Ten Days with the Highlander (Love Abroad)

by Manning, Hayson

  And there was the kicker. Deep down in his bones, he knew she belonged here. That she’d found her home. She chatted to the locals as if she’d lived here most of her life. He’d catch her watching him when she thought he didn’t see, her bottom lip snagged between her teeth in a way that turned him on, a blush highlighting her cheeks, the lazy way she dragged her eyes across him. But not always in a sexual way. He’d catch her staring at him, a shy smile on her face like she’d discovered how the universe was born.

  He called last drinks and the pub emptied out, leaving him, Georgia, Hamish, and Ainsley.

  “Can’t she see the way he looks at her?” Georgia stood by the front door, pulling on her jacket and jamming what had been Callum’s beanie on her head, but now he could only picture Georgia wearing it.

  “Sometimes people are a bit slow in seeing what’s in front of them.” He pulled her into his side, and locked the front door.

  Damn, it was pouring. Even in jackets, they’d get soaked.

  “I’ll run back and get the Jeep. Wait here.”

  “Nope.” She grabbed his hand and headed out into the weather bomb. Icy water found gaps between his jacket and sweater.

  Shit.

  Georgia skidded over the wet pavement. He tightened his grip on her hand. They finally arrived back at the hotel.

  “I’ve never been so cold, or wet,” Georgia said between chattering teeth.

  Her lips had a blue tinge. His face bled of color. He rubbed her cold hands. He cursed her coat for being short and meant for a walk in a park. In a pinch it could keep out a puff of wind, but it wasn’t designed for Scottish rain. He shrugged off his jacket and threw both their coats on a hook.

  He pulled her up the stairs, the chattering of her teeth louder. “Grab a hot shower while I make the fire in your room.”

  He balled up newspaper to lay in the grate and tried not to listen to the water that would soon be running over what he knew would be the softest skin. The moaning in the pipes intensified. He really had to put the boiler and the pipes next up on the renovation. He was not going to think of a naked Georgia, feet from him, so he forced himself to revisit his plans for the renovations.

  “Callum?”

  Already? He turned and dropped the kindling he’d been holding.

  Georgia stood in the doorway, clutching a towel to her body.

  “There’s no hot water.”

  He cursed.

  They stared at each other.

  He took a step toward her. She took a step toward him.

  “Are you still cold?” He reached out and wrapped her hair around his finger. “I could go and make you a cup of tea.”

  “Don’t you dare,” she whispered.

  Callum dragged her into his arms and kissed the hell out of her. Her arms wound around his neck, and he thought he heard her sigh. Needing more, he walked them toward the bed and yanked the quilt back. She fell back onto the soft mattress and he landed on top of her, his elbows on either side of her head. Mouth brushing his, her soft breath pillowing against his cheek, she arched up into him. Her heat, her scent, her everything slammed into him.

  “You have far too many clothes on.” She pulled at his shirt, and he grinned at her irritated groan and obliged. Before the fabric had even hit the floor, her hands roamed over his shoulders, across his back, down his stomach—which clenched at her touch—both inquiring and demanding, the all-important question in her fingertips.

  He nodded.

  The belt of his jeans was undone, followed by the zipper. He kept still, letting her lead, while his insides crunched into a mass of quivering need to slam his mouth down on hers, and tell her with his body where she belonged.

  He growled when her hand skimmed the waistband of his briefs.

  Enough.

  He was not going to turn into a sixteen-year-old.

  He stood, ripped off his jeans, briefs, and socks, and joined her on the bed.

  “Wow,” she whispered, taking him in everywhere.

  He tugged at the towel, and her gorgeous curves, beautiful breasts, and slightly rounded stomach covered in golden, tanned skin lit him on fire. Her faint bikini lines blasted the last bit of logic from his brain.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  You’re mine.

  Her fingers twisted in his hair. She pulled him down for a kiss.

  My turn.

  He covered her with his body and kissed a line from the column of her neck to the pulse beating at the base of her neck. He kissed a slow line down her cleavage, flicking his tongue against her hard nipple, then drew it sharply into his mouth.

