by Anna Durand
Get a grip, woman.
No chance of that. I lathered up a handful of liquid soap, lavishing the suds over my skin the same way Lachlan roved his hands over me. He'd kiss my neck, squeeze my breasts, murmur "sweet Erica" in my ear. Hunger pulsated through me. The most enticing lass. His voice reverberated in my mind, deep and sexy. I feathered my fingers over my breasts, and my nipples pearled.
Dimly, I heard my phone ringing. Oh great. With my luck, it'd be my parents calling and I'd sound drunk — because I was drunk, on lust. I shut off the water and stumbled out of the stall. My phone was still ringing. Snatching up a towel, I wrapped it around my body and rushed to the bedside table. My sodden hair flopped around my head, spritzing water everywhere. I got to the phone one ring before my voicemail would've picked up the call.
"Hello?" Christ. I did sound drunk, my two syllables slurred.
"Good morning, sweet." Lachlan's voice rushed through my veins like whisky, warm and intoxicating. "You sound out of breath. Have you been exercising?"
I cleared my throat. "Just had a shower."
"An exhilarating one, I gather."
"I —" He couldn't know. I was breathless, so he assumed… what? A blush rose in my cheeks, and I tried to squelch it by patting the back of my damp hand on my face.
"Would you do me a favor?" he asked.
"Depends."
"Go to your kitchen, please."
A cold thread wound around my heart. Had he broken into my house? Jesus, girl, you are so paranoid. I endeavored to sound nonchalant but likely failed. "May I ask why?"
"I want to see you."
"Um…" My heartbeat accelerated at the idea of him seeing me in nothing but a towel. It was wicked. So not like me. Well, wasn't that my goal these days? Shed the old me and suck life's marrow before I went to the slammer?
Lachlan's voice dropped to a whisper. "Are you in a towel? Or maybe you ran from the shower so fast you're —"
"In a towel. Yes."
"Let me see you. Please."
I bit my lip until it hurt, one hand clutching the towel to keep it from slipping off my naked body. Let him see me? A wild woman did things like this, I supposed. Besides, I was wearing a towel that covered my most private bits. "Okay."
He let out a long breath as if he'd been holding it in. "To the kitchen."
Phone in hand, I sashayed out into the living room and straight through to the kitchen. Lachlan stood in the living room of his house, directly across from the bay window in the breakfast nook. Dressed in jeans and an unbuttoned hunter green shirt, his muscled torso on full display, he was mouth-wateringly gorgeous, like a model for a romance novel cover.
I smiled and said into the phone, "Here I am."
"Yes you are." He laid a hand on his bare chest, fingers curling. "You're a vision in the morning, wet and clean, just begging to be sullied."
"Is that your plan? To sully me?"
"And then some." He moved his hand down to his waistband, but his eyes stayed locked on me, his mouth open, tongue tapping the bottoms of his front teeth.
My body tightened, muscles deep within contracting. The air seemed to grow hot and thick, my skin abruptly sensitized to the slightest draft. I couldn't climax from the way he looked at me. Could I?
A crazy impulse reeled through me, to release the towel and let it fall away. My hand holding the sides of the towel together loosened. The fabric slipped just enough to admit a draft that kissed my damp skin.
With one hand, Lachlan covered his enlarging shaft, barely contained by his low-slung jeans. "Any chance of a preview?"
"Preview of what?"
"You." He shimmied his hips, adjusting his length through his jeans. "One glimpse of what you're hiding under the towel."
I scuffled backward a step, my breaths labored. Lord, how I wanted to give it to him. A preview. Considering I'd agreed to sleep with him tonight, what harm was there in playing a little game with him now? My face grew numb, probably because I'd stopped breathing. Inhale. Exhale. The numbness faded, but I couldn't tear my gaze from Lachlan's.
What the hell. I took hold of both sides of the towel and spread them open.
Lachlan's eyes flashed wide, his jaw went slack. His voice was a raspy whisper. "Fuck me."
"That's the plan, isn't it?" I closed the towel, unable to restrain my grin.
