Notorious in a Kilt

by Anna Durand

  The cheeky lass knew what she was doing with that statement, and I adored her even more for it. Feisty, clever, determined Rae was utterly irresistible.

  Her self-satisfied smile proved she'd done it on purpose. "I remember the time you came to class in a kilt, with those big old boots and that sky-blue dress shirt. You walked all the way across the campus dressed like that. Frat boys must've been harassing you the whole time, but the Unflappable Iain MacTaggart didn't care."

  I scoffed. "Why should I give a fuck if acne-ridden eejits taunt me?"

  "All the girls loved getting a glimpse of your legs."

  Leaning forward, I met her gaze head-on. "I wore the kilt for you."

  Her head jerked back, and she blinked rapidly. "What? You said it was a visual aid for your lecture on the clan systems of medieval Scotland."

  I shook my head. "That's what I told the class. But I wore it for you, because you'd once mentioned you thought kilts were sexy. And that's how I know your skirt comment was nothing more than your attempt to make me angry."

  "Why would I want to do that?"

  "So I willnae try to seduce ye." I smiled when she rolled her eyes again. "Donnae worry. I wasn't planning to seduce you…tonight."

  We gazed at each other for a moment, the heat between us evident in the glossy look in her eyes and the way she kept licking her lips.

  Rae shifted her attention to the ever-darkening sky. Then, she leaped up from her chair, feigned a yawn, and said, "I'm exhausted. Good night, Iain, see you in the morning."

  As if I'd let her get away with that.

  She tried to breeze past me, but I slung an arm around her waist and hauled her down onto my lap. The lass wound up sideways across my thighs, her feet dangling. I tugged her closer, our faces centimeters apart, and her deep-blue eyes widened slightly.

  Maybe I couldn't convince her to trust me yet, but I could give her one thing she'd complained about more than once.

  "What are you doing?" she asked.

  "Giving you what you've been wanting."

  I plunged a hand into her hair, cradling her nape, drawing her head closer. She her hands on my chest but made no effort to pull away. There she is, my passionate lass. I took her mouth hard and fast, allowing no time for her to change her mind. She opened to me, welcoming me into the soft, slick heat of her mouth, moaning when I thrust my tongue deep. The sweet taste of her, the determined strokes of her tongue, the way her fingers clutched my shirt, all of it overpowered my good sense—if I'd ever had any of that—and I couldn't stop myself from delving deeper, taking more, gorging myself on the woman I'd longed for all these years. I wrapped both arms around her, crushing her lush body to me.

  She latched her arms around my neck.

  The feel of her body intoxicated me. Her breasts mounded against my chest. Her hair falling around my face and tickling my skin. Her soft palms at my nape, her fingers questing into my hair. And her erse, the way it pressed into my hardening cock.

  With a hungry little moan, she wriggled and flailed one leg until she straddled me.

  I groaned into her mouth, wrecked by the sensation of her hot cleft rubbing against my cock, with only a layer of denim and maybe a thin panties between our flesh. Years ago, I'd wanted her. Now, I craved her like a man who'd gone without food or water for weeks, and she was the sustenance I needed. To have her, to devour her, to brand her as mine…

  Bloody hell. What was I doing? Rushing things to satisfy my cock.

  Taking hold of her upper arms, I peeled her away from me.

  Rae gazed at me with desire-heated eyes, unfocused. She blinked slowly. Her kiss-swollen lips had turned a luscious shade of dusky pink, and a faint flush tinted her cheeks. She breathed hard, her breasts rising and falling, the rigid nipples jutting through her bra and shirt.

  I spread a palm over her cheek, brushing my thumb across her chin. "That's enough for tonight."

  "Enough?" she said, her voice a husky whisper. She shut her eyes briefly, taking a slow breath and exhaling it between her puckered lips. When she looked at me again, her gaze had cleared. "You're right. That was enough. I don't want you getting the wrong impression and thinking I'll hop into bed with you."

  A smile tightened my lips, but I managed to keep it subdued. "That's right, sunshine. Donnae let me have the wrong idea after you glued your body to mine and rubbed yourself on my cock."

