by Anna Durand
Ye've got to be mine, only mine. He couldn't mean —
"Erica." His chin dropped to my shoulder and words burst out of him, punctuated by grunts. "Ah God, mo leannan, yer so soft and sweet and — och!"
"Don't stop, please."
"I willnae." He pounded harder, faster, a frantic melding of our bodies. "Come fer me now, gràidh."
As if by his command, pleasure erupted inside me, stunning a whimpering scream out of me. "Lachlan, yes!"
The pace of his thrusts quickened even more, his balls slapping on my ass. His release pulsed inside me, his feral cries resonating off the walls. He sagged against my back, his lips on my shoulder. Between pants, he said, "Now that's how you scream my name."
"A shower was supposed to relax me."
He lifted my hand to kiss my palm. "Are you saying I haven't relaxed you?"
"Oh, you sure did. Just not in the way I'd planned." I wriggled around to face him. "We probably scared Casey half to death with our caterwauling."
"Men don't caterwaul. We give masculine shouts of appreciation."
I held his face in my hands and ravaged his mouth with all the passion he'd just incited in me. The afterglow hadn't yet faded, and I longed to stay close to him. He kissed me back with an ardor rivaling mine, his hands groping my body. I loved the way he kissed. It melted me from the inside out and branded me with his passion. I'm yours, Lachlan.
We peeled our lips apart. I thanked the universe Lachlan didn't have the power to read my mind. I need you, he'd said. Ye've got to be mine, only mine. He'd spoken those words too, I hadn't imagined them, but did he mean any of it? Or were the declarations fueled by lust? He was leaving a week. Plus, he'd made it clear he wanted no relationships. I had to stop searching for what wasn't there.
Barking erupted in the bedroom.
A chill stiffened the hairs on my neck.
The hunger vacated Lachlan's features. He shut off the water and hustled to the bathroom door. "Casey, what's the bother?"
I secured a towel around myself, joining a nude Lachlan at the doorway. Casey stood at the window, front paws on the ledge. His growling turned into snarls. His lips, flapping from the ferocity of his snarls, pulled back from his sharp canine teeth. Lachlan raced to the window. He jerked the curtains aside and his body went rock-still.
"What is it?" I asked, hurrying to his side.
A shocked face gaped back at us from the other side of the glass. Presley Cichon spun around and bolted.
Lachlan yanked on his pants and sprinted out of the house. I pulled on my sweats and T-shirt, tripping on my way to the door. With both hands, I propelled my body off the floor.
"Wait!" I yelled, in pursuit. Casey beat me to the front door, which wobbled on its hinges after Lachlan's departure, and galloped into the night. The hairs on my arms prickled. I froze at the top of the concrete steps. Casey had latched onto Presley's pants leg, snarling and preventing my ex-boyfriend from fleeing. Presley tried to kick at the dog, but lost his balance and stumbled. Lachlan seized Presley's shirt and hoisted him off the ground.
"Casey!" I clapped so hard my palms hurt and didn't stop until Casey detached his teeth from Presley's pants leg. The dog scampered to me.
Lachlan shook Presley, who sputtered and flailed his fists at Lachlan but landed punches on nothing more sensitive than Lachlan's iron biceps. I pushed Casey into the house, shutting the door after him. Lachlan's voice boomed off the houses.
"What the hell do ye think yer doing?" He rattled Presley again. "Spying on a wee lass? I'm gonnae skite mah fist on yer face till yer spitting teeth."
"I was looking for Erica, that's all," Presley whined.
"Haud yer wheesht, ye bloody bawbag!" Lachlan's brogue had thickened, and his face had gone scarlet. Spittle spattered Presley's face. "Ye've been rummeled this time and ye willnae get away with it."
"With what?" Presley's voice squeaked the tiniest bit. "I haven't done anything. You're the one going ape shit and hollering nonsense. I came to see Erica, heard a weird noise, and checked it out."
"And then yer erse fell off." Lachlan's breaths huffed through his nose. His eyes were wild, his lips curled on every word. "Means yer a liar, ye eejit."
I sprinted to Lachlan and slapped my hands on the bulging bicep of his left arm. "Put him down, Lachlan. Please." His gaze rotated to me. A muscle twitched in his jaw, but he maintained his grip on Presley. I squeezed Lachlan's arm. "Do it for me."
