Dangerous in a Kilt (Hot Scots Book 1)

by Anna Durand

  He shrugged. "I'll buy you one."

  His matter-of-fact tone rankled. I crossed my arms over my belly, frowning. "I won't be your kept woman."

  "Kept?" He opened his mouth but didn't speak, shaking his head. After a few seconds, he spread his hands, palms out. "The dress will be a gift, nothing more."

  I eyed him sideways. "Accepting gifts from rich men in exchange for sex is the definition of a kept woman."

  He drew back as if I'd slapped him. "It's not in exchange for anything. You're worried about not fitting in at the restaurant, I offered to buy you a new dress." He stretched out an arm to drape it over the back of my seat, pitching toward me. "Stop acting like you're a prostitute. We have nothing to be ashamed of. Do we?"

  Looking at him, I couldn't help feeling he wanted — needed — me to reassure him. I supposed this was the norm these days. Casual sex. Pretending we didn't care. Neither of us seemed very good at upholding the charade, or maybe I was indulging in wishful thinking again.

  I rested my head against the seat and swiveled my face toward him. "No, we're not doing anything wrong."

  He bent closer, erasing the gap between us, his lips within kissing distance. His free hand landed on my thigh, fingers splayed over it. "Let me buy you a dress. Please."

  "Are you trying to impress me? With haute cuisine and haute couture to match?" My butt lifted off the seat, my mouth open on a silent "oh," when his fingers plunged between my thighs and molded to my groin. "Honestly, Lachlan, I'm not impressed by money."

  "Not trying to impress you." He repositioned his hand above my head to lazily caress my hair with his fingertips. A tingling started in my scalp, spreading down through my whole body. He inched his fingers up my inner thigh, trapped between my legs. "I want to earn you."

  Earn? What on earth did that mean? I couldn't ponder it for long, because his hot palm cupped my sex through my jeans, and desire jolted through me. While his hand stoked my fire, his expression was almost pleading. Why, I couldn't fathom, but he needed me to let him do this for me. "I give."

  "What?"

  "Please buy me a dress." I laid my hand atop his, pushing it tighter into my groin. "If you insist."

  He groaned deep in his throat, stroking me with his fingertips. "Thank you."

  "Don't thank me yet. You haven't seen the bill."

  "Anything for you."

  I gripped the edges of my seat as his fingers tormented me through my jeans. So close, yet so far from where I wanted them. "Why are you so determined to have me spend your money?"

  His fingers stilled. He watched me for a long moment, then lifted his hand to my cheek, dipping his head closer, until our lips nearly touched. "Because it matters to you, having the right clothing for the restaurant. I want you comfortable, not embarrassed." His gaze skimmed down my body, bouncing over my breasts and hips, pausing at the apex of my thighs, and then back up again to my face. One corner of his mouth curved up. "Though I say you'd stun every man in the place wearing exactly what you've got on now."

  I rolled my eyes. "You are so full of it."

  "You don't credit yourself enough."

  "Nerdy girls don't stun — "

  He crushed his mouth to mine, silencing my protest. Silencing the world. I heard nothing except his heavy breaths and the pounding of my heart, felt nothing except his fingers diving into my hair to tilt my head back, granting him deeper access. His tongue plundered my mouth, and I hungrily took of his, my senses overwhelmed by his taste, his scent, his everything.

  Lachlan ended the kiss, but kept his lips a hair's breadth from mine. "Never call yourself a nerd again. Never." He ghosted his mouth over mine, the faint contact sizzling heat over my skin from head to toe. "You are perfect, mo leannan."

  "What are you calling me now?"

  He jerked his head up, eyes unblinking. "Mo leannan."

  "And what does that mean?"

  For a few long seconds, he just sat there, motionless. At last, his stony expression crumbled away. He knotted his fingers in my hair, caught my lower lip between his teeth, and let it slide out little by little. His tongue lapped at my lip until it popped free of his teeth, and by then, my body thrummed with desire. He kissed his way up my cheek, leaving a damp, hot trail on my skin. Into my ear, he murmured, "Doesn't matter."

  Maybe mo leannan was the Gaelic equivalent of "hey, babe." He wouldn't want to admit that, even to his American fling. "You're not going to tell me?"

