Irresistible in a Kilt (Hot Scots Book 8)

by Anna Durand

  Fuck, it feels…so bloody good. I squirm in my chair, gasp at every little explosion, and stop breathing again from the sensation of her hot, slick mouth sliding along my flesh, detonating the candy with every centimeter more of me she consumes.

  When the candy stops bursting, she stops moving. Her mouth encloses me, but she just waits there like that.

  I still can't catch my breath. Can't move. Can't convince my vocal cords to function. I try not to look at her, but my eyes have other ideas. They force me to gaze down at the woman who has my dick in her mouth. She's looking at me too. When she flutters her lashes and smiles, the pressure inside me builds into a painful sort of pleasure.

  She moans and begins to glide her mouth up and down my length, up and down, up and down. Every time she withdraws her mouth, the air cools the moisture left behind, and I shudder from the arousing sensation. Her fingers grip the base of my erection, and when she wiggles them, they torment my balls.

  "Cat," I growl, my voice so harsh and strangled I barely recognize it.

  The faint suction of her mouth sends a jolt of pain and pleasure through me. I throw my head back and shout something that's not quite a word, and I know I'll come any second. She begins to suck gently while she works me, her cheeks caving in and her eyes half closed, like she loves doing this to me. More than loves it. She seems lost to the ecstasy of it all.

  "Catriona," I gasp, and then I'm lost too. My back arches, my head slams backward into the chair as I come inside her hot, greedy mouth, and I swear I see stars exploding in front of my eyes, or maybe behind my lids. I don't know if my eyes are open or closed. I come so powerfully that even after I'm done, I stay frozen in that position—frozen and speechless, breathless too.

  When I realize my eyes are closed, I pry them open by sheer force of will.

  She removes her mouth and her hand from my dick, sitting back on her heels. "How was that?"

  "Fucking incredible." I take a moment to regain my ability to breathe without gasping. Then I regard her anew, struck once again by these revelations she keeps throwing at me. "You clearly don't understand the concept of sexual torture."

  "I don't want to torture you. I said maybe I would, which is Alex-speak." She crawls onto my lap and loops her arms around my neck. "Thought it was about time I used your own tricks against you. 'Maybe' and 'what if' are your favorite diversionary tactics."

  "How does giving me intense pleasure get you what you want?"

  Yes, I'm blatantly ignoring her statement about my tricks and diversionary tactics. She's spot on, of course, but I refuse to give her the satisfaction of hearing me admit to that.

  I would love to give her satisfaction in other ways.

  "Now you're relaxed," she says in a sweetly seductive voice. "The only time you ever let your guard down is during or right after sex. That's how I get what I want."

  "When I'm weakened by a mind-altering climax? Dirty tricks, Cat."

  "Aye, but you leave me no choice." She strokes my cheek with her palm, her fingers trailing down my skin. "You can't chase me away, Alex."

  She touches her lips to mine in a feather-light kiss. Gazing into my eyes, she smiles like she…

  No, I won't finish that thought. She can't feel that way anymore, and I don't want to know even if she does.

  "I'll ask you only one question tonight," she says.

  Her mouth finds mine again, pressing more firmly, and the softness and warmth of her lips affects me in the strangest way. My muscles relax, but my heart thumps faster. When she pulls away, I experience something like regret or longing.

  I shut my eyes and mutter a curse under my breath. "What's your question?"

  "Why was I arrested for antiquities smuggling?"

  Chapter Twenty

  Catriona

  I've wanted to know the answer to that question for over a decade. Needed to know. But Alex wouldn't tell me at the time, and I'd had no choice but to walk away from him. Tonight, when I'm about to get that answer, I wonder if I really want to know. My gut churns, pushing acid up into my throat and my mouth.

  Why am I afraid to hear the answer?

  Maybe I'm still in love with him. That might explain my anxiety at this moment, but I don't want to think about that right now.

  "It's complicated," he says, avoiding my gaze despite the fact I'm on his lap with my face so close to his I can feel his breaths tickling my lips.

  "No more excuses, Alex. You said you'd answer my question."

