Cassie couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop staring back at him any more than she could stop the second orgasm that ripped through her, as sudden and unexpected as summer lightning. She screamed, and he covered her mouth with his, absorbing the sound. His body jerked and a growl erupted from his throat while he pumped into her one fierce, final time.
Spent, he collapsed against her, his breath coming in harsh pants that tickled the hair at her temples. Several heartbeats later he eased back, a roguish grin breaking across his handsome face. “Ye did well,” he said, the last word curving playfully around his Gaelic tongue.
“I didn’t know I was doing this for a grade,” Cassie scoffed, though his praise was a burst of sunshine blooming inside her chest. It had been a long time for her, after all.
“Ye’re a smart arse.” Logan shifted, pinching her backside as he withdrew.
He turned away from her to deal with the condom, and Cassie realized her “smart arse” was propped on top of a hotel desk, her panties were nowhere in sight, and her dress was hiked up to her belly button. “Oh my God.”
“A religious experience, was it then?” He teased, tossing a smug glance over his shoulder.
“With the devil, maybe,” she said, feeling utterly debauched and a bit depraved as she scooted off the desk. She spied the box of condoms on the floor at her feet, contents spilling across the hotel carpet. Yep, definitely depraved.
Channeling the delicious sense of naughtiness, Cassie kicked the box toward Logan. “How about we try that again?” she suggested, pulling her dress over her head and tossing it aside. “But actually naked this time, and maybe on an actual bed.”
* * *
Something was poking her. Cassie shifted and rolled on to her side, the crisp hotel sheets sliding across her naked skin.
Wait, I’m naked? Her eyes snapped open. The soft gray-white light of very early morning filtered through the sheer curtains. The outlines of the room’s furniture appeared as hazy as her head felt. She lay still and stared straight ahead. After a few moments of squinting, the shape of Bonnie’s bed came into focus and Cassie realized it was empty. No way Bonnie got up before me. Girlfriend might be the last to fall asleep, but she’s also the last to wake up at every slumber party we’ve ever had in the history of forever.
Then two things happened. Cassie noticed Bonnie’s bed was still made, which meant her friend hadn’t slept in it, and whatever had been poking her before returned, now a distinct pressure against her bare backside. Her entire body stiffened as she mentally hit replay on the events of last night.
Oh, good God. I slept with him. And by slept, her brain promptly reminded her with a blurry slide show on fast-forward, she meant, had wild, hot, better-than-epic-romance-novel sex. Yesterday morning she’d been starting to think she’d packed the box of condoms for no reason … but this morning … this morning she was very, very glad she had.
Cautiously, she rolled over. Sure enough, Logan’s head was on the pillow next to hers. He was on his side facing her, and the curve of his naked shoulder rose and fell in time with his deep slow breaths. Not a snorer. I’ll put that in the plus column.
Also a plus? He was freaking gorgeous. His hands were tucked beneath his cheek in a pose that could almost be described as angelic. She watched him, enchanted by how, even in sleep, the devilish slant of his eyebrows and teasing curve of his mouth still held an element of mischief. Asleep, Logan looked like a little boy, innocent but impish, the kind who would steal an extra cookie and then charm his way out of a scolding. The rest of him, though, was all man. He had been right—ridiculously full of himself—but right. Nothing about his body could be considered boyish, and sure as hell not innocent.
Her attention drifted toward the spot where the stark white of the sheet met the warm golden glow of his skin. He wasn’t really tan, but he wasn’t pasty either. More like … Cassie’s lips quirked as the image came to her … a perfect piece of toast.
“What’s got you smiling so early in the day?”
The low timbre of his voice vibrated through her pillow and she looked up to meet his gaze, her smile growing wider to match his. “Toast.”
Logan laughed, a deep, rich rumble, husky with the remnants of sleep. “Are ye hungry, then?” He leaned closer, and the thing that had prodded Cassie awake in the first place now pressed against her belly, which had gone all fluttery at the sound of his laugh. Other parts of her started to wake up.
