Insatiable in a Kilt (Hot Scots Book 6)

by Anna Durand

  He lifted one shoulder, then stretched again and sighed. "Tell me what you want me to feed you and I'll make it for you."

  "You cook?" The realization distracted me from the issue of his nakedness on full display for the residents of Inverness to enjoy.

  "I cook, yes. Don't look so surprised."

  "Can't help it. I imagined a billionaire would have servants tending to his every need."

  "Where's the fun in that?" In one big stride, he closed the gap between us and sandwiched me between his body and the window. "You know from personal experience I'm a hands-on man."

  "That you are." I roved my hands up his torso to his chiseled pecs. "I love it when your hands are on me."

  "Stay another week and I'll make sure to lay hands on you several times a day."

  "We've been through this. I can't stay." I sucked in a breath when his cock jerked, stiffening against my belly. "My flight leaves in two hours. We don't have time for sex."

  "Ah, but we do." He planted his hands on the windows at either side of my shoulders, pressing his entire body into mine. "If you let me fly you home on my jet."

  "No, Evan. Commercial is good enough for me."

  He rolled his hips, and his hard shaft rubbed against me. "I need you one more time, Keely. Miss that flight and take my jet."

  My body had a mind of its own. My arms encircled him, my leg hooked around his, and my hips rocked forward as if seeking his erection.

  One more time. To say goodbye.

  My gaze flitted to the window behind me. "We can't do it here."

  He pulled back a few inches. "Be wild, Keely. Let me fuck you up against these windows where anyone might see."

  That husky request dissolved my willpower. I unhooked the two buttons I'd done up on the shirt I'd stolen from him, letting it fall open. "Let's do it."

  Those silvery blue eyes zeroed in on my chest. "Christ, you have the bonniest breasts I've ever seen." He cupped my tits in his hands, flicking his thumbs over the peaks. "I love your body."

  At least he hadn't claimed he loved me. We hadn't known each other long enough for me to believe it if he'd said those words. Not that I wanted to hear them. "I love you" meant nothing if he spoke the words just to make me stay.

  Telling me he loved my body on the other hand...I didn't mind that at all.

  "Love your body too," I said, moaning when he captured one nipple and scraped his tongue over it. He bent his knees until his face aligned with my groin. I grasped his chin to make him look up at me. "Enough foreplay. I'm ready, and I've got a plane to catch."

  "Ye'll be taking mah jet."

  "No, Evan. I'll be taking---unh." I couldn't produce any coherent sounds, not with his face planted between my thighs and his tongue forging between my folds to lap at my nub. I braced one foot flat on the window and turned my knee to the side, opening myself to him. "What was I saying?"

  He chuckled against my flesh. "Nothing important."

  No more talking. No more complaining. I let my head fall back against the window and grasped his head with both hands. My hips undulated while he licked and nibbled and sucked on my flesh. His hands gripped my buttocks. My breathing became erratic, and I slapped my palms on the window like I might glue myself to the surface to keep from flying away when I hit that blissful climax, the one that burned and tingled and tightened inside my body.

  At the instant I came, he sprang up and dived two fingers into the breast pocket of the shirt that sort of covered me. He yanked out a condom.

  My chest heaving, I glanced at the little packet. "Didn't notice that in there."

  "Yer a randy lass," he purred. "Need one on hand at all times."

  He ripped the packet open and covered himself. "Ahmno done with ye."

  "More, please, yes."

  Grinning like a predator who'd spotted his unsuspecting prey, he thrust into me in one long, smooth stroke. I gasped. He wasted no time on fondling my breasts or kissing me. No, he grasped my ass and pushed deeper inside me, setting a hard and fast pace that plastered me to the cool glass. In the back of my mind, I wondered if we could break this window with our passion. He shifted his hands down to clasp my thighs, lifting them, and I obediently locked my ankles behind his muscular glutes.

  I was having sex in front of a window, on public display above the street and the river.

  The idea of someone seeing us made me so slick I felt the moisture dribbling down my inner thighs. The orgasm I'd experienced a moment ago hadn't finished. It ramped up again, shuddering through me while my body milked his cock. I moaned and gasped his name, flung my arms around his neck, bucked my hips into every one of his thrusts, lost myself to the mind-shattering pleasure of this man inside me and this moment that I wished could go on forever.

