by Emma Roman
He sounded so serious, Jules didn’t want to give into the laugh, but she couldn’t help it. “You? What about me? I’m the one who had carry her all these months, get huge, then hurt worse than I ever have.” She smiled at her daughter. “Although, she was worth it.” When she looked at her husband, his beautiful dark eyes had gone misty again—and her heart stuttered.
“Juliette—”
She reached for his hand and squeezed. “I know.”
His Adam’s apple dipped, but he nodded, too.
Jules had gotten a Valentine’s Day present after all.
The best one. Ever.
“I love you. I love her, too. More than words. Happy Valentine’s Day, Hugh.”
“I love ye, both. My lasses.” His expression was impossibly soft. Loving, as he regarded his tiny daughter. He met her eyes again, his brows knitted. “But, mò bhilis, what’s…Valentine’s Day…did ye say? Do ye mean Saint Valentine?”
She just grinned.
Epilogue
Hugh dropped an article of clothing with every step as he crossed the room. But he wasn’t walking. Her husband was prowling.
The intensity in his dark eyes named Jules his prey, but she would’ve begged for it anyway. That look made her combust from the inside out. Every nerve ending seared for him and he hadn’t laid a finger on her…yet.
He stopped in front of her naked. His erection—always impressive, anyway—jutted toward her as if beckoning on its own. And damn…she needed to touch him. Taste him.
Jules shivered.
“Undress,” Hugh growled.
He didn’t have to tell her twice.
Her mouth was too dry for words, so she forced a nod and watched his muscles ripple with obvious impatience. Her man quivered, his desire a live thing Jules fed off. Her sex throbbed in response.
Shaky hands grabbed the sides of her sleeping chemise as if they weren’t her own.
“Ye take too long.” Hugh reached for her, tugging the material up and helping her get her arms free before one last yank over her head.
Then he swept her up in his arms, before the soft fabric even hit the stone floor or the chill in the room could seep into her bare skin.
Jules yelped; he’d caught her off guard, but she shouldn’t have been surprised. Rough and raw was how she loved this man, and it’d been too long since he’d had his hands on her.
His lips crashed down on hers but she didn’t hesitate to twine her tongue around his. He dominated her mouth like he owned her heart, and kissed her until her need of him shot all over her body like little arrows.
First brush of his fingers between her legs and she’d come, she burned for him so badly.
Hugh tossed her onto the bed and the breath left her lungs, but Jules didn’t give a damn.
She opened her arms, ready to have him on top of her, inside her.
Now.
Instead of coming to her, her husband stood beside the bed and stared down. Licked his kiss-swollen lips, too, which made her stomach wobble.
Jules squirmed, wanting to cover her still-not-flat tummy, and hide her stretch marks. Their daughter was two months old now; her body still wasn’t the same, despite the runs she’d started doing on the frigid beach—regardless of Hugh’s protests. It was April, but spring was being a tease, and it was still freezing most mornings.
He’d started running with her, if only to keep her from being unguarded, so they’d made it a competition. He was damn hard to keep up with since he was so much taller, but she’d beat him this morning.
She’d sealed her win with an overheated kiss, but Hugh had backed off. Disappointingly so. She would’ve stripped for him right then and there—temperature be damned.
Jules had been begging him to make love to her for weeks.
Hugh had been worried she wasn’t healed—despite the fact she’d assured him Alana had helped with that—with magic. She’d healed faster than she normally would have on her own. Been ready to go for a whole month.
Tonight, she’d dared him with one too many kisses after dinner. Jules had won. She’d have him. Right now.
Damn good thing he was finally on the same page with her.
He groaned. “Mò bhilis, yer so beautiful.”
She swallowed and pushed to her knees, meeting him at the edge of the bed. She didn’t want to talk about her body’s imperfections. If she denied his words, he’d just argue—or assert—that he was right. She wanted her man in her arms.