  Her hands fisted the quilt. “Do that again.”

  He smiled against her heated skin and obliged, taking his time, savoring each delicious breast until Georgia writhed underneath him, panting, twisting, her fingers digging into his shoulders then digging into his hair.

  “I’m going to come,” she pleaded. “And you’re only at my breasts.”

  He smiled against her stomach as he made his way down her body, worshiping her curves, pressing hard kisses and nips on her hips, then soft kisses against her belly. Her muscles trembled under his touch.

  He nudged her legs apart and kissed his way up her thighs until she bucked underneath him. The need to taste her was overwhelming. With a growl, he pressed his hand to her stomach to keep her still, then buried his head between her legs.

  The first kiss to her clit was a gentle reminder of what was to come. The second was harder, then soft, over and over until she begged him. The third kiss was hard. He sucked her clit into his mouth, at the same time plunging a finger into her, stroking higher to find her spot. She stilled then gasped.

  Found it.

  “Oh, Jesus, Callum, do that again, please,” she begged.

  He read her body, quivering and lurching. He worked her clit and stroked high until her back arched off the bed, her thighs a vise around his head. She tipped over the edge, her body convulsing around him.

  God, she’s everything I’ve ever hoped for.

  Wild-eyed, shocked, primitive, then that small smile. Her legs fell open and her hands gripped his shoulders. “God, I need you, so badly, so very badly.”

  Callum felt the same way.

  He nudged her opening and groaned. Jesus, she was tight. He fought the need to plunge in, but instead he inched in, waiting as her body stretched to accommodate him.

  A spasm flickered across her face and she whimpered.

  He went to pull out, but her hand on his ass stopped him.

  “No, no,” she breathed. “It’s been a long time, that’s all.”

  He pressed a reverent kiss to her lips and continued to ease into her until he was engulfed in her tight heat. At her gasp, his cock swelled farther.

  Her hips started to rock underneath him, slowly, a gentle testing of her body that grew stronger. “You feel incredible,” she groaned.

  He angled his hand underneath her ass, drawing her hips higher, and thrust deeper. Sweat slicked his body, but he held on to that tiny thread of resistance. Her broken voice crying out his name hit him straight in the balls, which were already pinched tight.

  He could feel her orgasm building deep in her body, her stomach quivering, her legs shaking, her head thrown left then right. Her nails made a roadmap on his shoulders, his back, his ass. She was close. Time to push her over the edge.

  “Look at me,” he growled.

  Her eyes popped open.

  He drove harder and deeper and watched as her cheeks flushed, her spine lifted, and a deep moan tore from her. Unable to hold off, he drove into her sweet body one last time, until he was spent, his forehead resting on hers.

  “I can’t move,” she whispered. “My bones have melted.”

  “I’ve got you.” He pushed her hair from her face and swept it over her shoulder.

  With a sweet little sigh, she snuggled in close, and his cock surged back to life, definitely up for another round.

  That had never happened befo
re, not that fast.

  Everything about this woman was slowly undoing him, one screw at a time. And now he’d seen the way she rocked into him with lust and want in her eyes, her head thrown back, abandoning herself to pleasure, abandoning herself to him…

  He could spend the next week, the next month, the next year in bed with Georgia Paxton, wrapped up in sheets, their bodies captive. They’d sneak down to the kitchen for food and to feed Delilah, then they’d hoof it back upstairs where he’d start mapping Georgia with kisses, worshipping her until he didn’t know where he started and she ended. He wanted to be wrapped up in her, and her in him.

  “You want me to stay the night?” He’d have a hard time walking away after having her curled into his body, her head on his shoulder, her hair a magnificent blanket across his chest. The scent of her swamped his senses.

  She kissed his jaw. “Yeah, because in the morning we’re going to do that again.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Georgia fumbled for her phone as “Afternoon Delight” blared.

