by Anna Durand
"Because you've never tasted a drink you like, that's what you said." He wagged the bottle. "You will like this. It's made on the Isle of Skye, off the western coast of the Highlands."
"I've heard of Skye, but I seriously doubt I'm going to like its whisky."
"Not just any whisky." He lifted his chin. "Scottish whisky. A single malt distilled on a mystical island where the ancients held their mysterious rituals to commune with gods."
"How will a history lesson make me like the booze?"
He huffed. "Will you not let me tell you about the whisky? I'm trying to paint a picture for you."
"I'm sorry, really. You're creating a wonderful picture for me, but I doubt anything you say could alter my taste buds." I eyed the bottle with faux suspicion. "Are you trying to get me drunk, Mr. MacTaggart?"
"Don't need to get you drunk to have my way with you." He tipped the bottle to one side. "Will you try it once?"
I considered the bottle for a moment, absorbing the warm and smoky color of the whisky. It did look good and this seemed oddly important to him. "Okay. One sip."
With a grateful smile, he plucked up the small glass he'd must've hidden with the bottle. A whisky glass, I guessed. He opened the bottle, his arm muscles tautening with the effort, and decanted the liquor into the glass, filling it with one inch of amber liquid.
He offered me the glass. "Taste the legend of Skye."
I gave him a playful smile. "You're starting to sound like a Scottish tourism brochure."
"Taste the bloody whisky."
"Yes, sir." I lifted the glass, sniffing the amber liquid. A strong, acrid scent filled my nostrils. I wrinkled my nose. "Smells like bad vinegar."
His lips tightened, his eyes went squinty. But he regained his composure in a heartbeat, his lips curling into a sensual expression. "Take a sip, let it slide down your throat, and feel the whisky penetrate your body."
I dipped my nose to sniff again.
Aidan slapped a hand over the glass, blocking my olfactory attempt. "Drink, don't smell."
"Okay, okay." I waited for him to remove his hand, then lifted the glass to my mouth. It felt cool against my lips. "Here goes."
I took a sip — and gagged.
Before I could even swallow, the whisky seared my mouth and its acrid taste invaded my senses. I gulped it down, desperate to get it out of my mouth, but the bluckiness seemed trapped on my tongue. I shoved the glass at Aidan and used my shirt to scrub my tongue as a coughing fit overtook me.
Aidan stared at me, face slack, the glass in one hand and the bottle in the other.
Recovering from the coughing, I cleared my throat several times in quick succession. My voice hoarse, I declared, "That's the most awful thing I've ever put in my mouth."
He collapsed against the sofa, facing forward. The bottle rested between his thighs, but he held the glass on his lap. His expression resembled total defeat.
"Cannae believe it," he mumbled. "This worked for Lachlan."
The words sifted into my brain, their meaning hitting me like a splash of cold water. I sat up and looked straight at him. "Was this another thing Lachlan did with Erica?"
"Aye," he admitted miserably, rubbing his forehead. "It's how he started his seduction. She loved the whisky."
I cringed a little, experiencing a twinge of guilt for my reaction. Maybe I should've pretended to like it, or at least hidden my disgust, but I wasn't that good a liar. "Two days ago, you wouldn't play a board game with me because Lachlan and Erica did that. Why are you back to reenacting their affair?"
"Wanted to do something special, but I couldn't think of anything. Seemed like a good idea until you drank the whisky."
I laid a hand on his arm. "I was kind of obnoxious about that. Can you forgive me?"
"Aye, it's not your fault." He let his head fall back. "I'm the eejit who keeps trying to re-create my brother's affair. I figured if it worked for uptight Lachie, then it has to work for me."
"I'm not Erica and you're not Lachlan. How about we try being ourselves? You don't need to win me over with liquor and flowery descriptions of an island. I like you, Aidan. I'm here with you, not your brother."
He grumbled. "If you met Lachlan, you'd probably like him better."
"Bullshit." I rested my chin on his shoulder, sliding my hand over his abdomen, relishing the texture of hard muscle beneath the smooth cloth of his shirt. "You don't need props to impress me."
