.”

  I obeyed, my frightened soul needing direction. I stepped into my shoes, no clue what was happening.

  Lochinvar stalked over and grasped my waist. He manhandled my stiff body out of the way, then unlocked the door, opening it. With a finger, he pointed outside into the frigid night.

  He…kicked me out?

  “What…?” I stammered.

  “Run, Cait.”

  What the hell was he doing? And why was this working? I skipped backwards. Lochinvar took a long tread after me, his jaw clenched tight.

  Those black eyes glittered.

  I was looking at a predator. A threat. A dangerous animal.

  Excited, I turned and bolted. My pulse skyrocketed, and I flew over the ground. Every sense trained on the danger at my back. My spine tingled, fear merging with a different state. This was nothing like the emotion I’d felt in that hall at work. No, this was…exhilarating.

  I reached the cars when a heavy arm caught me.

  A helpless sound burst from my throat, and Lochinvar spun me around. He gripped my biceps so I couldn’t escape and pushed me against his vehicle. Only his hand stopped me from banging my head on the metal.

  With his huge frame, he caged me in, eclipsing the night.

  I panted, every place we touched blazing to life with sensation. All fresh. All real and vital.

  I struggled in vain.

  Then Lochinvar crashed his lips onto my neck.

  I opened my mouth in pure shock. The energy behind his almost-kiss-almost-bite bruised me, his beard abrading my skin. But the pain was nothing to the splintering joy.

  I tried to move his lips to mine, but he didn’t budge. All I could do was receive. His mouth slid to under my ear then to my collarbone, his teeth testing my flesh.

  Lochinvar’s leg forced its way between mine so I rode his thigh, my feet barely on the ground. A burst of sexual feeling spread from my core. I writhed to chase it, though barely able to move from the position he’d caught me in.

  Then he dropped me.

  Lochinvar stepped back, breathing hard. I staggered, nearly falling, and my chest rose and fell where I couldn’t pull in enough air.

  Neither of us spoke, but the dark light in his eyes only intensified.

  Lochinvar gave a snort that sounded like satisfaction, then he turned and strode to his cottage. His door slammed, and I was left alone.

  The night air cooled my ardour, and I stared, seeing nothing.

  It hadn’t been a real kiss, nor gentle and sweet.

  What the hell was it? And why did I only want more?

  11

  Lochinvar

  At the window, I watched Cait until she got herself together and returned to her home, closing herself safely inside.

  In all my thirty years, I’d never experienced anything like I had in that moment.

  Never been so rough.

  So in need of dominating a woman.

  Fuck, but I liked it.

  Loved knowing I’d turned her on when no one else could.

  My hard-as-nails cock agreed.

  Yet I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I had to protect myself, too—why I hadn’t kissed her sweet mouth. It would be too easy for me to barrel ahead with this and get burned.

  I locked myself in the bathroom and started up the shower. Under the hot water, I took my cock in hand and braced an arm to the tiles. Lust surged with every stroke. In my head, I fucked into Cait’s tight body, the woman wet and willing beneath me.

  She’d want me to be hard on her, giving her the wild mountain man experience she’d imagined. The version of me that turned her on.

  The way no other man had.

  Ah God, that fucked with my head.

  It had been too long.

  “Fuck,” I gritted out, as muted as I could make it.

  A minute more of fucking my hand, then my balls tightened and I came.

  Spent, I let the water spray down on me, washing my moment of madness away.

  Not that it had made a dent in my need for Cait. No, that burned ever stronger.

  “Aye, lass,” I murmured. “Ball’s in your court.”

  Like for any other hunter, it was a waiting game from now on.

  12

  Cait

  It took days for my self-assurance to return. I read articles on attraction and kinks. I might be submissive, I considered. Needing my partner to call the shots.

  That didn’t seem quite right. Lochinvar made no further moves on me, though interest came off him in waves. So it was on me to push for more, and I intended to. Not so submissive of me.

  I concocted a plan. An extension of my fantasy.

  I just needed to get the nerve to ask him for it.

  On Friday morning, he delivered Isla to school then returned home, taking a phone call in his car outside the cottages. Unlike the previous week, a sunny day had dawned, though with an underlying icy chill.