His hand flew to his head, fingers knotting in his hair. He shook his head slowly. "You are stunning. I cannae wait till I'm buried inside ye."
My gaze landed on the bulge in his jeans. Turnabout time. I tugged the towel around me and tucked one corner inside, between my breasts, to secure it. Leaning back against the kitchen island, I waved at his jeans. "Your turn."
"What?" His face blanked for a second, then a sly grin slid across his features. "Suppose it's only fair."
He unbuttoned his jeans. My gaze was glued to his fingers as they toyed with the dangly part of his zipper. I crossed my ankles, but the pose only exacerbated the ache in my sex. One millimeter at a time, he eased the zipper ever downward. Lower. Lower. The head of his erection emerged, splashed with golden morning sun. With twenty feet and two windows between us, I couldn't make out more details, and besides, shadows blurred the rest of his crotch. The zipper edged down, down, down.
The tip of his index finger coasted along his rigid penis in slow motion. I envisioned my tongue tracking the same path, my fingers following in their wake to encircle his girth. Despite the shadows, with a sharp intake of breath I noted one fact.
My tongue went dry, thanks to the breeze rushing in through my gaping mouth. "No underwear?"
"Why bother? Don't plan on wearing clothes much this month." He unveiled another inch of his shaft. I couldn't get a good enough view from way over here and lunging side to side didn't help. Where had I put the binoculars? His sinful chuckle snapped my focus back to him and shimmied a hot shiver down my spine. "Like what you see?"
I gripped the island for support, suddenly woozy, as the full length and breadth of him surfaced. Shadows shmadows. I knew exactly what I was staring at — the awe-inspiring cock of a wildly aroused Highlander. Wow. "Can I come over for a closer look?"
Oh crap. Why had I said that? This man liquefied my brain. Well, he wanted a hot fling with a wanton American. Strap in, cuz this rollercoaster has no brakes.
He zipped up his jeans. "This was a preview, remember? We'll both look our fill this evening."
"So, we're on for tonight?"
"Nothing could keep me away." His lips curved up at the corners but remained sealed.
"What about all day? Another picnic or something?"
"Afraid I can't see you today, my plans will take time. But tonight I'll give you a fine meal and a night you won't forget."
Like a last meal for a death-row inmate. I'd lap up every crumb, because hey, it was rude to leave food on your plate. I laid a hand on the towel's top edge, plucking at the fold that bound it. "Until later."
"Counting the minutes."
He hung up, cast me one last scorching look, and strode off into the depths of his house.
*****
I clamped my hands over the sofa's edge, my butt inches from slipping off the cushion. Lachlan had insisted on preparing some kind of surprise for me, and I heard noises from the direction of the bedroom — rustling, thumping, the shooshing of bare feet on carpet, the scritching of… matches? I fidgeted and wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. Would he ever be done?
The whole day had dragged by, while I tried to distract myself with grocery shopping, bathroom cleaning, dog walking, and even my first attempt at dog bathing. All I accomplished was getting doused with sudsy, filthy water shaken out of a golden retriever's coat. Casey hated baths. Lesson learned.
For my evening with Lachlan, I'd exchanged sweats for a flouncy, sleeveless dress with a pastel floral pattern and a plunging neckline, another Goodwill find. With a bit of safety-pinning, I raised the hem to three inches above my k
nees. The second I spied myself in the mirror, though, I realized I didn't want Lachlan to see me in another jury-rigged dress. I changed into jeans and a satin blouse instead, with high heels for that bit of oomph.
When Casey spotted me heading for the front door, he'd known, in that doggie psychic way, I was off to see Lachlan and bounced up and down between me and the door, determined to come with me. After two handfuls of crunchy treats and much cajoling, I got the furball to curl up on my bed, stretched out as if he didn't give a hoot whether I ever came home. Okay, he'd start to worry in the morning, if his breakfast was late.
Maybe the dog didn't mind my leaving him because he knew I'd be with Lachlan. Casey had a thing for my Scotsman.