  He tries to lift his wrist but can't, so he sighs and leans his head back.

  I reach for the lock-picking kit, unzip it, and take out the small key I'd hidden inside the kit earlier. Alex is going to share the truth with me, I believe that, so I take pity on him. I unlock the handcuffs and toss them onto the desk. I toss the lock-picking kit and the key there too.

  He eyes me with a mixture of curiosity and anxiety.

  Why does that make me want to hug him?

  I settle for kissing his cheek.

  His brows crinkle. "What was that for?"

  "Call it encouragement. Why was I arrest—"

  "Because of me." He turns his head to the side, away from me. "The chief of police had you arrested as a means of coercing me to do what he wanted."

  "Which was what?"

  Alex shifts in his seat like he can't get comfortable, and he still grips the chair's arms even though I've removed the handcuffs. "He ordered me to nick something for him. I refused, so he invented a charge against you and told his men to arrest you."

  "Nick something? Why would the police chief blackmail you into stealing for him? You're an archaeologist, not a thief."

  "I'm the British Bastard, remember? I can't be trusted, and I have no morals whatsoever."

  "No morals? I've never said that."

  "But it's true." He swivels his head toward me, his lips kinked into a nasty smirk, devoid of humor or sly seduction. "I'm the devil, Catriona. Don't sell your soul to me, or I will corrupt you—even if I don't mean to do it."

  "Not selling you anything. I'm trying to understand why a police chief would blackmail you."

  "He was bent. The law was a means to an end for him, not a sacred duty."

  "Aye, but I still don't understand." I study his face, but I can't see anything in his expression. He's hiding behind a mask of hard indifference, like he doesn't care about me or anything. His act doesn't fool me, though. "Have you ever stolen anything? Logan said you 'borrowed' those Babylonian tablets, but you intended to return them to the museum. Is that true?"

  "What happened to one question only?"

  "These are follow-on questions, which means they count as part of the original one question."

  His smirk turns playful, and he slips his arms around my waist, clasping his hands at the small of my back. "I've always known you're clever, but now I see you're devious too. A lock-picking, key stealing, devious little siren. It's incredibly arousing."

  Maybe his comment should fash me, but I take it as a positive sign. He's relaxed again, and I hope ready to tell me more.

  Before I can repeat my question, he answers it.

  "Have I stolen anything," he says with a sigh, "that's your question. I'm afraid the answer to that is not at all simple, and I'd rather not discuss it tonight. I will tell you this. In all my adult life, I have never stolen anything outright. I occasionally borrow items that don't strictly belong to me, but I always return them."

  "How did you deal with the police chief, then?"

  "What do you think?" He tugs me closer, and his lips curve into a devilishly sexy smile. "I tricked the wanker. When I said I would 'take care of the matter,' he assumed I meant to steal the diamond necklace he was lusting after. It belonged to the wife of a trustee at the university. Instead of stealing it, I sent a videotape to that trustee, one that showed the police chief shagging his wife."

  "How did that stop the police chief?"

  "The trustee had infl
uential friends who were very loyal to him." Alex's smile turns smugly satisfied. "Let's just say that getting a leg over with that man's wife was not good for the police chief's career."

  I plant a quick, firm kiss on his lips. "You're the clever one, Alex. I knew you wouldn't steal anything."

  No, I didn't miss the part of his explanation where he said he'd never stolen anything in all his "adult life." I want to interrogate him about that, but I don't want to spoil the trust he's shown me tonight by sharing the whole story of that awful day so long ago.

  I kiss him again, taking my time, loving the way his lips soften and yield to mine and his mouth opens just enough to let my tongue slip inside. He slips his tongue inside my mouth too, and soon we're engaged in a steamy dance that makes me randy all over again. What I'd done to him earlier got me aroused, but this kiss affects me even more. He tastes like… Mm, I delve deeper to get a better taste of him, moaning and thrusting my fingers into his hair.

  He groans into my mouth.

  Oh, that flavor. It's familiar and intoxicating, but every time I try to identify it, he slides his tongue around mine and I forget what I was thinking. His hands glide up to my breasts, palming them.

