Lethal in a Kilt (Hot Scots Book 7)

by Anna Durand

  "Yes," I groaned. "Oh yes, harder, please, faster, more."

  He tightened his hold on my hips and plowed into me faster, deeper, harder. The angle of his thrusts grew more oblique, putting pressure on parts of me that didn't want to be pressed on.

  "Ow," I said, shifting my hips in an attempt to ease the discomfort. "Ow, Logan, that's—Ah!"

  I kicked his shin.

  He jerked and muttered something that must've been a curse, given his tone of voice, but I didn't recognize the words. Must've been Gaelic, but phrases the American Wives Club hadn't taught me yet.

  "What was that about?" he asked. "You kicked me on purpose."

  "Yeah, you big oaf. Didn't you hear me say ow? You were hurting me."

  "Mhac na galla," he hissed. "I'm sorry."

  That curse I knew. It meant son of a bitch.

  Despite the pain, my body still craved release. Craved it like crazy. My clitoris throbbed, my sex burned, and I couldn't catch my breath. "Please, just get it done."

  "All right." He pulled out. "Turn around. I cannae get the right angle this way."

  I turned to face him.

  He lifted one of my legs and thrust into me. His hips pistoned in time with his grunts. I locked my leg around him, freeing his hands to hold on to my hips while he kept pounding away, the slick glide of his cock pushing me higher and higher toward orgasm again. My head fell back, my mouth open as moans and gasps spilled out of me. My fingers clenched the copier's edge so fiercely it almost hurt. I bucked my hips into his thrusts. So close, almost there. Every muscle in my body started to tense in anticipation of climax. I let out a sharp cry and slapped my palms onto the copier's glass surface.

  Logan punched into me with such force the copier shifted.

  And the lid slammed down on my hands.

  I cried out, though not from the bliss I'd been waiting for. Pain stabbed through my hands.

  Logan froze, then heaved the lid off my hands. "Are you all right?"

  Hissing from the pain, I nodded.

  "Bloody hell," he growled as he pulled out of my body again and clasped my wounded hand in both of his, sandwiching it between his much bigger palms. He ran his hands lightly over mine like he was searching for serious wounds. Seeming satisfied I hadn't broken any bones, he cupped my hand in one palm while with the other he traced slow circles on the back of my hand. "I'm sorry. I've never had anything like this happen before."

  "Let me guess. You always rock the bedroom."

  "Aye." Head down, he rolled his eyes up to look at me. His lips kinked upward the tiniest bit. "Not always in a bedroom, though. This was my first attempt at fucking a woman against a copy machine. Maybe that's why I bollocksed it up so badly."

  "Maybe we just aren't compatible. Sexually." I bit the inside of my bottom lip. "Or in any other way."

  His erection had gone limp. He stripped off the condom and tossed it into the nearby trash can.

  I pushed away from the copier.

  Logan took hold of my hand again, rubbing those slow and gentle circles on the back. "Does it still hurt?"

  "Some, but I'll survive."

  He raised his head, his golden eyes zeroing in on me. "You should see a doctor."

  "No, I'm fine. I used to be a nurse, so I'm qualified to assess my own injury." I studied his face, the tightness etching faint lines across his forehead and around his eyes, and I realized something shocking. Logan was worried. Genuinely worried. About me. I wrestled my hand free of his. "Thank you for your concern. I'm okay, really."

  "If you're sure." He lifted my hand to kiss it in the softest, sweetest way. "I could get you an ice pack."

  What else could I do but gape at him? I couldn't move a muscle, not even to blink. His tenderness both surprised me and gave me an odd pain at the back of my throat. Until a few seconds ago, Logan had shown me nothing but arrogance and lust, with crude humor thrown in for good measure. At this moment, gazing into his worried eyes, I wondered if I might have misjudged him.

  "Do you want the ice?" he asked, his voice as gentle as his hands that still held mine.

  "No," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "I'm okay. The pain is almost gone."

  He kissed my hand again, then released it and walked to the doorway. He grasped the knob as he glanced back at me. "I'll do better next time."

  I intended to tell him there wouldn't be a next time, but my voice refused to function.