  In lieu of responding, he nibbled on my earlobe, then suckled it until I couldn't remember what on earth we'd been talking about. Without warning, he drew back, facing the steering wheel, and cranked the key in the ignition. "Tell me where to go for this new dress you need."

  The nonchalance in his demeanor and tone of voice belied his state of arousal, evidence by the bulge in his pants. Okay, if he wanted to play it cool, so would I. Relaxing into my seat, I let my knees fall open. "You're paying, the choice is yours."

  He grinned. "The most expensive shop in town then."

  Chapter Seventeen

  I leaned back against the door to my house, inhaling the cool night air, scented with roses. The door chilled my skin, even the parts of me covered by the brand-new, outrageously expensive dress I wore. Lachlan stood poised before me, bathed in the glow of the porch light, his spiffy suit accentuating his muscular build in a subtle way, the charcoal color complimenting his skin tone. His eyes glimmered in the low light. The sight of him, all elegance and masculinity, made my fingers curl with the need to fondle and lick him everywhere.

  "Dinner was amazing," I said. We'd enjoyed the lushest, most expensive dinner I could've imagined, while ensconced in a shadowy booth. Lachlan plied me with champagne, but I refrained my getting sloshed, despite his insistence I should indulge myself. He'd spoken those words — "indulge yourself, mo leannan" — with enough smoky innuendo to set my libido aflame. But getting drunk would dull my senses and I planned to immerse myself in every moment of our arrangement.

  He slanted toward me to brace one hand on the door frame beside me. A whiff of Lachlan-scented air whooshed over me. When he ducked his head to my mine, the nearness of him set off a flurry of goose bumps on my arms. His voice was soft and husky, in the way that liquefied my brain and demolished my self-control. "You are so bloody beautiful."

  "The dress makes the woman," I said, glancing down at my feet. The only other man who'd flattered me this way had turned out to be conning me. I couldn't believe Lachlan would do that, but I'd lost all confidence in my lie detection skills. And yet, his words never failed to stir my desires, both sexual and emotional.

  Just for tonight, I'd let myself bask in his compliments. I'd try to. Try really hard.

  "You've got it the wrong way round," he said, coiling a lock of my hair around his finger, sweeping the lock's tip across my lips. The bristly yet soft sensation excited my every nerve. "You make the dress, gràidh."

  He let go of my hair to slip his finger under the slender strap of my dress, whisking it up and down, his skin on mine like a live wire crackling electricity over me. My breaths grew shallower, faster. I flicked my gaze down to my dress, the deep emerald shade of the silk, the plunging neckline, the slit that extended from the hem just above my knees halfway up the side of my thigh. Designers' names meant nothing to me, since I'd never bought a blouse that cost more than forty dollars, but the sales lady had told me the name as if I should be impressed. Damned if I could remember it now.

  "I'm positive," Lachlan murmured, his finger sliding up and down, his flesh hot against mine, "you'd make a paper sack look seductive."

  He switched his finger to the neckline, skimming it along the slope of my breast. Heat rushed over me. When my gaze inexorably dropped to follow the track of his finger, as it dipped down into the valley between my breasts, I was shocked to see I wasn't glowing bright red. Fire raced over my flesh and flared hot inside me, but somehow it didn't show.

  With a long, sighing groan, he lifted his finger from my breasts to
catch my chin with it, encouraging me to meet his gaze. He rubbed his lips over mine, his tongue darted out to taste them, and another, deeper groan rumbled in his throat.

  I yawned. Tried to stop it, but my jaw split open and the yawn erupted out of me. Totally sexy, Erica, you're a real vamp. I grimaced and clutched my hands over my stomach. "Sorry."

  "Don't be." Lachlan cupped my cheek, resting his forehead on mine. "We've had a long day — wonderful, but long — and you're jeeked." He moved away, his shoulder propped against the door frame, and swept a hand over his eyes. "I am too."

  Struggling and failing to restrain my smile, I said, "Jeeked means exhausted, I'm guessing."

  "Aye." He reached out to caress my cheek, his smile rife with things I shouldn't be seeing, things like affection and — Nope, I would not go any further with that thought. Self-destruction was in my past. Probably.