  “Interesting choice of wake-up song.” Callum kissed her shoulder, reached around her and somehow found her phone in the dark, then passed it to her. She silenced the alarm and the world dropped back to silence.

  She pressed closer to Callum, his heat surrounding her like a toasty furnace. “It’s a joke between Indiana and me. After they had an argument, Mom or Dad would play it. Then they’d stop the car, disappear for about fifteen minutes, then come back with smiles on their faces, adjusting their clothing. We figured it was their happy song. If either of them was in a bad mood, we’d put the song on. It wasn’t until we were older that we understood the lyrics and why they came back looking happy.” She shook her head and smiled. “Can you imagine? We actually put the song on for them. ‘Hey, Mom, Dad, I think there’s a tree that should just about hide you. The countdown is on. T-minus fifteen minutes.’”

  Funny, I’ve never shared that before.

  He chuckled in the darkness. “I love waking up to your alarm, but I love waking up to something else more.”

  “Oh? And what would that be?”

  “You.”

  Her heart did a complicated squeeze. He placed moan-worthy kisses across her chest, and moan she did. If he did that nipple thing, she’d explode. Actually explode. Her breasts would be blasted into orbit, and she wouldn’t care.

  “It’s my turn,” she said, not bothering to clear the huskiness from her voice.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” She pushed him so he was flat on his back. Her gaze roamed over the hard planes, the stacked muscles, the perfect symmetry of cords, muscles, veins, all held in place by smooth skin. “Oh, yeah,” she murmured.

  She crawled down his body, taking her time, memorizing places where his muscles twitched like she’d delivered an electric shock. She stroked her tongue across his abs, then looked up into his dark, hooded eyes.

  “Did I ever tell you I learned barrel racing?” She kissed her way across his hard stomach, and he hissed out a breath. “I can ride, really ride. Once my thighs are clamped, no amount of bucking is going to get me off.”

  He swallowed and made a strange sound in his throat. “You need help getting off?”

  “There’s a secret trick.” She winked at him. “Want me to show you?”

  His eyes blazed. “Aye.”

  She’d been wet before, but with the look in his eye, his cock lying so hard against his flat stomach, twitching when she kissed the head, she was now drenched.

  “It goes like this.” On her knees, she took her time until she was filled with his glorious length. She moaned when he hit a spot that made her jerk, the sensation exquisite. Her right hand slipped between them until she found her clit and started circling. “Where was I? Oh, that’s right, the story of the modern girl who knows what she wants.”

  “Fuck,” he growled, his gaze between her legs. She increased the pressure on her throbbing clit. His hands rested on her breasts, pinching then soothing her nipples, sending her into meltdown. She started to ride, slow at first. His hands now rested on her hips, gripping her lightly. He thrust up unexpectedly, and she groaned, or whimpered, or screamed. Again, he rocked into her as she found her rhythm and met him halfway. Their bodies clashing, the pressure built. Her fingers rolled faster on the aching bundle of nerves.

  Her back arched, her limbs fell apart, and so did she.

  “Oh, God.” She collapsed on his chest, a wrung-out bunch of wilted bones and sucked-dry muscle.

  A shudder passed through him. The only sound in the room was their ragged breathing.

  “Wow,” she said, sliding off him utterly spent, her heart still beating like she’d won a marathon.

  “Yeah.” He smoothed back her hair and tucked her head into his shoulder.

  She drew circles on his chest, his skin so soft and smooth, holding in the powerhouse of muscle. “It shouldn’t be that amazing.”

  I could stay here forever.

  “You know how to make a man feel good, Georgia, really good.” He stroked his hand down the back of her head and sifted his fingers through her hair.

  She let herself get lost in the sensation of his hands in her hair and the impact of his words that pulled at her heart. Everything was so easy around Callum. “It’s usually awkward the first time. A few, ‘too rough,’ ‘As much as I love your tongue, I don’t think it goes there,’ ‘Whoa, back up, wrong door.’”

  He chuckled.

  Turning onto her side, she smooshed herself against him. His hand splayed on the small of her back, keeping her pressed close.