  Logan pulled the door partway shut, his body half out of the room. "I'll shut the door in case you need to rub one off. I won't be offended if you do."

  With that, he left and closed the door.

  "Rub one off" meant getting off the solo way. I knew that much, but everything else I'd thought I knew about Logan MacTaggart had crumbled to dust in the past few minutes. How could the man be such an ass ninety-nine percent of the time, only to turn around and be sweet and tender? Most men would've gotten embarrassed and irritated if they mucked up sex. Some wouldn't care as long as they got their rocks off. I'd assumed Logan would fall into the latter category. Instead, he occupied a category all his own.

  I had no frigging idea what to make of him.

  Our encounter had started out so hot, so good, then...disaster. Was fate warning me not to get involved with Logan? I'd never believed in fate. I still didn't. Like I'd told Logan, we simply weren't compatible.

  But at first, when he'd been thrusting into me, it had felt so damn good to have his thick cock inside me. And that kiss last night. Holy heaven, it had been the best kiss I'd had in years.

  We were not compatible. End of story.

  My body thrummed at the memory of both encounters.

  I groaned. Maybe I did need to rub one off.

  Chapter Five

  Logan

  After the disaster in the copy room, I meant to wait for Serena at her desk. I couldn't help myself, though. Would she rub one off to relieve her needs? I lingered by the closed door, listening. After a few minutes, when I was about to give up and go away, I heard heavy breathing punctuated by the occasional grunt. I pressed my ear to the door. No, I really shouldn't be eavesdropping on Serena while she made herself come, but I couldn't force myself to walk away.

  The feel of her body surrounding my cock...It had been intoxicating. She'd been so hot and so wet. Serena was the sexiest, most erotic woman I'd ever fucked. Or tried to fuck. Mhac na galla. "Son of a bitch" did seem like an appropriate curse since Serena was a bitch. Most of the time.

  But in that copy room, with our bodies crashing together, Serena hadn't seemed like a she-devil. She'd been soft and willing, eager and hungry, begging me to take her harder and faster.

  Inside the copy room, Serena's heavy breathing became panting. She let out a strangled cry.

  Silence.

  With my ear to the door, I waited for more noises, but she seemed to have finished herself off. I wanted to be the one making her come. I'd wrecked that, hadn't I? Now she thought we were sexually incompatible. Somehow, some way, I had to prove she was wrong.

  The door swung inward.

  I stumbled and grabbed for the jamb to keep from colliding with Serena.

  She looked startled for a second, but then her mouth tightened. "What are you doing out here? Spying on me?"

  I opened my mouth to deny it, but realized I had no reason to pretend. Leaning against the jamb, I crossed my arms over my chest. "Yes. Was it good for you?"

  "The fantasy of you is so much better than the real thing."

  She must've hoped I'd be insulted, my manly pride wounded. But I heard what she'd said between those tart words. "Ahhh, so you fantasize about me when you rub one off."

  "I—" She lifted her chin, straightening her skirt that was slightly askew. "Only because you were just in there with me, trying to do something you clearly have no idea how to do."

  "What might that be?"

  "Showing a woman a good time."

  I swung forward, penning her t
o the opposite side of the jamb with my hands above her head. "You have no concept of the kinds of pleasure I could give you. We had one bad moment. That's all it was, and you know it. Next time you beg me to fuck you, I'll do it right. No copy machines involved."

  "There won't be a next time."

  "Of course there will." I skated my lips over hers, gratified by her sharp intake of breath. "And next time, you'll tell me the real thing is better than a fantasy."

  "I would never say such a thing."

  "We'll see."

  I licked at the seam of her lips, loving the way she tasted. The flavor was beyond description, but it made my groin tighten and my breaths shorten. Why did she taste so good? When I'd been devouring her mouth last night, the flavor of her had made me drunk with lust. I couldn't think straight, see straight, or stop myself from plundering every corner of her mouth while wondering what other parts of her might taste like. I wanted to shove my head between her legs and sample her desire.

  Maybe I could in a different way. Only a moment ago, she'd been pleasuring herself with those long, elegant fingers. Though we hadn't spent a great deal of time together, I'd noted a number of facts about Serena Carpenter. For one, she was right-handed. Women most often used their dominant hands to masturbate.