  She tried to frown, but it was ineffectual. "Sex is a bad idea."

  "You keep saying that, but you keep looking at me like you want—"

  Rae sealed two fingers over my lips. "Stop talking. Say good night and leave it at that, before you ruin this by getting cocky."

  I rocked my hips up and tipped hers forward, letting her feel how cocky I was.

  She hissed in a breath. "Honestly, Iain."

  "Afraid you'll need to speak a complete sentence, or I might misunderstand." I slid my hands up her hips to her waist. "Was that 'honestly, Iain, please make love to me sweetly' or 'honestly, Iain, please fuck me hard right here on the swing'? Need to be sure I'm giving you what you want."

  "What I want," she said, giving my chest a light slap, "is for you to stop being obsessed with sex."

  "It's not me that's obsessed, it's you." I cradled her ass in my hands and stood, carrying her with me, and set her down on her feet. My hands lingered on her rump. "You're the one who begged for a deep kiss."

  Her mouth opened and closed—twice.

  I kissed her forehead, took her hand, and led her into the house.

  Chapter Eight

  Rae

  I let Iain shepherd me into the house, down the hall to my bedroom. It stood closed, hiding from view all the evidence of my daughter and her uncanny resemblance to her father. Guilt coiled in my gut, a tight wad of barbed wire that pricked me every time I thought about Malina and the father she'd never known. Maybe I should've told Iain about her, but I still didn't know if I could count on him to stick around. I believed it when he said he hadn't meant to abandon me. Believing didn't erase the pain of losing him or the shame of being labeled the campus slut.

  That wasn't his fault. I'd never blamed him for what others said, but the fact he'd taken off left me wondering if he'd ever really cared about me. His determination to seduce me did not quell the small voice in my head that kept asking if he wanted a relationship with me or if he wanted sex.

  Did any man travel halfway around the world for a roll in the hay?

  I turned toward him, my back to the bedroom door. "Thank you for helping out today."

  "Don't thank me. I'm working for my room and board."

  "And the chance to get in my pants." I flattened my back against the door, arms crossed over my chest. "I'm not a lovestruck college girl anymore. I have responsibilities."

  "So do I, but I still find time for relaxation." He braced a hand on the wall beside my head. "As for getting in your pants…" He hooked a finger inside the waistband of my jeans. "I can do that right now."

  He undid the button of my jeans, and I just stood there, immobilized by the expression on his face. His hooded gaze never wavered from mine, his lips had parted a hair, and the whispers of his breaths seemed to echo between us. I dropped my arms, plastering my palms to the wall, helpless to move or speak as he tugged my zipper down, down, down.

  "What are you doing?" I asked, though I thought—hoped, maybe even prayed—I knew what he was planning. My breaths came faster and shallower, and my skin tingled with anticipation.

  He bent his arm and ducked his head near mine, those pale eyes shimmering in the low light. "Shhh."

  "I—oh…"

  His hand slipped inside my jeans, inside my panties, cupping my mound. "No need for a vibrator tonight."

  Blue eyes seared into mine. How could irises the color of glacial ice burn with a scorching heat? I remembered that look from the one and only night we'd spent together. I'd seen it right before he thrust into me for the first time.


  Iain thrust his hand between my folds.

  My clit throbbed, and my sex pulsated with a need for more of him. Inside me. Deep. Claiming me.

  His thumb found my nub and stroked it mercilessly. This was no gentle seduction. He intended to make me come, hard and fast, and I had no willpower left to say no. I wanted this. I wanted more than this, but for tonight, I'd indulge in one moment of sheer pleasure.

  Don't do this, that annoying voice warned. If you floor the accelerator, this vehicle will run you straight off a cliff. Be responsible.

  Fuck responsibility. I'd done nothing but behave like a responsible adult for so damn long. I could have this one moment of reckless passion without rocketing over the edge.

  I relaxed into Iain's touch, letting myself drown in those gorgeous eyes and the sensation of his rough palm on my flesh. His thumb kept rubbing my clit, and his long fingers stretched down my cleft to—

  "Uh." The sound burst out of me at the instant one of his fingers dived inside my sheath. While he pumped it in and out, I crooked my fingers into the wall. Just as my neck arched, he thrust another finger inside me, and the another. I moaned, sagging against the wall.