  She swallowed slowly, fighting an emotional bubble in her chest.

  It had been a long time. She wasn’t into one-night stands, and she bailed before she got attached, but this had felt different.

  Magical.

  Perfect.

  Like it was meant to be.

  Two bodies joined in symmetry, both understanding what the other wanted and needed at the right time. She couldn’t fight the gooey smile on her face.

  Shit.

  Cold water rained on her parade.

  She shouldn’t be feeling any of those emotions. She should be getting out of bed and finding a way to convince him to sign over his gorgeous hotel so she could get out of town.

  Buckets of cold water rained on her parade.

  Damn.

  As if he could sense her sudden panic, Callum kissed her until she floated on a cloud of bliss.

  “How does your tongue, your mouth, your beard make me float?”

  “It’s easy with you,” he said, echoing her thoughts. He traced her jaw with his finger, leaving a path of warmth across her face. “I could get lost in your eyes.”

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then moved back to regard her. “Right now, they’re the color of a new leaf, soft and light. When you laugh, they’re the color of that jade sweater you wear. When you’re angry, they darken like a stormy sea.” He lifted a lock of damp hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “They’re every shade of green.”

  A cloud of emotion bloomed in her chest, and pushed up her throat. She couldn’t lock it away. She sucked back tears that were not making an entrance. She turned her head, but he gently cupped her jaw until she stared at him.

  “Hey,” he said gently. “Are you okay?”

  “That’s beautiful.” No one had ever said anything so moving to her before. Belonging, being held like he wouldn’t let her go, looking at her with soft possessiveness in his eyes… She buried her face in his neck, inhaling his Callum scent, and held on to emotions that had never rushed at her all at once before.

  “Tha thu bòidheach.” He kissed her head. “You are beautiful.”

  “Oh, that’s what it means.” Her voice wobbled.

  “Aye, and you are.”

  The daydream she had as a teen wandered into her head and pressed play. She’d meet a gorgeous man who’d sweep her off her feet. They’d live in a house by the beach somewhere.


  That man now had beautiful brown eyes, a scruffy beard, and a smile that warmed her in a way she’d never been warm, or she feared would ever be again.

  Living that life had been her dream for a long time, but reality—that ever-present bitch—reminded her that she’d tried to stick around. God, how she’d tried. She’d wanted to stay with Grace in San Diego. Her best friend had begged her not to go, but Georgia had been on the highway within a day of graduation. The following year, she’d tried even harder to stay with Indy. Who couldn’t stay with a sister they loved more than anyone?

  Georgia, that’s who.

  The claustrophobic feeling of being tied down had kicked in, as it always did.

  “Georgia?”

  Time to get away from these weird feelings and emotions that didn’t belong. There’d be time to analyze them later. “I think it’s time for coffee.”

  He groaned. “Why? We don’t have to be anywhere for a while.”

  Because I can’t stay, but for the first time in a very long time, I think I want to.

  She went to move, but Callum pinned her, his nose pressed to hers.

  “What’s bothering you?”

  “Nothing,” she lied. “I just have a big day ahead of me, and I need coffee.” She rolled away and sat on the edge of the bed. “Do you think there’s hot water?”

  He climbed to his feet, grabbed her hand, and pulled her toward the shower. “One way to find out.”

  Georgia arrived downstairs after being thoroughly washed by Callum. Before the hot water had run out, he’d bent Georgia over, and taken her until she was plastered against the tiles and calling for her savior.

  Half an hour later, her body still buzzed with pleasure, which turned out to be great for distracting a girl from thoughts she had no business thinking. Like how nice it’d feel to stay.

  Stop it!

  The back door slammed, bringing with it a hot Scot and a cold wind. She shivered and handed Callum his cup of coffee.

  “Mmm. I thought you didn’t know how to master the beast?”

  She took a sip to hide the smile that always snuck out when Callum was around. “Oh, I tamed the beast ages ago. I just like your lessons.”

  He grinned. “Anytime you want lessons, let me know.”