Jules dragged two fingers down his pecs, following the curve of his dark areolas, and petting his nipples until they pushed back, hard flat little tips. She stroked the tight curls that dotted the expanse, then went downward, tracing his defined abs, parting his happy trail, and teasing the tip of his bobbing cock with her palm.
With every noise he emitted, she bloomed even more for him. Need was eating her up. Her thighs shook and her clit pulsed. She could feel a new rush of moisture from her core.
Hugh pushed at her shoulders, encouraging her to lie back as he placed a knee between her legs. The move was rather gentle for her normally demanding barbarian.
“Hugh?” she whispered.
“I need ye, mò bhilis.” His grip on her upper arms was loose, despite the tension in his words.
“I need you, too. Thought that’s what this is about. Have me, Hugh. Take me.”
His dark eyes flashed, and her husband didn’t hesitate to cover her body with his. He still wasn’t as rough as usual, especially given how high his blood must be singing. It’d been a long time since they’d had sex.
Jules closed her eyes and kissed his shoulder. She slid her arms around him, loving the press of his hips against hers. His hard stomach over her softer one. His chest against her breasts, even though they were sore from nursing Brenna.
Hugh’s heat washed over her and made her heart beat even faster than the mutual arousal already had it. The rough springy hair on his legs only amped her higher. Every inch of him was against every inch of her, and it was about damn time.
“I love you,” she panted.
He pulled back and looked down at her before pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. “I love ye, my sweet wife. My Juliette.”
She kissed him again, but it wasn’t soft. She urged him with her tongue, thrusting it in and out of his mouth, squeezing her arms around his neck.
His erection burned her inner thigh, but he wasn’t in the right place. Jules slid her hand between them and gripped him.
Hugh gasped into their kiss. “Juliette…”
“Get inside me, Hugh MacDonald.”
“I didna wan’ ta hurt ye wit’ my eagerness.”
“I am more eager than you.”
“Aye?” Challenge glinted in his gorgeous midnight eyes, and he smirked.
She traced his lips with her fingertip, outlining that sexy expression. “Do ya wanna bet me? That didn’t work so well for you this morning on the beach.”
He growled and caught her finger in his teeth, but he didn’t hurt her. He sucked, teasing her skin with his tongue.
Jules moaned and desire unfurled in her belly all over again, lower. Hotter.
Without breaking their eye contact, Hugh shifted his pelvis away only to come back, filling her with one hard stroke that took her breath and flooded her with pleasure.
Instead of starting to thrust, like she needed, her husband stilled, hovering. “Did I hurt ye?” It was a strained demand that snapped her back into her skin.
“No. God, no. Move, please move Hugh. I need you. All of you.” Jules slid her legs around his waist to assist her plea, and squeezed her thighs.
He grunted and moved his hips away only to drive forward again—finally. She sensed some remaining hesitation, but when Jules slammed her mouth into his, Hugh got with the program. He kissed her deeper; took her hard and fast, exactly what she wanted.
His tongue worked in time with his thrusts, making them soar higher and higher. He never stopped kissing her, sampling her mouth as if he couldn’t get enoug
h of her taste. The feeling was mutual.
She dragged her hands over his sweaty shoulders and down his back, kneading his perfect ass and urging him even faster.
Ecstasy made her muscles tremble, and Jules shook in his arms as orgasm crashed over her. It was intense, and sucked away her air, but she didn’t care, because pleasure made her head spin as her inner muscles contracted and relaxed.
Hugh wasn’t far behind. His biceps went taut first, before his spine stiffened, and he broke their kiss, burying his face against the damp skin of her neck. He breathed her name like a chant as his release shot deep and the aftershock of her climax milked him.
They panted against each other, his massive chest heaving, forcing his chest hair to tickle her overheated skin. Jules quaked, but she wasn’t cold.
Silence descended, but it was okay, because she couldn’t speak just yet.