  I captured her right hand, lifting it to sniff her skin. The scent of her arousal lingered on her flesh, a musky, heady scent all her own. No two women smelled the same, but the aroma of Serena affected my body in ways no other woman's could.

  "What are you doing?" she demanded.

  "Tasting you." I slid four of her fingers into my mouth and sucked, rewarded by her soft little gasp and the way her eyes widened a fraction. I released her fingers one by one. "Mm, you taste as good as I thought you would."

  "My skin does not taste good."

  "Ah, but it does." I held her hand to her groin. "Your fingers taste like your cream."

  Though she maintained a haughty expression, her cheeks were speckled with a delicate shade of pink. She caught her upper lip with her teeth. "How would you have any idea what I taste like? We barely had sex, and all you cared about was getting your dick in the right orifice."

  Her claim stung a little, but I'd had far worse insults aimed at me over the years. Besides, I knew she was lying. Another thing I'd learned about Serena was that when she lied, she bit down on her upper lip right before she spoke the untruth.

  And she'd done that a split second before announcing all I cared about was getting my dick inside her.

  I raised her hand to my mouth again and gave the tip of each finger a slow, sensuous lick. "You're a liar, Serena. You wanted me as much as I wanted you, and you couldn't wait for foreplay any more than I could. The second I suggested sex, all you wanted was my cock inside you."

  She bit her upper lip again, about to spew another falsehood, and even opened her mouth in preparation for speaking.

  Then she hoisted her chin to glare at me over the bridge of her nose. "You are the most arrogant, obnoxious, disgusting, vile, loathsome man on the face of the earth."

  I chuckled. "Have you memorized a thesaurus? I'm sure you can dredge up a few more synonyms for disgusting to lob at me."

  She exhaled a sharp huff and stomped off down the hall.

  Deciding she needed time to consider what we'd just done, or almost done, I headed to my new office on the first floor. I had a secretary, a perky young woman who dressed like an uptight librarian but acted like an overly cheerful college student. Delilah Williams and I had spoken for a grand total of thirty seconds during Serena's whirlwind tour of the building. Now, Delilah smiled brightly at me.

  Evan had jumped the gun on hiring my secretary. Delilah would have nothing to do, since no one would be calling me or visiting me at my office yet.

  "Mr. MacTaggart," she said in her cheery voice, "welcome back. Are you starting work today?"

  "Yes." I paused at her desk. "Call me Logan, please. I don't care for formality, and it will get confusing if you call both me and Evan Mr. MacTaggart."

  "Sure, I get it." She blushed a little. "Is there anything I can help you out with, Mist—Logan?"

  "Thank you, no. Not yet." I needed to figure out what the bloody hell my job was and how on earth to do it. Delilah couldn't help me with that. "I'll let you know when I need something."

  Delilah nodded.

  I started to walk away, but hesitated. "Are you Canadian, Delilah?"

  "My family moved to America when I was sixteen. How did you know?"

  "It's the way you pronounce certain words."

  As I headed into my office and shut the door, I wondered why Evan got a mature executive assistant, but I got a lass who looked like she'd graduated from college yesterday. Delilah was bonnie, but not my type. Evan got to admire Serena Carpenter's perfect erse and kissable lips all day long. Not that he gave a whit about her looks. Evan had eyes only for his wife.

  I dropped into the leather executive chair behind my desk. Large windows offered a view of downtown Carrefour. Since Evan had built the tallest structure in the city, like any self-respecting billionaire would, I had a panoramic view that extended all the way out to the hinterlands. Though I gazed out the windows, I didn't see the view. My mind rewound to the time I'd spent in the copy room with Serena, and I relived every sensation, from her wet heat around my cock to the smell of her hair and the sounds of her soft gasps and hungry little moans.

  My phone rang.

  I glanced at the landline phone on my desk, but then realized it was my mobile ringing in my pocket. Digging it out, I answered. "Aye."

  "Lohhhhgannnn," a feminine voice purred into the phone. "You're being a bad boy, aren't you? Wish I may, wish I might, make Logan MacTaggart take a wife."