  He punched into me once more and let out a long, deep groan of pure satisfaction. His breaths gusted into my hair.

  I unwound my legs from him and slid down his body until my feet touched the floor. "You sure know how to say goodbye."

  "Not saying it yet." He peered over my shoulder at the view beyond the glass. "Look, a group of schoolchildren is down there watching us through telescopes."

  I smacked his cheek without any real punch. "Not funny."

  He assumed a grave expression. "I think we may have scarred them for life."

  "Please tell me there aren't actually any children down there."

  He kept up the seriousness with such conviction I almost started to believe him, until he grinned. "I'm having you on. No traumatized children, I promise."

  "Asshole." I smacked his cheek again, though both the action and my words lacked any force.

  "You're in Scotland. Say 'ersehole.' And then I'll slap your lovely erse."

  I clamped my lips between my teeth.

  "Since you won't make your flight on time anyway..." He swept me up in his arms. "Let's have a shower."

  We did get into the shower with the water running, but we did not bathe. After that, we made inventive use of the vanity before we headed to the kitchen, having more fun there while Evan cooked me a delicious breakfast of omelets stuffed with veggies and sausage with toast on the side. He brewed up the tastiest coffee I'd ever had, observing with amused interest as I poured so much cream into the coffee that it barely looked beige anymore and then dumped in four spoonfuls of sugar.

  "Are you sure you like coffee?" he asked. "Maybe I should give you a mug of cream and sugar instead."

  He drank his coffee black of course.

  I was missing my airline flight, and I didn't care.

  With one quick call, Evan arranged for his jet to ferry me home. Naturally, he tried to talk his way into accompanying me---talked, kissed, and fondled in fact---but I summoned what little willpower he hadn't already crumbled to dust and refused his offer. The fact that I wanted him to come along dismayed me less than it should have.

  At the airport, he walked with me to the stairs hooked up to the jet.

  I stopped at the bottom of the steps. "Nice plane. How much does one of these go for?"

  Though I hadn't meant for him to tell me, he did. "About fifty million pounds."

  "Fifty million? How much is that in American dollars?"

  He opened his mouth to answer.

  I raised a hand up to stop him. "Never mind, pretty sure I don't want to know."

  "This is a GulfStream G650ER," he said as if I cared about the brand and model. "It has all the amenities you could want or need. You will be much more comfortable traveling this way than on an airliner, and you'll get home faster."

  "Does it have a swimming pool?"

  "Afraid not." He trailed a finger down my jaw. "Are you sure I can't change your mind about letting me escort you home?"

  "I'm sure, but thanks for the offer." I scrutinized the jet, suddenly uncomfortable with accepting a ride on his plane. I'd told him I wouldn't accept charity because I didn't want to be beholden to him. Did appropriating his jet count as charit
y?

  He bowed his head, scratching the back of it. "Would you stay if you had a job here?"

  "I don't know. Since I don't have a job in Scotland, it doesn't matter."

  He straightened and lifted his chin, assuming his CEO stance. "I'm offering you the position of vice president at Evanescent Security Technologies Limited."

  The man must've been kidding, right? He wouldn't offer me a job solely to keep me within screwing distance. And he couldn't have feelings for me.

  "You have a vice president," I reminded him. "His name is Stewart Atkins. I met him."

  "I know who Stewart is. You would be vice president of client management."

  A bewildered laugh bubbled out of me. "Have you ever had a vice president of client management before?"

  "This would be a new position."

  My laughter died. "Evan, you can't do that. Creating a job for me is weird. And how do you think your other employees will feel about it? The assistant manager of an electronics store in Nowhere, Utah, who has zero qualifications becomes a vice president."

  "Donnae care what they think. It's my company."

  I flapped my arms. "Come on, Evan. Can't you see what a horrible idea this is? You might as well call me the vice president in charge of screwing the CEO."

  He pursed his lips, then scrubbed a hand over his face. "I suppose you're right."