Lachlan unlatched his fingers from Presley's shirt. My ex crumpled to the ground in a jumble of legs and arms. Lachlan swiped his palms across each other and tipped his chin up, his gaze flinty. Presley scrambled to his feet and floundered to straighten out his disheveled clothes. Lachlan held his ground, his fingers working as if he typed on a keyboard — or itched to throttle my prowler ex. I stepped sideways between him and Presley.
The "bawbag" glared at me. "Still screwing Scotch Tape, huh? Shouldn't he get back to the zoo? Bet the girl gorillas miss him real bad."
"Shut up." I lodged my hands on my hips and scowled at him. "What on earth is wrong with you? I know you're the lowest level of scum in the pond, but I never pegged you for a peeping tom. What, you haven't ruined my life enough?"
"I did nothing." He set his lips in a defiant line. "You did it all to yourself."
"You know what? You're right. I did do this to myself." I jabbed a finger at him. "I trusted you."
He rolled his eyes.
Lachlan bared his teeth, cracking his knuckles. He bent forward, and I sensed he was about to launch his massive body at Presley. I edged closer to Lachlan, splaying my hands on his chest. "Let me handle this, okay? Trust me."
Lachlan's gaze landed on mine and his expression softened a touch. He took one step back. "If he makes a move toward ye, I willnae be responsible fer what I do."
"If he makes a move, you have my permission to skelp him till he's roadkill."
"Hey!" Presley waved his arms. "I'm still here, ya know."
I whirled on him. "I'm aware of that. Maybe I should call the cops to report a prowler."
"Who do you think they'll believe?"
Him, of course. The Cichons had connections everywhere. One call from Presley's daddy and the whole incident would get swept under the rug with an industrial blower. I stared into the eyes of the man who'd abused my affections, all in the name of covering up his own greed and criminal tendencies. How could I have cared for Presley, for even one second?
My gaze swiveled to Lachlan. Jaw set, eyes squinted, he drilled his gaze into Presley's. As if perceiving my attention, Lachlan focused on me and his lips formed a faint smile. My heartbeat sped up. How could I stop myself from caring for Lachlan? I couldn't, and I didn't want to, anyway.
Turning to Presley, I pointed at his Alfa Romeo parked at the curb. He hadn't bothered with stealth any of the three times he'd come here. Arrogant ass. "Get out of here."
He sneered at Lachlan, whose hands knotted into fists. Lachlan squinted his eyes and flared his nostrils. I'd never seen anyone's nostrils do that, and whoa, it was scary-sexy. Presley's face paled, his smirk faltering. He scurried to the Alfa Romeo. Neither Lachlan nor I spoke or moved until the sports car zoomed out of sight, the purring of its engine fading into the night.
The adrenaline that kept me upright through our little confrontation flooded out of me. My knees buckled. Black spots dotted my vision and my ears rang, but Lachlan gathered me up in his steady arms.
"Easy." He pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Slow, deep breaths."
He opened the door without setting me down. Casey tailed us into the bedroom where Lachlan laid me on the bed. The sheets were already pulled back and my body crushed the soft, slippery petals of —
I pushed onto one elbow, blinking slowly. Pale pink rose petals lay strewn across the bed and on the pillows. I hadn't noticed them earlier when we discovered Presley the Peeping Cichon. Now, I noticed everything. Candles flickered on the dresser and the bed
side table. A silver tray on the table held a plate of strawberries and a fondue bowl brimming with liquid chocolate, alongside a bottle of Cristal champagne.
Lachlan sat down beside me. The bed jostled, the mattress sinking under his weight. He swept his fingers down my cheek and let his thumb fall on my lips. "This was the other part of your surprise."
"It's amazing." I picked up a rose petal and buried my nose in it, inhaling the sweet aroma. I skated the silky petal over my lips, then used it to tickle Lachlan's mouth, which made his lips twitch. I twirled the petal in the air. "Thank you. I love all of my surprise."
"You're exhausted." He blew out the candles on the table. Shadows engulfed us. "I can recreate this for you tomorrow night."