  I dug my keys out of the matching emerald clutch, studded with real emeralds, Lachlan had insisted on buying me. Shoving the key in the lock, I hesitated and peered over my shoulder at him. "Wanna come in?"

  He went stone-still, his eyes boring into me. "Are you sure?"

  "Uh-huh." I unlocked the door and pushed it inward. "I'm not that tired."

  My assertion lacked conviction, thanks to the giant yawn that punctuated it.

  Lachlan's big, warm hand settled on my back, between my shoulder blades. Even the innocent touch had my body readying, but instead of offering up his usual carnal enticements, he said, "I would love to come in, but no sex tonight. You're far too tired."

  Frankly, I was relieved. My body longed for a good night's rest. But I had to ask. "Losing interest already?"

  "Never." His hand skated up to my neck and his fingers gently kneaded my nape, unleashing the weariness I'd fought all the way home, determined not to fall asleep in the car. He kissed my cheek. "I plan on debauching you plenty tomorrow. But for tonight, I'd be honored just to sleep beside you."

  Honored? He'd said that last night when he invited me to dinner, but no man had ever told me he'd be honored to take me anywhere or to sleep with me, without sex. While I tried to wrap my brain around his claim, I shuffled into the house. Lachlan followed and shut the door.

  A furry body sailed through the air at us.

  Casey lunged right past me to tackle Lachlan, who stumbled but stayed upright. He ruffled the dog's hair with vigorous strokes and babbled to Casey like any good dog owner would. Which brought up a question. "Do you have a dog at home?"

  "No, but I always had them growing up." He straightened, and Casey finally deigned to greet me with a slap of his slimy tongue on my hand. Lachlan scratched the back of his neck, eyes averted. "My wife did not like animals."

  My hands fisted at the mention of a wife. She must be The Bitch, the one who'd ruined my first intimate encounter with Lachlan. I itched to ask more about her, but he didn't want to talk about it. I'd promised not to pry. Rats.

  Casey nuzzled my hand, whimpering and wagging his tail.

  "He wants a snack," I told Lachlan, and headed for the kitchen with man and beast in tow. Lachlan watched with amusement as I fed Casey raw chicken gizzards, to the pooch's delight. When I'd finished, and my fingers were thoroughly slimy and possibly toxic, Lachlan smirked at me.

  "Planning to touch me with those hands?" he asked, pointing at my contaminated fingers.

  I wiggled them in the air. "Yep. Still want to sleep with me?"

  He grinned. "That's why God made antiseptic soap. Besides, I've been all over that body several times, in the most intimate ways."

  As the blood rushed to my cheeks, I turned away from him to scrub my hands in the sink. When Presley had witnessed me feeding Casey gizzards, he'd refused to let get within three feet of him until I'd taken a shower. Seriously. A shower. When I'd pointed out he ate sushi — raw fish — he told that was different. Raw chicken, raw fish, it all sounded slimy and icky to me.

  I heard the shooshing of his footsteps a second before Lachlan came up behind me to take hold of my shoulders. He perched his chin on the crown of my head, while his hands coasted down my arms with deliberate languor, awakening the fine hairs on my skin and triggering a gossamer tingling that spread all over my body. His hands glided down, down, until they encircled my wrists. He paused there with his thumbs on my pulse points, his body firm but yielding against my back. He moved his hands to envelop mine.

  Our fingers interlaced, he nuzzled my hair. "We'll risk the germs together. Eh, lass?"

  "That's a strange thing to say to a woman you're trying to seduce."

  A chuckle vibrated through his chest and into me. "Told you, I only want to sleep together tonight." He rotated our joined hands so the warm tap water sluiced over them, rinsing away the soap. "Besides, I've already seduced you."

  The splattering of water on the chrome sink, the gushing of the stream spurting out of the tap, it all had me flashing back to yesterday morning when I'd fantasized about Lachlan in the shower. My breasts tightened, the nipples hardening into taut peaks.

  His eyes glazed over as they locked on my breasts. "In the morning, I promise to ravish you with multiple orgasms. Tonight… "

  He scooped me up into his arms and strode out of the kitchen, through the living room, straight down the hallway to my bedroom. Since he'd never stepped foot in my house before, my old paranoia shivered through me on a swift chill.

  I raised my head, scrutinizing him. "How did you know where my bedroom is?"