  I give up his lips, though I don't want to, and gaze into his hooded eyes. "Alex…"

  "Hush, love. Don't ruin the moment."

  "All right." I lick my lips, and suddenly I remember where I've tasted this flavor before. "Have you been drinking Ben Nevis whisky?"

  "Maybe I have."

  I seal two fingers over his lips. "No more 'maybe' and 'what if.' Forthright answers, or I'll pick the lock on your desk drawer next time."

  "Have it your way. Yes, I sometimes drink Ben Nevis."

  "Why? It's from Scotland."

  "Logan introduced me to it. Before that, I enjoyed Talisker."

  I lean back, considering him for a moment. "That's my brother Lachlan's favorite whisky."

  Alex shrugs.

  "When we lived together," I say, "I told you about Talisker. You ordered a bottle from Scotland and gave it to me for my birthday. But you claimed you didn't like it. Why would you be drinking Talisker years later?"

  "Does it matter? A drink is a drink."

  I know that's nonsense, but he won't tell me anything more tonight. And I promised to leave him be after he answered the question about my arrest. Why did I promise that?

  "Mhac na galla," I mutter under my breath.

  "Son of a bitch?" Alex says, seeming much too pleased with himself for knowing what the Gaelic phrase means. "Are you cursing me for drinking your favorite whisky?"

  "Drink what you like, it makes no difference to me." I hop off his lap and straighten my clothes, which aren't exactly clothes. The fabric is almost transparent everywhere except where the lace pattern obscures it. "I'll make dinner."

  Alex stares at me, seeming dumbfounded, while I walk out of his study. He meets me in the kitchen a while later and helps me finish making our meal. We talk while we eat. It's more like I talk, and he occasionally inserts a sarcastic comment softened by his usual practiced cheerfulness. I tell him about all the barmy things my brothers and sisters and cousins have done over the years, but despite his smile, he doesn't laugh. For Alex not to even chuckle is unusual. He stops smiling too, especially when I mention my cousin Logan.

  "I know all about Logan," Alex says while scrutinizing the food that's left on his plate and poking it with his fork. "You know I'm acquainted with Logan and his wife, Serena, not to mention her son. I've heard enough about your family for one night."

  "Then tell me about yours."

  "My what?"

  "Your family, Alex."

  He stabs his fork into a tiny piece of meat, pulls the tines free, and stabs it again. "You never asked me about that before."

  "When we were together the first time, I was too infatuated with you to ask questions. It's different this time." I move his plate away and pluck the fork from his fingers, dropping it onto the island. "Do you have brothers or sisters? Are your parents still alive?"

  He pushes off his stool but still refuses to look at me. "I'll wash the dishes. You can go…do whatever it is you do in my house in the evening."

  "Why did that police chief think he could blackmail you? It implies he had something on you."

  "Everyone has secrets, some of us more than others."

  He carries our plates to the sink and turns on the faucet.

  "I should help you with the dishes," I say.

  "That won't be necessary." He glances at me, though he keeps his head down. "I prefer to be alone tonight."

  Maybe I should give him that time. I forced him into a confession he hadn't wanted to make, because I needed to know the truth. Alex does not like to open up about anything.

  So I leave him in the kitchen and head upstairs to ring my sister Jamie. She's pregnant with her third child, and I feel odd about not being there for that. She's not due for another four months, but still… I miss my family. Jamie's not the only MacTaggart woman who's up the duff these days. I want to be there, but I need to be here. Alex has more to tell me, whether he knows it or not.

  Jamie answers on the first ring. "Are you chained to the wall in Alex Thorne's dungeon?"

  "No, I am not."

  I'm lying on the four-poster bed in the room next to Alex's, wearing only a dressing gown. I've slept in the nude ever since I moved into Alex's house. It feels…appropriate. And aye, maybe I hope one night he'll sneak into my room and wake me up with his mouth on my body. I don't care if it's on my lips, my breast, or my clitoris. I've given up denying I want him, so I embrace the fantasies without any hesitation.

  Except at this moment, I can't fantasize. My sister is talking again.