"I'm okay."
He nodded at the arm propping me up. "Your arm's shaking."
It was. Ah, man. "I'm still okay to —"
"No." He patted the mattress behind me. "Lie down. We're going to sleep."
"We?"
Lachlan tapped a finger on my forehead. "Lie back."
I sprawled on my back amid the roses. Lachlan crawled over my body to stretch out alongside me. He curled an arm around my shoulders and drew me close. I turned onto my side, head tucked against his shoulder, one hand on his chest. My palm rose and fell with his breaths and his heartbeat thumped under my ear, slowing second by second. I felt my own pulse decelerate, my breathing falling into sync with his as if we were tuned in to the same wavelength.
He wouldn't even tell me why he fled Scotland, yet he assaulted my scumbag ex in my defense. And he cuddled up with me afterward, soothing me with his warm, solid body.
"Tell me," I said, "why do you get so angry at Presley?"
Lachlan snorted. "He harasses you, spies on you, upsets you so much you shake. And you wonder why I'm angry?"
"Good point." I sighed. "Truthfully, I kind of like it when you throttle him. Does that make me a bad person?"
"Truthfully…" His fingers slid into my hair, combing through the locks. "I rather enjoy throttling him. Am I bad, then, too?"
"No." I wriggled to cozy up even closer to him, entranced by the feel of his body cradling mine. "You're not bad. You're very, very good."
Lachlan exhaled a groaning sigh. "Never been a violent man, but that — that —"
"Scunner?"
"I was going to say 'asshole,' but scunner works too." Lachlan wrapped his arm tighter around me. "He's a bully, and I hate bullies. No one should try to bend another to their will just for the sake of control."
"Mm." My brain had already begun the shutdown process, thoughts disintegrating, and I couldn't focus on the meaning of his words. So tired. So relaxed.
"Sleep now, sweet."
His fingers threaded through my hair again in a hypnotizing rhythm. My eyelids fluttered shut on their own, despite my best efforts to prop them open through sheer willpower. Couldn't sleep. Too much to say. Semi-wakefulness granted me the courage to speak forbidden words, but the heat of his body, the gentle motion of his fingers — these things eased me ever downward into slumber.
The words I yearned to say bombarded my mind. What happened to you, Lachlan? Why can't you let me in? I suffered an aching need to know more about him, but in the instant before sleep claimed me, a final question taunted me.
Did I care too much?
Chapter Twenty-One
In the morning, I cuddled on the sofa with Lachlan, sharing a totally healthy breakfast — chocolate chip pancakes slathered in maple syrup, with whipped cream on top and crispy bacon on the side. Mmmm. My senses were in ecstasy. But no food, however scrumptious, not even chocolate, could compare to the decadence of making love with Lachlan MacTaggart. Making love? I pulverized a piece of bacon between my fingers. I had to stop thinking of it in those terms. This was sex. Sizzling, amazing, and mind-altering, but sex nonetheless. He was leaving in seven days. I would never see him again once he got on that plane.
My eyes stung. I squeezed them shut. He told me he wanted to know all about me, but he never suggested he might stay to find out.
"All right?" Lachlan asked, caressing my cheek with one finger.
"Fine." I put on a halfway decent smile, I thought. "Dust in my eye."
His brows knit together, etching that adorable crease above his nose. I skimmed my palm down his cheek and he sighed, staking a slab of pancake from our joint plate, balanced on his knee. I forked a whopping chunk and stuffed it in my mouth.
No one should try to bend another to their will just for the sake of control. My sleepy brain managed to hang onto those words, the ones Lachlan offered last night as an explanation for his throttling of Presley. What did bending someone to your will have to do with Presley being a creep? More importantly, what did it have to do with Lachlan and his ex-wife? Maybe nothing.
Maybe everything.
How could I have agreed to this idiotic arrangement? Sex and companionship. Nothing personal. No relationship. I'd wanted him so badly I ignored a basic truth about myself. I did not do casual. Panic about my future drove me to arrange a tryst with Cliff, but I now understood I couldn't have gone through with it. One kiss with Lachlan sent me running from the club, horrified at what I'd done. Yet here I was, enmeshed in a "fling" with a man I'd fallen for but who wanted no part in a relationship. Despite holding me all night. Despite his rage at Presley's stalking. Despite feeding me pancakes and introducing me to Scotch whisky. He felt something. He must.