“Maybe.” She slipped her hand under the sheet and let her fingers travel down the warm space between their bodies.
“I dinna think you’ll be finding your breakfast down there.”
“Oh, I bet I’ll find something to satisfy me.” Her hand bumped up against him. Apparently, his brogue wasn’t the only thing that got thicker in the morning. She could barely wrap her fingers around him, and the hot hard feel of him triggered a desperate sense of need to have him inside her, the same as last night.
While many of the details of what they had done together were fuzzy, that part she remembered clearly. The sense of wanting him so badly nothing else mattered. Cassie slid her hand up his length and back down again. He groaned deep in his throat. Again, her body responded to the sound.
But then she heard another sound that froze her in place. Her hand still gripping him, Cassie met Logan’s eyes and held her breath, listening. After a moment, the sound came again, a knock rapping sharply on her hotel room door. She considered ignoring it, considered ignoring anything and everything that wasn’t Logan. He seemed to be considering the same thing, his gaze drifting down to where she continued to hold him, then back up to her face, one devil’s brow quirked in question.
Bonnie’s voice answered for Cassie, calling her name through the door. At the buzz of a key card sliding in the lock, Cassie let go of Logan and rolled over. She looked at him, sprawled naked across the sheets, looked down at herself, equally naked, and panicked.
“Um…” Not ready to handle the barrage of questions the tableau they presented was sure to prompt, and desperately in need of a few minutes alone to gather her thoughts, Cassie jumped out of bed and raced for the bathroom. “Be right back.”
* * *
Left to face their morning visitor alone while bare-arsed and sporting a painful hard-on, Logan hastily covered himself with a pillow. At least the room was separated from the door by a short, narrow entryway, saving him from being on display to any passersby in the hall outside. The door clicked shut, and a moment later the redhead who’d had a drink with him and Cassie at the bar last night appeared around the corner.
“Bonnie, right?”
The girl nodded mutely, blue eyes wide as saucers as she stared at him. He quickly glanced down to make sure the pillow hadn’t slipped. Gritting his teeth and putting on his best smile, after all Mam did always say you’re never fully dressed without one, Logan bid the lass a good morning.
She mumbled something in return and backed up, stumbling over the shoes and clothes scattered on the floor before disappearing around the corner again. At the sound of the door closing, Logan rolled onto his side and pressed his face to the mattress, muffling a growl of frustrated laughter.
A few minutes later, Cassie emerged from the loo. Her chestnut hair was piled high on her head, providing a lovely view of her neck and shoulders, all freshly scrubbed and deliciously pink. She was wrapped in a towel knotted just above her breasts. He’d like to undo that knot and reveal more of that dewy skin, and he’d really like to finish what they’d started earlier.
“The shower’s all yours,” she said, nodding toward the door.
He considered asking her to join him, but she probably wanted a few minutes alone to get dressed. Besides, he was feeling a wee clatty after working up a pretty good sweat last night and could do with a scrub himself.
The Caldy earned its posh reputation. The loo was a study in luxury, the shower sporting a series of high-powered jets that could sandblast the skin off one’s arse if turned up too high.
Logan wrapped a fluffy towel around his hips and used another to wipe steam from the mirror.
The air was infused with the scent of the lass’s soap and shampoo, and he popped the cap and took a sniff. The shampoo smelled nice enough, but it didn’t compare to the natural scent of the woman herself.
A scent now burned in his brain, along with the taste and feel of her. He’d slept with girls on the first date a time or two, aye, but he’d never had an experience like last night. Never wanted to get out of his clothes and into a woman so fast or so bad. He’d sure as hell never jumped into bed—or Christ, on top of a desk—with a woman he’d literally just met.
Logan shook his head of wet hair, sending droplets of water spraying everywhere. He wiped the counter down, smiling. When they were younger, Janet used to call him Red Rover and would get mad as a hornet whenever he’d come out of the bath shaking like a puppy after a swim.