  For the first time, I realized how badly he wanted me to stay. Flattering as that was, I couldn't give him what he wanted.

  "Let's say goodbye," I told him, "and end this on a positive note. I've enjoyed spending time with you, and you've made my first trip to Scotland a very memorable one. Thank you, Evan."

  He took my face in both his hands, fixing his earnest gaze on me. "I don't want to say goodbye."

  "You have to. We have to."

  "I know." He touched his lips to mine, holding the contact for so long I began to think he would refuse to let me go by holding onto my face forever. When he finally broke the contact, he gazed at me with a solemnity that tugged at my heart. "Goodbye, Keely."

  "Goodbye, Evan."

  I slogged up the stairs into the jet, and the pilot shut the door.

  Numbness overtook me as I shambled through the cabin. Though I noticed the furnishings, none of it impressed me the way it might have under different circumstances. The floor was carpeted, and a big-screen TV occupied a prime spot along one wall facing a long sofa on the opposite side. Beyond that, leather chairs offered more seating. I flopped onto the sofa, stretching out on my back.

  Goodbye, Evan.

  Did I miss him already? No, that was crazy.

  The flight home took half the time it had on a commercial airliner. Though six and a half hours had elapsed, I arrived before I had left Inverness thanks to the seven-hour time difference. This meant I walked into the house at eleven a.m. feeling like it should be dinnertime. The jet lag hadn't caught up to me in Scotland, what with a sexy Highlander occupying my time and keeping me awake and energized with hot sex and scintillating conversation. The second I stepped into the house, weariness engulfed me.

  My father rolled into the entryway, stopping his wheelchair a couple of yards away. He smiled with an enthusiasm I couldn't match. "Keely, you're home. We weren't expecting you for a while yet." Confusion deepened the wrinkles on his forehead. "Did your flight leave early? I've never heard of airlines doing that before."

  "Uh, no." I set my bags beside the door and shut it. "Evan MacTaggart lent me his private jet."

  "You mean like a little Cessna?"

  "Not a turboprop, Dad. A jet. One that cost fifty million pounds."

  He whistled. "Fifty million. How much is that in American money?"

  "I don't know. A lot more, for sure."

  Serena popped out of the kitchen doorway, her toffee-brown hair tied up in a ponytail on top of her head. She was drying her hands with a dish towel even as she smiled at me. "Welcome home, Keely. How was your Scot---I mean how was Scotland?"

  The twinkle in her gray eyes assured me she had almost asked me how my Scot was and that her apparent flub had been done on purpose. Evan was not my anything. We had a fling, it was over, end of story. My real life needed me. Time to file away my fantasy in Scotland in the "pleasant memories" folder.

  If I'd wanted to forget it, my irritating inner voice asked, why had I told Serena about Evan? She and I had talked every day when I called to check on my dad. I could have left out the parts of my day that involved Evan, but I hadn't.

  "You must be exhausted," Serena said. "Why don't you catch a nap?"

  "I slept on the plane."

  Dad waggled his brows at Serena. "Keely traveled in high style on Evan MacTaggart's fifty-million-dollar jet."

  "Fifty million pounds," I corrected.

  "Oh," Serena said, her mouth forming a perfectly round O. "Well, you must be hungry. I'll whip you up a sandwich."

  "Not hungry," I said. "I ate on the plane too."

  "Okay, fine. I made brownies if you want dessert."

  Dessert. Why did the word remind me of Evan?

  I did not want to discuss Evan or his jet anymore, or the gourmet meal I'd enjoyed on the plane. Evan had hired a five-star chef to cook me a sumptuous meal in flight. Was he trying to impress me with his wealth? He couldn't believe flaunting his bank balance would make me change my mind.

  He had told me he'd never been in a serious relationship, never had a genuine girlfriend either. Maybe he honestly had no clue how to navigate the treacherous waters of dating and relationships. Not that I was an expert. I'd need at least one success under my belt to qualify for that title.

  I followed Serena and my father into the kitchen, where Dad and I headed for the round table. I pulled one chair away, tucking it in the corner so Dad could pull his wheelchair up to the table. We didn't have a fancy house with a kitchen island. Our house offered a table, chairs, and limited counter space. Evan's kitchen had been large, open, and gorgeous.