  "You mean because this is the first time you've invited me into your house?" He set me down on my feet and I wobbled on my high heels. Sometimes I swore he could read my mind. As another wave of cold broke over me, Lachlan tucked a wild lock of hair behind my ear. "It was common logic, sweet. Your house has one hallway with two doors down it. One of those doors had to be your bedroom."

  "Oh." I hunched my shoulders, feeling an utter fool.

  "Bit suspicious, aren't you?" He studied me for a moment, without a hint of displeasure, and then started undoing his tie. "Imagine you have your reasons."

  The simplicity of the statement, coupled with his apparent disinterest in learning those reasons, served as the verbal equivalent of a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. Back to reality. Back to our agreement. When my mom called, he'd wanted to know more, but tonight he didn't seem to give a hoot. Was he trying to drive me bonkers?

  He shed his tie and jacket, beginning to unbutton his shirt. After freeing the second button, he hesitated with his fingers on the third button, and swept his gaze over me. "Are you planning to sleep in that dress?"

  I blinked several times in quick succession, but couldn't shake off my sudden paralysis. My arms hung at my sides, my feet seemed rooted to the spot, and no matter how hard I tried I could not coerce any of my limbs to obey my commands. Watching him casually undressing before me, I'd developed some kind of brain lockout, like when a computer freezes up. A slack-jawed expression was my version of the blue screen of death.

  "But, uh, y-y — " I stammered, helpless to keep my focus off his brawny, tanned chest, revealed bit by bit as he unbuttoned his shirt. "Are you going to, um, keep your boxer shorts on or something?"

  He tipped his head, his lips ticking up at the corners. "Last night I stripped us both naked and did wicked things to you for hours. Now you're shy about seeing the full monty?"

  Still paralyzed, I swallowed hard. Full monty. Okay, I'd seen that movie, I knew what the term meant. "Well, see, nudity feels kind of different tonight. We're not doing anything, and besides, last night you undressed me while I was blindfolded which is kind of different and — "

  He surged forward to seal his mouth over mine, squelching my babbling. The firmness of his lips disconnected all the circuits in my brain and any thoughts I'd had splintered into a million pieces. I opened my mouth to him, but he pulled away, severing the kiss.

  "If you like," he said in that sultry voice, his brogue a bit thicker, "I'll handle the task of removing your dress from your supple little b
ody myself." He bent to graze his hot lips down my throat, while his fingers trailed down my arms, igniting spark after spark under my sensitized skin. "Would ye like me to?"

  "Yes." The word burst from my lips, unhindered by silly things like forethought and sanity. His voice intoxicated me faster than any whisky.

  He circled his hands around my waist, reaching for the zipper of my dress. I sucked in a breath when his fingertips tickled my bare skin, already flushed with heat and primed for his touch. He pulled the zipper down in slow motion, his fingers flitting over my flesh in its wake, the drawn-out zzzzzzt of the zipper becoming the most erotic thing I'd ever heard. When he'd exposed my entire back, he flattened his palms on my skin and tugged me closer.

  "Soft as silk," he purred into my ear, then his hands shifted to spread the dress wide, and cool air kissed my flesh. His sultry breaths whispered over my ear, across the tender skin beneath it.

  Still, I couldn't move. My pulse beat so fast it throbbed in my ears. My breasts ached for his hands, his mouth, anything to relieve the agony of wanting.

  His shoulders sagged, his body listing toward me as he flicked the straps off my shoulders and the dress tumbled down to pool around my feet. Lachlan took a half step back, raking his gaze over me. I stood motionless, in nothing but a bra and panties — and my heels. His voice was rough and strained when commanded, "Take off the rest."

  Just like that, my body roused from its paralysis. As if in a trance, I shed my bra and panties under his scorching gaze. When I kicked off my heels, he licked his lips with the look of a predator intent on consuming his prey. My sex pulsated at the thought, at the desperate hope he would consume me right here, right now.

  Faster than I'd ever seen anyone move, he flung off his shirt, slacks, socks, shoes. Everything hit the floor with a clunk or sailed down onto a chair or the dresser. Confronted with his sudden nakedness, and his raging erection, I struggled for breath. My hand rose to my throat, my fingers stroked my skin.