Janet. Oh, Christ.
He’d completely forgotten about the contract, forgotten about the telly deal, forgotten Shenanigans completely. If he didn’t come through with that release form, his sister wasn’t going to just be mad as a hornet, she was going to kill him. Janet would say he’d been thinking with his willy—and she’d be right. He was surprised she hadn’t called him a few times already … and then realized with a sinking feeling in his gut, she probably had.
His phone, always on silent so not to muck up filming, was in the pocket of his jeans, which, along with the rest of his clothes, lay scattered about the hotel room. Logan opened the door and was met with the sound of soft feminine humming. On the other side of the room, Cassie stood in front of the desk, the desk he’d fucked her on last night, looking in the mirror as she twisted her hair into a glossy braid.
Logan had liked how she looked in her blue jeans yesterday morning, and had loved the soft clingy dress from last night, but the pretty wee number she had on now was taking the top spot in his affections. Well, maybe second. After naked. She wore a bright, flirty sundress, loose and playful around her legs, but nipping in at her waist and hugging her tits. Abruptly, he began searching for his pants.
“Looking for these?” Cassie asked, toeing his jeans out from behind a chair. She bent down to hook her finger through a belt loop. As she leaned forward, her braid swung over her shoulder. The dress was tied at the nape of her neck, and the ends of the dress ties trailed down her back.
Logan stepped toward her. He wanted to stand behind her and run his fingertips up her smooth, bare skin. Untie the bow at her nape and push her dress down, filling his hands with her breasts as he bent her over that same bloody desk and pushed into her from behind—
“Here.” She stood and swung the jeans toward him.
“Aye, thanks.” He swallowed hard and grabbed his pants, retreating to the bathroom before the Caldy hotel’s generously proportioned towel was unable to hide what was going on beneath the fluffy fabric. Sure, Cassie had seen his own generous proportions last night (and got a handful this morning before her roommate almost got an eyeful), but he doubted she’d appreciate an impromptu full monty.
Logan quickly pulled his jeans on, wincing as he buttoned up over the part of him suffering from a serious case of one-track mind. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and winced again. Three missed calls from Janet. He slumped against the wall and started scrolling through his sister’s dozen or so texts.
* * *
Cassie watched Logan retreat, enjoying the play of muscle in his back and arms. She had felt those arms around her last night, traced the strong lines of sinew connecting biceps and triceps as he’d hovered above her. Dug her nails into the taut skin of his shoulders when he’d kneed her thighs apart and …
A residual quiver rippled through her. Cassie glanced at the mangled box on the bedside table before searching out the crumpled foil wrappers on the floor. Yes, wrappers—as in plural, multiple, more than one. She giggled like an idiot. There had been multiples of another kind last night as well.
As she bent to pick up the condom wrappers, she recalled a conversation she’d once overheard between her mother and some of her mother’s colleagues at a dinner party. She’d been thirteen at the time, and aside from being scandalized her mom would discuss sex, let alone be having any, Cassie clearly remembered one of the women in the group, a sweet home ec teacher whose classroom was decorated with an elaborate collection of garden gnomes, raise her wine glass and declare with ringing authority, “It’s not the quantity, my dear, but the quality.”
Last night Logan had scored high on both counts. Cassie had to give credit where credit was due. And to concede, perhaps, that there was a difference between men and boys, and it wasn’t just the size of their toys. Though there’d been a noticeable difference in that department as well.
Not that she’d had bad sex before, she’d had perfectly nice sex … and between the three boyfriends she’d had it with, she’d even managed some perfectly agreeable orgasms. But nothing could have prepared her for the raw need she’d experienced last night. The desperate desire to have Logan on her, in her, again, and again, and—Cassie grabbed the third wrapper off the floor—again. She’d wanted a foreign fling, and damn, had she got one. It had taken until almost the end of her vacation, true, but what was that saying about good things coming to those who wait?