He swigged a mouthful of whisky, a bit of it spilling onto his lips.
I took his face in my hands, sat up, and dragged my tongue across first his bottom lip, then his upper lip. "Mm, it tastes better on you."
His breath hitched, his eyes locked onto mine.
My hands still bracketing his face, I tugged him closer. Our gazes never separated, as if a rope bound us to each other. I captured his lower lip between mine and suckled, gently at first, then with more hunger as the familiar, heady desire flared inside me. Though he held onto the whisky bottle with one hand, the other settled onto my hip, his fingers curling around it.
I released his lip.
Our labored breaths reflected off each other amid the whispers of our exhalations. I scented the whisky on his breath, and suddenly, an overpowering need to taste it on his tongue seized me.
I crushed my mouth to his.
He made a soft noise — part groan, part gasp — and opened his mouth to me.
Need pulsed through me, from my nipples mashed to his hard chest straight down to my tightening clitoris. I held fast to his face as I thrust my tongue inside his soft, hot mouth. He coiled his tongue around mine in a slow and seductive movement that drove me to quest deeper, to lap up the flavor of whisky and Aidan, to draw a piece of him into myself. The texture of his mouth, a juxtaposition of satiny softness and unyielding teeth, had me virtually panting into his mouth, my breasts heaving against his torso, rubbing my rigid nipples.
He surged up off the sofa, leaving me in a daze on the cushions.
I blinked up at him, struggling to clear the haze of desire and catch my breath.
Aidan gulped down a mouthful of whisky, then clapped the bottle down on the coffee table. Swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, he glanced down at me with parted lips and ruddy cheeks.
"Best stop," he said, and stalked around the sofa to the bar, where he planted both palms atop the surface, leaning into it with his head bowed.
I sat there for a moment, confused. He couldn't have been offended I kissed him. What, then, had made him stop?
Pushing up off the sofa, I marched over to the bar and halted beside Aidan. He didn't move, his head still down and his eyes closed. I placed one hand on his and he tensed the tiniest bit.
"What is it?" I asked. "Thought you liked kissing me."
"I love it," he said in a hushed voice. "But I want more than kissing."
Keeping my hand atop his, I bent one finger to stroke the back of his hand. "I know. You want sex. I want — "
"No." He pulled his hand away, turned, and walked halfway across the living room. Scrubbing his face with one hand, he sighed. "I want more than sex. You know that."
I leaned against the bar, my elbow braced on it. "Okay, but you said sex would come first."
He faced me, standing straight and certain. "Marry me."
"What?" I almost shouted the word, shocked by his declaration. "Where is this coming from? You know I can't marry you. Even if I wanted to, we barely know each other."
"Aye, but I know what I want."
My stomach fluttered and my pulse began to race. Seven days, that's how long I'd known this man. Seven days, and I already got excited at the prospect of marrying him. He wasn't Rade, he wasn't Tara's first husband, he wasn't anything like Gavin's ex-wife. I knew this and yet I feared I'd make another mistake that would trap me.
Aidan took two steps toward me, hesitating five feet away. "Please, Calli, marry me. I swear I'll make you happy and you'll never regret this. One day, maybe you'll even love me."
"Do you love me?"
He lowered his gaze and scratched the back of his head. "Not yet."
"Then why would you want to marry me? What's the rush?"
One of his shoulders hiked up. He stared at the floor, his mouth tight, as seconds ticked by on the clock in my head. After a couple minutes, he shuffled to the padded chair on the other side of the living room, the one situated against the wall under a topographic map of the Upper Peninsula. He fell into the chair with a groaning sigh, his shoulders deflating, his entire body slumping. Hands on the chair's arms, he refused to look up at me, even as I crossed the room to kneel before him.
"Aidan." I placed my hands on his knees. "Please tell me what's going on with you."
"Ye donnae want to hear."
I shifted my hands to his thighs. "Yes, I do."
He made a pitiful noise, his mouth twisted. "Lachlan didn't want a wife, but he found one. Thought if I did what he'd done, I could change your mind about me. But ye still donnae want me, not the way I want you."
"Did Lachlan propose to Erica after one week?"