  Serena brought a pan of brownies and three plates to the table. Once she'd settled into the chair across from me, she doled out the brownies and handed each of us a plate.

  When I lifted my first bite to my mouth, Serena stopped me with a question.

  "So, what was it like dating a billionaire?"

  I set down my loaded fork. "We weren't dating."

  "You went sightseeing together, you ate meals together, you had---"

  "Lots of fun together." I'd cut her off before she could mention sex since I had no doubts she'd been about to do just that. The woman had no compunctions. None whatsoever. I added, "Evan is a nice man. I'm glad I got to spend some time with him outside of work, but that's all it was. Friendship."

  Dad gave me his skeptical-cop look. "You can't fool me."

  Serena wouldn't have told my father I was sleeping with Evan. Would she?

  "It's okay," Dad said. "You don't have to be embarrassed about boffing a billionaire."

  My gaze flew to Serena, and it was my turn to squint like a skeptical cop. "You blabbed, didn't you?"

  "I did not," she said, appearing genuinely affronted. "I would never do that."

  "She didn't blab," Dad told me. "Former police detective sitting here, kiddo. I figured it out all on my own."

  Damn. Sometimes I hated having an ex-cop for a father.

  "Not sure what it was," I said, "but it's over. I am never going to see or speak to Evan again."

  "Why the hell not?"

  "Because I don't date anymore. You know that."

  He rolled his eyes, his mouth crimped. "I know you keep saying that, but it's bullcrap. You're too young to give up on dating." He bent forward to spear me with his cop stare again. "Who's the one who keeps pestering me to sign up on that dating website for old farts? Oh yeah, it's you."

  "That's different. You and Mom divorced amicably."

  "What's that got to do with the price of beans?"

  "You're not---" I searched my b
rain for a way to say it without sounding self-important. "You didn't have the bad experiences I've had with marriage. Besides, I'm not pushing you to get involved with someone half your age."

  Serena chimed in. "Evan isn't half your age unless you time-warped and came back sixty years old."

  "He's thirty," Dad said. "Eleven years' difference ain't nothing. Billy and his lady have an eighteen-year difference, and they've been happy as clams for twenty-one years."

  Oh yes, my father loved to use his ex-cop buddies as proof of whatever point he was trying to make about my life. When I'd announced I was done with dating, he'd told me about his pal Rocko who got divorced after thirty-two years of marriage and started dating again right away. Somehow that proved I shouldn't give up on romance. Rocko had initiated his divorce, though, because his wife wanted to move to Boca Raton and he refused to leave Utah. That hardly compared to what my ex-husband number two had done.

  "Call the billionaire," Dad said in his stern-parent voice.

  Was this how I sounded when I told Evan to behave? He'd called it my schoolteacher voice. He'd liked it, but I did not appreciate it when my father adopted that tone. It meant he was going to meddle and wheedle until I did what he thought I should do.

  The tactic rarely worked. I was as stubborn as he was.

  "Stop calling Evan 'the billionaire,' please," I said. "He's not an untouchable deity who lives in an ivory tower."

  But he sure was a god in the sack.

  "Oh no," Serena said in a sarcastic tone, "he's definitely not untouchable. You know all about that, don't you, Keely?"

  "You like him," Dad said. "And you are not too old for anything."

  I growled under my breath. "Could we please drop the subject of Evan MacTaggart?"

  "Let's make a deal," Dad said. "I'll sign up on that dating website if you call Evan and invite him to visit you here."

  "No, Dad. That's N-O spelled out in giant, flashing neon letters."

  Resigned to never getting my loved ones off my back, I snatched up my brownie with my bare hand and tore off a massive bite. If I couldn't stop them talking, I'd stuff my mouth so at least I wouldn't snap out a sassy retort.

  Invite Evan to visit? Never. I'd had two flings with the man, and that was my limit. In Paris, he'd bolted. In Scotland, he'd tried to convince me to jump into a relationship with him. Even if I liked him---okay, I did like him---I couldn't trust him not to take off again or hurt me in some other way I hadn't imagined yet.