  "Excuse me? Donnae be casting your rubbish spells over me, Isla. I'm immune to witchcraft." I swung my legs up to brace my feet on the desk, ankles crossed. "Besides, the words might and wife don't rhyme."

  "Sure they do. It's called assonance. Rhyming vowels, Logie."

  I rolled my eyes, but she couldn't see it. Or maybe she could, with her witchy vision. "Did you ring me for a grammar lesson?"

  "No," she said with a delicate, almost ethereal laugh. "I'm checking in on my baby brother. A little birdie flew into my bedroom this morning and whispered all your secrets to me."

  Serena thought I was strange. She ought to meet my sisters, the Witches of Ballachulish.

  "My secrets," I said, "are covered by the Official Secrets Act. That little birdie will need to be executed immediately for treason."

  Isla laughed again. "After all these years, how can you still not believe in magic? It's the power of the human mind and the eternal soul. Wicca is very popular these days. Step into the twenty-first century, Logie."

  I growled under my breath. "Would you cease and desist calling me that? I hated it when I was a wee laddie, and I hate it even more now."

  "You are so uptight," she said in a chastising tone. "Serena has you tied up in double knots, doesn't she? Why donnae ye just shag her and get it over with?"

  Well, I'd tried...

  I froze, gripping the phone tighter. "How do you know about Serena?"

  "Witchy, witchy powers." She lowered her voice to a melodramatic whisper. "Are you starting to believe after all these years?"

  "Absolutely not. You, Kirsty, and Elspeth do not have mystical powers." I grunted. "Though the lot of you do have the uncanny ability to annoy me."

  "All right, have it your way." She paused, and I could hear her disapproval in her voice when she said, "By the by, your way is very boring and not at all fun. I spoke to Keely and Evan yesterday. They filled me in on you and Serena. I did your horoscopes, and you two are perfectly aligned in the zodiac. Of course, the best method for determining your true love quotient is by reading tea leaves, but you would need to swirl the tea for that to work. Although you could take a picture of the tea leaves and text it to me..."

  Tea leaves. Zo
diacs. Aye, this had been my life ever since my three sisters had become fascinated with Wicca. Ten years of listening to them prattle on about auras and spirit guides and whatever other nonsense they read about in a book. I loved my sisters, but they were the barmiest of the barmy.

  I had Evan and Keely to thank for Isla's call. Once my sisters got an idea in their heads, especially if it pertained to my personal life, they would not let go of it.

  "You'll see," Isla said. "Soon, you won't be able to deny that Serena is your one true love."

  "Sorry to burst your bubble, gràidh, but Serena hates me. I'm not fond of her either."

  "Ohhhhh, that's no impediment. Once you get to know each other better, you'll see the real Serena and she will see the real you, our sweet and snuggly Logie."

  There was no point in reminding her I disliked that nickname.

  "I was a spy, Isla," I said. "I've killed men. Sweet and snuggly is not an appropriate description of me."

  "Donnae forget I knew you before all of that. My sweet little brother is still in there."

  "Was there a legitimate reason for this call? I have work to do."

  I had no fucking idea what that work was, but I needed to get on with figuring that out.

  And I needed to shut my sister up.

  "Oh, Logan," she cooed, "you are so pent up these days. Cousin Rory used to be the one with a caber up his erse, but now it's you. Let Serena dislodge that thing with a rollicking shag."

  I covered my face with my free hand. "Yes, I enjoy talking about my sex life with you almost as much as I enjoy your palm readings. That means I don't like it at all."

  "When did you become a prude? Honestly, Ma and Da always encouraged us to talk openly about sex."

  Too openly at times. I really had not needed to know when my sisters lost their virginity and whether they had liked it.

  "Ma and Da," I said in the calmest tone I could muster, "meant that we shouldn't be ashamed to ask them questions about sex. They did not intend for my sisters to divulge every last shred of information about their sex lives to me."

  She said nothing for a few seconds, giving me the false hope she had nothing left to say. "Logie, are you impotent? Is that the issue keeping you from admitting you like Serena?"