"No." Aidan fidgeted in his seat. "First, he broke her heart and left her for two months. Then, he begged her to marry him."
"Uh-huh." I tapped a finger on his chest. "Why would you want to reenact that? Sounds like the Amazing Lachlan fucked it up with Erica and then got lucky when she generously took him back. Is that really how you want things to go with me?"
His eyes rolled up to meet mine. His lips curled up at the corners. "You said fuck."
"That's what you took away from what I said?"
"No, I understood the rest." He bent one arm to prop his chin on his knuckles. "But I've never heard you say fuck before. Kind of like it, though I'd rather hear it from you when we're both naked."
I sat back on my heels, giving him a sardonic smile. "Getting back to Lachlan…"
Aidan puckered his lips. "I do see your point. Lachlan made a mess of things, but I was hoping some of his methods might work for me. This is the first time I've tried to win a wife. No bloody idea what I'm doing."
"Oh, I'd say you're doing fine all on your own."
"You still don't want to love me."
"Sure, but you don't love me either."
He studied me for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "I want to. That's the difference. Deep down, though, I think you want to love me too."
"Give it up, Kilt Boy. I am not falling for you." So why did I care about making him feel better? Why did his emotional turmoil make my heart clench?
Dropping his hand, letting it dangle over the chair's arm onto his lap, he frowned. "Then you won't be sleeping with me."
I flattened my palms on his thighs and leaned in, pushing between his legs to get closer. With our faces so near I could've flicked my tongue out to sample his lips, I met his gaze head-on. "I've already decided to have sex with you."
His eyes flared wide. "You what? Why?"
Laughing softly, I squeezed further between his thighs until I could feel his penis hardening inside his jeans. "I like you, Aidan. You're sweet and funny and smart and you make me feel good." I moved my hands to his chest, toying with the neckline of his T-shirt. "And you're the sexiest man on earth."
"Sexiest? Do I get a trophy for that?"
"No, but you do get a prize." I slid my hands down his torso. "Me."
"But — ah." He flinched as I cupped his erection. "You know I want you. Badly. But not like this, I need to prepare."
I plastered my body to his, running my hands up his massive biceps, loving the sensation of taut muscles bunching under my touch and his breaths whispering over my cheek. "Prepare? I have condoms. Bought them at the store today, when you were contemplating the avocados."
"Not that." His face pinched, he gripped the arms of the chair. "Need to set the scene, make it special."
"How long will that take?" I nipped at the tender flesh at the juncture of his jaw, rewarded by his sharp intake of breath.
"Might need a day, maybe two."
"A day or two?" I drew my head back. "You're kidding, right? I offer myself to you and all you can say is let's wait two days."
"Donnae want to."
I scrutinized him for a moment, and with a mental bolt of lightning, the truth struck me. "Is this what Lachlan did with Erica?"
Aidan scratched his cheek. "Aye."
"For heaven's sake." I grasped his head in both hands and told him in my sternest voice, "Stop with the Lachlan and Erica reenactment. I told you I don't want that. I want you. Can you get that through your thick, Scottish head? I want you. Tonight. Forget about your brother, forget about everyone else. Do this your way."
"My way would be I carry you into the bedroom and strip you naked right this minute."
"Yes. Please do."
He grinned. "You are wonderful."
I rubbed my body against his straining erection. "You gonna fuck me or what?"
"Aye." He scooped me up in his arms at the same instant he surged up from the chair. His muscles flexed and tautened around me as he carried me down the hallway and into the bedroom. When he spotted the puppies asleep on the quilt, he called out, "Time to go, furry lassies."
Misty and Mandy flew off the bed and out of the room. The doggie door whapped closed behind them as Aidan kicked the bedroom door shut.
"Need privacy," he said, setting me on my feet, "for what I'm going to do to you."
A shiver of anticipation rippled through me.
He took hold of my waist, tugging me into him. "I'm about to show you how wicked I really am."
Chapter Sixteen
His fingers slipped under my shirt, gliding upward, taking the fabric with them. Cool air whispered over my skin as he exposed my belly in leisurely increments. The hairs all over my body went erect and a breathtaking tingle swept over my skin. Eyes half closed, I let my hands rest on his chest, awaiting the moment when I would be bared to him.