Lachlan wiped syrup from my chin with his thumb. "You've gone serious all of a sudden."
"Have I?"
"Don't pretend you've no idea what I'm talking about." He leaned in, his body a wall of muscle surrounding me. "I can see the cloud over your head. It's gray and heavy with rain about to pour onto you." His lips twisted in a crooked smirk. "I like you wet, not drowned."
"There's no cloud. I was thinking, that's all."
"About what?"
How much I'll miss you. I slouched, avoiding his gaze. "You'll be gone in a week. There must things you'd like to do before you go."
"Besides you?"
I nudged him with my elbow. "Yes, besides me."
"Yes." He set our plate on the coffee table. "I would like to experience this country a bit more. And I've got an idea of how to do that."
"What kind of idea?"
His expression pinched, he eyed me sideways. "You probably won't like it."
I folded my arms over my breasts. "Tell me."
He scrubbed a hand over his face, then he fixed his sharp gaze on me. "I want you to take a trip with me, to drive around as much of the country as we can in the time I've got left."
"You make it sound like you're dying."
"I'm not dying." He settled a hand on my thigh. "Will you come with me, Erica?"
Words died on my tongue. Excitement zinged through me and my heartbeats quickened. A road trip with Lachlan? More time with him. Alone. More time for me to fall head over heels in love with him, right before he zipped back to Scotland and forgot all about his American fling. My stomach churned. I couldn't go, anyway. I was legally bound to remain in the state.
He propped one ankle atop the other knee, dropped it again, and drummed his foot on the floor. His hand stroked up and down my thigh. "Say something, please."
"Um…" Though my heart screamed yes-yes-yes, ready to leap into Lachlan's arms, my head took a step back. "I can't."
"But you're on sabbatical from your work."
"Yeah, but I can't just pick up and go. I have —" A criminal trial I'm going to lose. " — obligations."
"Such as?"
I gripped my knees hard. "Off limits."
Yeah, I realized I was being a hypocrite — wanting him to confide in me while I kept my own secrets. I longed to confess my problems to him, to be enfolded in his arms while he vowed everything would be okay, but I couldn't. Too many barriers stood between us. The Great Wall of China stood between us.
His shoulders sagged,
along with his expression. "If you don't want to go, it's fine."
A car horn beeped outside, and I jumped. Lachlan stared at me, his foot drumming faster. I wrung my hands. The urge to pull him into my arms was overpowering, but I beat it back with all my self-control. "I want to go with you, Lachlan. But I just can't. My life is way more complicated than you realize and I know you have zero interest in hearing about it. Which leaves me with no way to explain." I caved my shoulders in as if I might shield myself with them. Fat chance of that. "I can't —" How the hell could I explain without explaining? "I can't leave the area. My reasons are personal."
"Ah." He angled away from me the tiniest bit.
Though he wouldn't meet my gaze, I rested one hand on his arm and pored over every detail of his features, memorizing the faint scar near his right ear, the single gray hair in his left brow, and the tiny, dark flecks in his arctic-blue irises. "Why is this so important to you?"
His gaze shifted to the window, which overlooked the backyard and the park beyond it. Children climbed around on a jungle gym while their mothers watched from a park bench nearby. Lachlan's eyes clouded, his face an impassive mask. When he turned back to me, I couldn't decipher his expression.
Like a firework bursting, his smile returned — the smile. The one that disintegrated panties and brought women to orgasm in an instant. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but his smile did awaken my nether regions and encourage my breasts to tighten.
"I enjoy your company." His gave my hand a quick squeeze. "Nothing more."
The room temperature seemed to plummet at his impersonal gesture and tone. A pang started in my chest, dull at first, but intensifying into a throbbing pain. "Right, no personal involvement. I needed the reminder, thanks."
Lachlan rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. "I'm sorry. It came out all wrong." He dropped his head back and groaned. "Och, you make me lose my mind. I can't drum up the right words when I'm with you." With a rueful smile, he tilted his head toward me until our gazes locked. "My bum's oot the windae now."