More noises originated from down the hall. What on earth was Lachlan up to? I kicked off my strappy heels — three inches this time, no six-inch stiletto disaster this go-round — and resisted the urge to glance over my shoulder. I'd promised Lachlan I wouldn't peek, but sticking to my vow got harder and harder the longer he made me wait. I drummed my fingers on the cushions and shouted, "Are you done yet?"
Hands slid through my hair from behind. Lachlan's fingertips smoothed over my cheeks, stimulating my senses, his skin warm and slightly rough, scented with that indescribable musk of manliness I'd never experienced with anyone else. He lighted a kiss on the crown of my head, then angled my face up so he could flutter his lips over my forehead. "This is a lesson in patience."
"Already told you I suck at that."
"Shut your eyes."
"Why?"
"Please." He exhaled over my forehead and the rush of heated air stirred the molten need simmering within me. I clenched the sofa cushions, my gaze fixated on his hypnotic eyes, knocked off kilter by the strangeness of his upside-down face. His hands eased my head back a little farther, the masculine scent of his skin flooding over me, inducing a pang of soul-deep pleasure. He moistened his lips and ran them down the bridge of my nose and back up again, a warm, damp trail left behind in their wake. "Trust me, sweet."
Everything inside me went soft. My eyelids drifted shut on their own, weighed down by a delicious relaxation. He peppered kisses on my lids, pressed his mouth to my temple, and —
"Whoa." A chill shimmered over my skin, though I couldn't unwind the slender thread of anxiety from the tapestry of my desire for him. He'd placed a ribbon of silky fabric over my eyes and was tying it behind my head. "A blindfold? I don't know about this."
"I'll take it off if you like, but I was hoping to unveil your surprise after we're in the bedroom." He brushed my hair back from my shoulders. "Can you trust me?"
"Yes." Why didn't I hesitate to answer? Did I trust him, this man I'd met two days ago? It was insane. Yet first responses tended to be the most honest. That would mean I trusted him. Crazy.
His hands withdrew. My ears tracked his footfalls, coming around the sofa toward me, and then a breeze whooshed over me. Lachlan must've knelt between me and the coffee table. How much do you trust him? How much should you? I shifted in place, pawed at my jeans, and wrung my hands. His mouth sealed over mine, hot and yielding, slamming my pulse into overdrive. My mind shut down. Nerves I didn't know I had flared to life, electrified by his lips slanting over mine, his teeth scraping my lower lip, and yet he held back from touching me with any other part of his body. I slumped forward, aching for more contact, but he moved to stay out of my reach, the gulf between us painfully wide. Skin, gotta have skin. I flung a hand up. He evaded me again. I gave an irritated whimper.
He swirled his tongue over my top lip. "Try to relax. This is meant to be fun."
"Take off the blindfold."
"Bit of a control freak, aren't you?"
"Yes." I tried for a scowl but didn't think I achieved it. Adrenaline zinged through my veins with an exquisite burn. "So take off the damn blindfold."
His lips tickled the corner of my mouth. "Why donnae ye remove it yerself?"
For a brief moment, I noted how his accent thickened and his speech grew more casual when he got excited — either by extreme anger or intense arousal. Then he palmed my breast, snatching away my ability to notice anything except what he was doing to me. I stifled a gasp. "Don't know. I guess because letting you blindfold me is a tacit agreement I won't remove the thing until you say so."
"And ye follow orders, even tacit ones?" His tongue curled around my earlobe. "I've trouble believing that."
"I —" Why had I sat here, obedient, unmoving? The answer shot a cold spike through me. I relished not knowing what he was up to, what he had planned for me. I reveled in giving up control. I liked it. He blew a steamy breath over the shell of my ear, charting the curve. My chill evaporated. A ghost seemed to have possessed me, because I heard myself saying, "I like the blindfold."
"Let's leave it on then, for a wee bit longer." He lifted me onto my feet, his hands firm on my hips, and crushed my body to his with arms thickly corded with muscles. "But when I take ye, I want yer eyes on me."
So did I. My body sizzled at the idea of it. I wanted to watch him over me, his hips thrusting, plunging into me until I lost my mind from the ecstasy of it.