Aidan froze, his fingertips a hair's breadth below my bra.
"No," he said, "not like this."
Irrational annoyance blustered through me and I threw my hands up. "What now? If you say we have to wait so you can do whatever Lachlan did — "
His soft, throaty chuckle caressed my senses. "I meant not with me undressing you. I want you to strip for me."
"Oh." My cheeks grew warm with a rising blush. "Sorry."
"Don't be." He tipped my chin up with one finger. "I like your passion."
"Apparently, I get a little irrational when I'm sexually frustrated."
He kissed me — a quick, light touch. "I'll take care of that soon enough. First, I want to watch you."
With a suggestive smirk on his lips, he sauntered to the bed and lowered his big body onto the mattress. It creaked under his weight. His hands lay on the quilt, but his eyes stayed glued to me.
I stood there, immobilized by uncertainty. How did a woman strip for a man? Was I supposed to do some kind of sexy dance? Ugh. I had no clue how to do that.
"Relax," he said, canting his head as he swept his gaze down the length of my body and back up to my face. "Just take your clothes off. I'm easy to please, trust me."
Okay. I could do this. Strip. How hard could it be?
I chewed the inside of my lip, fingering the hem of my shirt, my gaze averted to the dresser.
"Look at me," he murmured. "Keep your eyes on me and try to relax. Look like you've got a caber up your erse."
"You have a caber fetish, don't you?"
"I've got a fetish for watching you undress."
The smoldering fire in his gaze heated me up, softening the tension from my muscles, melting me from the inside out. I took hold of my shirt and drew it up over my head, then tossed it to the floor.
"Oops," I said, my hand flying to my mouth. "Was that too fast? Should I do it slower?"
"It was fine." He moved his hands behind his butt and leaned back on them. The pink tip of his tongue poked out between his lips, tracing the seam. "Keep going."<
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The husky tone of his voice electrified my body. My breasts grew tight and my nipples ached, desperate to escape the confines of my bra. I unzipped my pants, shimmying out of them under Aidan's attentive gaze. His lips parted as he tracked my every movement, and when I kicked my jeans away, he swallowed visibly. I turned my back to him and looked at him over my shoulder with my best attempt at a saucy smile.
"More," he growled, his breaths labored.
Emboldened, I unhooked my bra and let it tumble off my shoulders, fluttering down to the floor. I slid my thumbs inside the waistband of my panties, and little by little, I eased them down while swaying my hips, dragging the fabric over my buttocks. The slow slide of cotton on my skin amped up my own arousal — but it was the hungry, almost crazed, look on Aidan's face that triggered a deep, wet ache in my sex.
Nude at last, I folded my arms around me, still gazing at him over my shoulder.
He twirled one finger in the air. "Turn, please. Slowly."
His erotic command burned through my inhibitions, incinerating every last shred of self-consciousness. I brushed my hands up and down my arms, swiveling my hips, then spread my palms over my hips, undulating my whole body as I rotated to face him.
His mouth had fallen open. Really, truly fallen open. His half-closed eyes drank me in from head to toe, his gaze searing my skin like a physical touch as he absorbed the sight of my breasts and rigid nipples, the planes of my stomach, the curly hairs at the apex of my thighs. His attention stalled there and he licked his lips.
A wild, heady freedom rushed through me.
I walked up to him, lifted one leg, and set my foot on the bed next to him. Exposed to him in the most intimate way, I draped my hands on his shoulders. His focus snapped to my groin. His chest heaved and I swore he growled low in his throat, a possessive and feral sound that set off a wave of liquid fire in my sex. I followed his gaze to my body, to the glistening flesh revealed to him, to the drops of my own juices clinging to the fine hairs on my mound.
"So bonnie," he said breathlessly. "So bloody perfect. Pink and slick and begging to be tasted."
He lifted one hand, as if in slow motion, and held it near my throbbing sex without contacting my flesh. His palm would've cupped me if he'd moved a touch closer, but instead, he wiggled his fingers to tease the hairs.