Being with her husband again was better than she’d remembered—imagined. Better than before. He’d rocked her world again.
Made her feel him completely. Connected. Loved. Worshiped.
Jules tightened her grip around him. She couldn’t see his face, but she planted a kiss next to his ear and smiled when he shuddered against her. His stubble brushed her skin. “Tha gaol agam ort,” she whispered.
Hugh lifted his head, and the sexy smirk was back in place. “Tha’ wasna half bad, lass. And I love ye, too.” He went to move off her, but she held him fast, and her man chuckled.
“Wait. Please don’t go. I need to feel you.”
Concern crossed his handsome face. “I’ll no’ leave ya, mò bhilis, I jus’ doona want ta crush ye.”
“You’re not hurting me.”
Hugh dipped down and took her mouth, kissing Jules until her already boneless body melted even more.
She loosened her hold, and her husband slipped from her body and nestled next her on his side.
“See? I’m here wit’ ye.”
Jules snuggled into him and he caressed her back in the long soothing strokes she’d always loved. “Always.”
“Always,” he repeated, and gave a curt nod.
She cocked her head to one side, her hair shifting to tickle her shoulder. “Well, at least for a few more hours, until your daughter wails and you pretend you’re sleeping through it.” He opened his mouth, but Jules cut him off with a mock-glare. “Don’t you dare deny it.” She poked his chest.
Hugh batted her hand away, but then caught it and kissed her knuckles. “Love, I doona—”
When she arched an eyebrow at him, he chuckled.
“Och!” She stole one of Mab’s favorite words. “I knew it!”
He surged forward and covered her mouth with his, slipping his hand to the back of her neck, tangling his fingers in her natural waves and pulling her closer.
Fortunately for him, he was a good enough kisser that she embraced the distraction, but wasn’t dumb enough not to spot it for what it was from a mile away.
Jules would get him back, but it would have to be… later.
Her husband nudged her legs open and stroked two fingers up and down her sex, then paid close attention to her already throbbing clit.
She tilted her head back and moaned.
Later…indeed.
Jules and Hugh were two of those characters who just didn’t feel “done” when I was finished with their book, THE PARCHMENT SCROLL (Highland Secrets Trilogy Book Three), so this story was born, but I knew the subject matter was something they would have to deal with from the start. It’d been floating around in my head since I typed “The End” the first time around.
I love Hugh, just LOVE him (don’t tell my other heroes…LOL) so I loved getting back in his head for HIGHLAND VALENTINE.
If you haven’t read their love story, you can find it in THE PARCHMENT SCROLL. It’s the third book in my trilogy, but you can read the books out of order, they are all standalone within the series.
About the Author:
Bestselling, award winning author of romantic suspense and epic fantasy romance, C.A. loves to dabble in different genres. If it’s a good story, she’ll write it, no matter where it seems to fit! She’s a hopeless romantic and always will be. Risking it all for Happily Ever After is what she lives by! C.A. is originally from Ohio, but got to Texas as soon as she could. She’s happily married and has a bachelor’s degree in Criminal Justice. She works with kids when she’s not writing.
WEBSITE: http://www.caszarek.com
BLOG: http://www.caszarekwriter.blogspot.com/
TWITTER: https://twitter.com/caszarek
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6. Wrong Valentine Date
An Accidental Encounters Novella
Geri Foster
The saying no good deed goes unpunished couldn’t be truer….
Eric Holmes is sure Cupid is hiding in the bushes making fun of him; why else would he grudgingly agree to accompany his irritating neighbor to a Valentine’s Day Party pretending to be her current boyfriend. Oh, there might have been the slight factor that she rescued his dog and offered him a bowl of delicious chili to weaken his resolve after he had flatly refused her bizarre request the first time. He just needed to make sure she knew this was a one-time deal.