  "Where are you staying?" Jamie asks. "Logan and Serena think you're in Alex's house, but I couldnae believe it. You? In the British Bastard's house? It's not possible."

  I squirm a little, knowing she won't like my answer. "Aye, I'm in Alex's house. It has fifteen bedrooms, you know."

  "Which one are you in?"

  The tone of her voice assures me she thinks, or hopes, I'll tell her I'm in the room farthest from where Alex sleeps. I have to disappoint her.

  "I'm in the room next to his," I tell Jamie. "And before you start havering about what an eejit I am, let me explain. Alex is not the devil incarnate, and he's not a sex fiend either." Well, I don't think he is. I'm not sure whether I'll care if I turn out to be wrong. "He and I have unfinished business. That's all."

  "Would that be unfinished shagging? Please tell me that's all it is. Not sure I can take hearing how you want to reform him."

  "Alex is not a criminal." As far as I know. I can't believe he would break the law, despite the fact he has a habit of "borrowing" artifacts. He always returns them.

  "What is he, then?" Jamie asks. "I searched Google to find out what Alex is up to lately, and it came up with a video of his lecture this week. The one where he showed off a…" She clears her throat and speaks in a hushed tone. "A giant, dangling slat."

  I can't stop the laughter that bursts out of me. "Giant, dangling penis? It was a fascinum wind chime, which was a good luck charm in ancient Rome."

  Jamie snorts. "It looked like a slat to me."

  "That's what a fascinum is."

  "I knew it. That man is a sexual deviant."

  Alex might be intensely sexual and fond of making filthy jokes, but he's not a deviant. I don't bother trying to explain that to Jamie. She's already made up her mind.

  "Tell me what our brothers are doing lately," I say.

  Jamie starts talking, her tone excited while she explains what's happened since I left Scotland barely a week ago.

  The door to my bedroom pivots inward.

  I stop listening to Jamie, suddenly warm and relaxed and oblivious to my sister's blethering.

  Alex saunters over to the foot of the bed and crawls up it toward me. He's wearing nothing but a pair of paj
ama bottoms. The expression on his face, carnal and determined, makes my body rouse and tingle, every hair shivering and stiffening.

  I set the phone on the mattress a few feet away from me. While Jamie keeps talking, I whisper to Alex, "What are you doing?"

  "I owe you one," he murmurs, still crawling closer and closer. When his head hovers over my hips, he slants one side of his mouth into a naughty smile. With his fingers, he pushes the dressing gown away from my thighs and whispers, "Hang up the phone."

  "No," I mouth.

  "Have it your way," he murmurs.

  Jamie's voice continues to broadcast from my phone. "So then Emery told Rory he should—"

  I'm not listening. My focus is locked on Alex, as he eases my legs apart and kisses my inner thigh, laving his tongue over my skin. I shiver, though not from cold. I know what he's about, and I don't care. How can that be? Alex entices me to do things I would never have done with anyone else, like having sex in a lecture hall with the doors wide open. Tonight, he wants to give me pleasure with his mouth while my sister is talking to me on the phone.

  And I want him to do it.

  Why haven't I hung up on Jamie? I should. It's the sensible thing to do. But the idea of having his mouth on me while I'm on the phone with my sister, it makes me so turned on I can hardly breathe.

  Maybe I've had enough of being sensible.

  Alex dives his head between my thighs and begins to lick, nibble, and suckle on my flesh. When he seals his mouth over my hard nub, I gasp.

  "What's wrong?" Jamie asks. "Are you all right, Cat?"

  "Fine, aye."

  Hang up, my brain tells me. But Alex is suckling my clitoris, and when he slips his hands under my bottom and hoists it up, my head falls back against the wall.

  "Oh, Alex."

  Did I say that out loud? Donnae care if I did.

  "What is Alex Thorne doing to you?" Jamie demands. "Do I need to send Rory to America to check on you?"

  "No." My neck arches as Alex licks faster, tugs harder on my clit, and makes grunting sounds like he can't get enough of me. "Goodbye, Jamie."

  I mash my finger to the phone to disconnect the call.