“You’re not planning to put those in a scrapbook, are you?”
Cassie jumped, sending the wrappers flying. She scowled at Delaney, whose face peered around the corner of the entryway hall. “Ever hear of knocking?”
“I did knock.” Delaney stepped into the room. “And before you ask, I also listened at the door first for any hint of sexy times.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Says the girl who leaves condom wrappers all over the place.” Delaney gathered up the wrappers and tossed them in the trash. “Bonnie sent me over to check on you.”
“Was that her at the door earlier?”
“Yep. Made a very hasty exit. I think you scarred her for life.”
Cassie groaned. Damn those Edinburgh Brambles. And damn Logan Reid. The man was too sexy for his own good.
Delaney surveyed the tumbled bed sheets, the trail of clothes, and the ripped box on the nightstand. “Speaking of making an exit, where is your Scottish Studmuffin? Did he head for the hills, er, highlands, already?”
Before Cassie could reply, Logan emerged from the bathroom and answered for her. “Not yet. No.”
Scottish Studmuffin fit the bill and then some. He’d put his jeans on, but was shirtless, drops of water from his still-damp hair beading on his bare pecs and sliding down over his rippled abs in decadent temptation.
“Who needs a cup of coffee with you to wake up to?” Delaney chirped, eyeing the broad expanse of dripping naked male chest with objective appreciation. “Me, that’s who.” She turned to Cassie and waggled her eyebrows. “We’re having breakfast downstairs. Join us when you’re ready.” She pulled the men’s dress shirt from where it lay strewn across a chair and offered it to Logan. “You too, beefcake. You look like you’ve worked up quite the appetite.”
Before Cassie could go after Delaney for that saucy dig, her friend was out the door, strawberry-blond ponytail swinging jauntily behind her. Cassie turned to face Logan, suddenly shy as she watched him do up the buttons on his shirt. How did one go about handling the morning after a one-night stand?
That’s what this had been, right? She’d never had one before. And while she might have liked to spend a few more nights exploring this particular piece of Scotland, she and her friends were scheduled to hop the train to London early this evening.
“So,” she said, pausing as he began to undo the buttons on his fly. She swallowed hard, stealing a glance at the box on the end table before realizing he had only undone his pants so he could tuck his shirt in. Oh. Okay, then.
“So,” Logan echoed, sitting in the large leather chair and resting one ankle on his knee as he rolled a sock on his foot. He finished putting on
his other sock and dropped his foot to the floor, leaning forward, rubbing his hands on his jeans.
Was he feeling as awkward and unsure as she was? Cassie sat on the edge of the bed across from Logan. She hadn’t planned out exactly how she’d go about scoring her one-night stand, and she definitely hadn’t given any thought to what she’d do with him the morning after. She swung her legs and twisted her braid around her finger, again wondering what to say after a night of lots (and lots) of amazing sex. Thanks?
“Would you like to join us for breakfast?” she finally asked.
“I am a wee famished,” he confessed, hungry eyes roaming over her legs.
She began to kick her feet faster.
Logan reached out and took hold of one of her ankles, drawing her foot onto his lap. Immediately, heat sparked up her calf. She’d planned to wear a pair of sandals today and had left her feet bare. Logan pressed the pad of his thumb against the arch of her foot and made a slow circle. Cassie melted, leaning back, elbows sinking into the mattress. He pulled her other foot onto his lap and began to massage that one as well.
“I like that.” She sighed, closing her eyes, his touch a delicious blend of calming and enticing, relaxing yet arousing.
“Aye?” he asked, and wrapped his fingers around her ankle, kneading the tender skin.
“Aye,” she echoed, opening her eyes. She liked the way her body looked in his hands, liked how his long, strong fingers made her feel feminine and delicate.
“I like it too,” he said, and trailed one fingertip up the line of her shinbone.
Getting Hot with the Scot--A Sometimes in Love Novel Page 6