Jennifer Barnes needs a date and she will do anything to get one, even resort to bribing her less than thrilled neighbor. This is her chance to prove to her group of friends that she is over her ex-fiancée and cheating ex-best friend’s betrayal. The last thing she wants is to show up alone and have deal with everyone’s inquisitive looks. If it means burying her pride for a night and using less than honorable methods to get him to agree, so be it!
Can Jennifer and Eric put on a good enough show to convince everyone that Jennifer is finally over the humiliation, or will she become the laughing stock of the party? Or even worse, what happens if Cupid’s arrow strikes her again and she finds her new neighbor isn’t as infuriating as she thought?
1
Jennifer Barnes wasn’t happy and who could blame her? The biggest Valentine’s Day party in Dallas was only a week away and her date canceled using a lame excuse. Depression set in as she mentally went through her contacts.
She had to be at that party and she had to have a man on her arm.
Jennifer vowed to die before bowing out of Chasity Bellamy’s party. She would become the laughing stock of the area, so she was determined to find a date...any date. Jennifer could survive the night as long as she had a date and he spoke English.
Hell, she’d even consider hiring an escort. Surely, they have those these days, didn’t they? If not, she was willing to fund a start-up.
At the sound of a car door slamming, Jennifer turned and cringed. Her neighbor must’ve arrived home. Wait for it, wait for it. Like clockwork, the loud obnoxious barking of his hound vibrated off the houses in the quiet, upscale, Dallas neighborhood.
From past experience, she figured Pooch the Mooch would be squatting in her front yard about now, relieving himself in his favorite spot. You could set your watch by his actions and they weren’t pretty.
Yes, Mr. Eric Holmes would eventually drag himself over and clean up the mess, but he’d take his good old sweet time about it. She liked the dog, just not its owner.
Opening the front door, she saw the hound squat to take his daily constitution right next to her double bloom azaleas.
“Howdy, neighbor,” he waved with a smile. “I’ll be over to clean that up in a little while.”
“Why?” she called across the yard, trying to control her temper “Why do you let him come into my yard to do his business?”
Like every other day, Mr. Holmes was dressed in his usual garb: Jeans, a black tee shirt, heavy
boots, and a sock hat on his head. There wasn’t a hint about where he worked or what he did for a living. Yet, somehow, he’d managed to acquire a very nice piece of real estate.
“Come here, boy.” He leaned down and clapped his hands. When Pooch didn’t answer immediately, a shrill whistle rent the air and the dog took off running to his master——right through her flowerbed.
When she tossed him an annoyed glare, he simply shrugged. “Hey, you can’t expect a guy to tell his dog where to take a crap.”
“I can expect you to keep him on a leash and in his own yard.”
Down on one knee, he scratched the dog’s ears and looked at her. “He doesn’t like the leash. Besides, I’ll clean it up.”
Jennifer put her hands on her hips and tried not to snarl. “Sure you will. When the mood strikes you.”
He shook his head. “What difference does it make? That pile of poop isn’t going anywhere.”
She pointed to her pansies. “What about this?”
He straightened and walked toward her, his dog close behind. “What?”
“He tore up my flowers.”
Her neighbor turned to his dog. “Bad boy, Pooch. You shouldn’t mess up the lady’s pretty garden.”
The dog stopped wriggling around in excitement at his master’s return home, to whine briefly and then shake his massive head.
“There, he promises not to do it again.”
Lifting a brow, she tapped her foot. “Oh, is that what he did? I thought he just flapped his ears.”
“No, no.” Her neighbor feigned sincerity by lowering his eyes and holding out his palms, “He listens and understands.”
“Then why doesn’t he use his own yard for a toilet?”
With a shrug, Mr. Holmes picked up a stick and threw it toward his yard. The dog took off in a mad dash. “I’ve never told him to.”
“Maybe you should.”
He gazed at her as if appraising a prized bull at a cattle auction. She grew flushed at his blatent assessment. “You know, you’re kind of cute, Jennifer.” He gestured with his right hand. “When you’re mad and all.”