  Thumb rubbing. Fingers thrusting. Me panting.

  My mouth fell open on a gasp, and he sealed his open mouth over mine. The kiss was insanely deep, ravenous, wild, like we couldn't get far enough inside each other. I hooked one leg around his, granting him full access to my body, and he plunged a fourth finger inside me. The heel of his hand scraped along my cleft while he pumped his fingers and raked his thumb round and round my clit. I came with his fingers buried inside my sheath and his tongue ravaging my mouth. My body went rigid, the muscles inside clenching around his fingers and releasing, clenching and releasing, over and over until the exquisite pleasure at last relinquished its hold on me.

  Iain pulled away, though not by much.

  Limp and breathless, I could do nothing more than gape at him.

  He removed his hand from my pants, raised his fingers to his face, and drew in a long breath. Eyes half closed, he seemed to be…relishing the scent of my wetness on his skin.

  A new desire fluttered inside me.

  Iain wiped his fingers on his jeans and smirked. "I got in your pants."

  How could I argue with that? He had. I'd let him. And damn, I'd loved what he did to me.

  Still, I had to make the parameters clear. Again.

  "Pay attention this time," I said. "You can't stay past nine days, and we will not be having a relationship."

  He patted my hip. "Not yet. First, we'll have a good poke or two, or three, or four. With a passionate lass like you, who knows."

  "A poke?"

  "It means a fuck."

  "Sex is not the way to earn my trust."

  He touched my hip again, then slid his hand around to my bottom. "Sex is the gambit, not the endgame."

  My mouth crimped at one corner. "You still play chess, I gather."

  "And I imagine you still refuse to learn it."

  "Chess is too slow and complicated."

  We were talking about chess right after he'd given me a fantastic orgasm. Oh no, this wasn't weird at all.

  "You didn't mind slow," he said, "when I made love to you."

  "That was in another lifetime. I'm not twenty-two anymore." I squirmed, but rather then relieving the lingering ache between my thighs, the movement only served to push my butt into his hand. "I don't look like I did back then. I have scars and stretch marks and sagging breasts."

  He chuckled softly. "I've been with women older than you. Older than me."

  Why did have to have a reasonable answer for everything? It was so irritating.

  Iain massaged my ass. "You said you'd love to get naked with me."

  "I…" Had no idea what to say to that. Yes, I'd spoken the words. "Iain—"

  He dragged me into his body, crushing his mouth to mine.

  No breath. No thoughts. My pulse raced, my skin tingled from my scalp to my toes. The delicious feeling of his lips on mine coaxed my eyes to flutter closed and my body to melt against him, craving more of what he'd given me a moment ago. Please, Iain, don't stop.

  He pushed me away. His voice rough, he said, "Good night, Rae."

  And then he strode down the hallway that led to the stairs. I listened as his footfalls clomped on the stairs.

  That man was going to ruin me. Again.

  And I didn't give a damn.

  I'd learned nothing in the past thirteen years. All the struggles to make a new life and take care of my child, none of that mattered anymore the second Iain MacTaggart had stormed back into my world. Whether he brought nourishing, warm rain or destructive lightning and hail, I still didn't know.

  Once his footsteps faded away, I retreated into my bedroom. Seated on the bed's edge, I dug my phone out of my pocket and dialed my mom's number in California. The call was picked up on the second ring, but rather than my mother's mature voice, a bright young voice greeted me.

  "Mom!" Malina almost shrieked. "You won't believe it! I caught a wave today! Ty showed me how yesterday, but I wiped out. Today, I got it!"

  "That's great, sweetie. You'll be a surfing expert in no time."

  Since my daughter had turned from little girl to preteen, I'd discovered twelve-year-old females often spoke with invisible exclamation points at the end of every statement. I swore sometimes I could see those exclamation points hovering in the air.

  "And guess what," Malina said, "Zoey's taking me to a museum tomorrow. She says there are dinosaurs and everything."

  "Sounds like fun."