His tongue darted between my parted lips. Mine met his in a brief touch, a tantalizing sample. He tasted of whisky and chocolate. I slapped his chest, missed, and grazed his arm. "Hey! Have you been eating candy and guzzling booze while I sat here waiting for you?"
"A taste test." He flipped me up into his arms. "It's all for you."
His muscles tightened, and I wobbled as he ferried me across the room. I knew he wouldn't drop me, not with his powerful arms cradling my body. I felt so small in his embrace, yet safe like never before. I guided my fingers up his cheek, into his soft hair. "Are you planning to get me drunk, Mr. MacTaggart?"
"The food and spirits are for after." He pressed his velvety lips to the sensitive skin on the inside of my wrist. "I've no need to ply you with liquor before."
He lowered me onto a plush surface covered with a satiny fabric and with deep cushioning beneath me. My head dropped onto a sumptuous pillow with a pfft of air escaping the soft fill, and I rubbed my cheek against the silken cover. The scent of vanilla teased my senses, emanating from elsewhere in the room. My cheeks tightened as a smile curved my lips. I lay on Lachlan's bed. Well, technically, Gil's bed.
My head sprang up. "This is someone else's bed."
"Gil won't mind." Lachlan breathed on the pulse point on my neck, just below my ear. "I asked him."
I tensed. "You asked my friend if he minded you having a poke at me in his bed?"
"No, my sweet, paranoid lass," Lachlan drawled, moving his open mouth down my throat. His lips and tongue painted a damp, hot trail over my skin. "I asked if he minded me entertaining female acquaintances in his home. He said as long as I wash the sheets before he gets back, it was no matter to him."
"How many females have you gotten acquainted with in this bed?"
"None — yet." His lips tickled my throat while his fingers unbuttoned my blouse. The fabric brushed my skin as he spread the blouse open, inch by inch, baring the slopes of my breasts. Cool air shivered over them. "You, my bonnie Erica, will be the first."
Words caught in my throat. The first? His phrasing implied he might bring others here too, during his one-month vacation.
"There willnae be others," he murmured against my collarbone. "I asked ye to be my companion for this month. You and only you."
"What makes you think I care?" I squirmed, partly from discomfort and partly from the heat of his mouth on my skin, his breaths a divine torment shivering over my skin.
He chuckled, the sound vibrating through me. "Ye tensed when I said ye were the first, which means ye care."
"Maybe I'll have other men during the month."
"You won't."
I snorted. "Arrogant much?"
He freed the last button, sweeping aside the halves of my blouse. His hand rested on my bare stomach, his touch light yet possessive. He kis
sed his way down my breastbone, into the valley between my breasts. I fought the urge to rip off the blindfold. I could. He'd let me. But a reckless part of me relished not knowing, not seeing, simply feeling and listening and experiencing. The blindness heightened every sensation until pain twanged through my ears and down my nerves. But Lachlan's tenderness and his soothing voice eased the pain, replacing it with a keen awareness of his every move, every sound, every scent.
His nose grazed my breast. His lips followed, damp and hot, his breaths ghosting over my skin. My nipples tightened, my breasts swollen and aching for his touch. He slipped a finger under my bra strap and pulled it over my shoulder to hang halfway down my upper arm. Then his big hand stole inside my bra, molding to my breast, and with a quick tug, he popped it free. I arched into his touch. With one flick of his thumb over my nipple, he ricocheted electricity through me. It shot straight down to my core, throbbing through my sex. His ravenous mouth latched onto my nipple, suckling and nipping, making me buck and writhe beneath him. While his mouth tormented my nipple, his hand released my breast and traveled down to the button of my jeans. He unhooked it. I plowed my hands into his hair. He unzipped my jeans with a sharp rip, relinquishing my nipple. I made an irritated noise.
Lachlan laughed and pecked a kiss on my nose. "Patience."
"Told you, not my strong suit."
His fingers dove inside the waistband of my jeans to drag them down my thighs. "I've noticed your impatience. Tonight, I'll teach ye to enjoy waiting."
Chapter Thirteen
"Should I be taking notes?"
"Ye won't be thinking clearly enough to jot anything down."