  I wanted to go for a run.

  Or a chase.

  In my mind, Lochinvar would catch me and force me to the ground. We’d have sex, then, once he’d blown my mind, he’d let me go. Not that I’d be truly trapped.

  I breathed through my nose, turned on, yet unable to frame a way to ask him to pursue me. Instead, I dressed in my running kit and stepped outside.

  A moment of waiting then Lochinvar climbed out of his 4X4. He cast his gaze down my body, lingering on my curves encased in the tight-fitting material.

  “Going somewhere?”

  “For a run.”

  “Where?” he demanded.

  “Into the forest. Do ye have anywhere ye need to be?” My heart pounded.

  Lochinvar’s stare intensified. I didn’t budge.

  Then he stormed inside his home, the door left ajar.

  I waited for a beat then took off, my trainers crunching the died-back undergrowth as I rounded the low wall to the forest behind my home. An animal track made my path, and I dragged in a lungful of clean air.

  This had been my running route for years. Few others came out this way, the view obscured by the thick trees.

  The perfect place for an ambush.

  And I was certain Lochinvar would follow.

  A crack of branches snapping quickened my already racing pulse.

  I put power into my legs, flying up the hill and onto a flatter track. The scent of pine rose from where I crushed dense piles of fallen needles under my feet. Woodland animals scurried from my path.

  A glance over my shoulder revealed a shadowed figure in pursuit. A big, dark man.

  Fuck. He’d come.

  My breathing stuttered, but I pressed on, jogging faster. My hunter sped up. The distance between us slimmed.

  That same thrill of the chase blazed through me.

  Ahead, a stand of evergreens waited, exactly where I knew it would be. I left the path and plunged inside the thick lower branches to a small, hidden clearing.

  At almost the same second, a hand gripped my trailing wrist.

  “Ah!” I squeaked and stumbled.

  I hit the soft ground.

  Lochinvar fell on top of me, dropping on his hands and knees over my body. For a second, he did nothing but check my expression.

  Then he took my throat in a
light hold. His other hand coasted to my waist, and without ceremony, he yanked down my running shorts.

  I slammed my eyes closed, entirely overwhelmed. In lust, fear, and a myriad of other emotions.

  Lochinvar stripped my shorts to my ankles and forced apart my knees.

  Without a word or further pause, his mouth landed on the juncture of my legs.

  Heat blitzed through me. I yelped, and he moved his fingers from my throat to cover my mouth. Silenced, I squirmed under his heavy form.

  Lochinvar gave me no half-measure. He licked then sucked on my sensitive clit. An animal sound ripped out of him, and he hoisted my hips then drove his tongue inside me.

  Blooms of warmth spread in my veins, despite the icy day. The forest, the sounds of nature, it all paled to the background, and all I could feel was him. Nothing I’d ever done to myself felt this good. No one had ever touched me with the same reaction.

  My breasts grew heavier in my sports bra. My muscles heated, tensed to the point of hurting.

  Then he pushed a finger inside me, adding a second.

  Some magic place exploded with feeling. I bit on the hand over my mouth.

  Lochinvar pumped in and out of me.

  Oh God. Oh Christ.

  If I cursed out loud, I had no clue. Only the rushing of my own blood filled my ears.

  He continued sucking, using his whole mouth to assault my private area. Each hit inside touched a blissful patch of flesh. My body supplied a rush of delicious chemicals far greater than ever before on my solo adventures.

  I struggled. He held me harder.

  Then inside, I tightened.

  Lochinvar made a deep sound of need.

  Somehow, this was the trigger. I whimpered then surged, arched my back, pushing against Lochinvar’s intrusions.

  And came.

  I splintered into pieces, a mess of nothing but powerful, orgasmic waves. They broke over my mind, and I swam in sheer heaven.

  Distantly, I was aware of Lochinvar working me through it. He swore, his tone utterly awed and delicious. The pressure of him pinning me down released. I was spent. Boneless. Unable to crack an eye.

  In minutes, he’d done what took me an hour alone, though I’d never once reached the same heights.

  But then I returned to myself. Suddenly cold, I scuttled up, drawing my shorts over my nakedness.