  A knot tightened in my gut. I loved that my kid had a thing for history, but her love of all things old and decaying reminded me of Iain. Always did. Even before he'd tracked me down. Last year, when Malina had asked for an archaeology book for Christmas, I'd gotten choked up and had to excuse myself to go in the bathroom and splash water on my face. It was so dumb. I hadn't seen Iain in years, but the mention of archaeology made me emotional.

  Yet here he was, in my house. Malina's father. Maybe I should tell him—

  No. Whatever mysterious "reasons" he might've had for leaving me, I would not risk him hurting our daughter the same way.

  My daughter. Not our daughter.

  I slapped a palm on my forehead. Jeez, if I was thinking of Malina as our daughter, that could mean only one thing. I was developing feelings for Iain. Again.

  Developing? Had I ever stopped having feelings for him?

  "Mom, are you okay?"

  Yanked out of my melancholy thoughts, I said, "Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

  "Because you made a weird noise. Like a moany groan or something."

  If she said I'd made a noise, I must've made a noise. Damn.

  "Just tired," I said. "It's two hours later here. Which reminds me, isn't it your bedtime there?"

  Malina moany-groaned this time. "Mom, it's summer vacation."

  "You still have a bedtime."

  "I'm twelve. Only babies go to sleep at nine o'clock."

  Ah yes, twelve was the new thirty. Not in my book.

  "You're still on Texas time," I said, "which means it's eleven o'clock. You got to stay up late, so it's time for bed."

  "Mom," she whined.

  "Now, Malina. Go. To. Bed."

  She sighed with all the melodrama of a preteen girl. "Okay, fine."

  "Good night, Leenie."

  "Aw, Mom, I'm too old to be called a baby name."

  I laughed softly. "Yes, of course. Good night, Ms. Malina Everhart."

  A voice in the background at her end called out, "Let me have the phone. I want to talk to your mother."

  "Okay," Malina said. Then, to me, she said, "Grandma wants you. Night, Mom."

  "Night, sweetie."

  Shuffling indicated Malina had relinquished the phone.

  "Well, well," my mother said, "how are things there? Are you behaving yourself?"

/>   "Have I ever misbehaved?"

  "You were the perfect child." She paused—for dramatic effect, no doubt. "But you did have that incident in college when you did the horizontal mambo with a sexy foreigner old enough to be your father."

  "Iain is only fifteen years older."

  "Teenage boys have sperm, you know."

  "Ech, Mom." Now I sounded like my daughter. Terrific. Not only had I reverted to my college self, but I'd regressed further into the preteen years. "I was an adult when I slept with Iain. And hey, why are you talking about sperm and the horizontal mambo in front of my kid?"

  "I'm not. Malina's in her room with the door closed, and I'm walking to the living room."

  "Oh. Well, that's different."

  "You certainly are touchy tonight." She sighed. "Is that man harassing you?"

  I tried to stifle a laugh, but it came out as tiny snorts. "No, he's not like that."

  "Have you slept with him yet?"

  My mouth opened, but I couldn't speak. Mom and I had never talked about my sex life, mostly because it had been virtually nonexistent. She'd always been frank about sex, giving me instruction in the use of condoms when I was sixteen and had my first official date. Still, I wasn't sure I could handle talking to my mom about the things Iain and I got up to together.

  Guess what, Mom? Iain shoved his hand down my pants and gave me the best orgasm ever in the history of orgasms. I'm seriously considering fucking him.

  No, I did not want to discuss this with my mother.

  "Well?" she said. "Have you?"

  "Slept with Iain? No."

  Engaged in sexual activities with him, yes. Fantasized about sex with him, absolutely. Done the deed, no. Not yet. But maybe…No, no, bad idea. Explaining to myself why it was a bad idea kept getting more and more difficult. Two consenting adults, alone in a remote house, free to explore our every carnal fantasy…

  "You want to, don't you?" Mom asked. "You did call him hotter than ever."

  "Um—well—" What was the point in lying? I stank at it, anyway. "Yes, I've thought about it. No heterosexual woman on the planet could meet Iain MacTaggart and not have even a fleeting thought about getting naked with him."