by Caro LaFever
“My God,” he sighed.
Instead of going up to his nipples, because she’d done that once or twice before with him, she decided to go south. Go where she’d never gone. With any man. But she wanted to with Lorne. She wanted to give him this.
The snap of the first button on his jeans made his eyes snap open, too. “What are ye doing?” he husked, growing astonishment in his expression again.
And lust too. And excitement.
“I’m going to suck on you.”
Her simple statement made him flush and his hands fisted by his side. “Are ye sure? Ye don’t have to.”
He’d never indicated he wanted to have her go down on him. Even though his mouth had been on her many times, giving her amazing pleasure. But he was a man, and by the expression on his face, he’d been doing some dreaming about it. “Yes,” she said, her hands working on the rest of his buttons. “Lift your hips.”
“Bloody hell, woman.” His whole body went taut. “I don’t know if I’ll last.”
His admission drove her affection for him straight into an emotion she wouldn’t name. Not yet. Not now. “Come on. Lift.”
Belying his worry about his control, he obediently canted his hips up and she dragged his jeans and underwear down to his knees. His cock, the part of him that had driven her into ecstasy countless times, bobbed in the air, hard and long and beautiful. As beautiful as the rest of him.
“Hello,” she murmured, palming the head of him before softly fondling the rest of the length.
Lorne lifted his head to stare at her. He laughed again, a husky, groaning, sort of sound. “Are ye actually greeting my cock?”
“He and I have become good friends,” she teased.
“That is so.” His head landed on the rug once more. “Do whatever ye want with him, then.”
“I will.” Deciding she might as well dive into something she’d never done before she lost her confidence, she moved over him, placing her lips at his tip.
“Fucking hell.”
This time she ignored his words and kept her focus on his body. His cock surged in her mouth, his hips pumping up in an unconscious response to her caresses. His garbled words and groans increased as she sucked him, loving the salty taste.
One of her hands slipped over his balls and by his reaction, she could tell he loved that. Squeezing lightly, she continued to give to this man. To her lover.
To her love.
In seconds, he went frantic with need.
His thighs went rigid. Breath gasped in and out of his chest. The muscles of his abdomen tensed under her cheek. His cock exploded in her mouth.
Ceri took him in. Took all of him in.
And she loved it. Loved every second of giving.
He moaned one last time, and then his whole body went slack. Placing one last kiss on the tip of him, she slid down by his side, laying her head on his shoulder.
“Bloody fucking hell,” he finally croaked.
“Did you like it?” Satisfaction coursed through her. She didn’t need his answer, but she couldn’t help the tease. Nestling closer, she breathed in the scent of his lingering lust.
He went silent, so silent she glanced at his face.
His eyes were closed, the lush, red-gold of his lashes hiding him from her. His mouth was slightly open, and a flush of passion remained on his cheeks.
“Lorne?”
“Aye.” He opened his eyes. They were still hazy with desire. He gave her a vague smile. “What?”
“You liked it.”
“That isn’t a question.” His eyes shut once more. “Which means I don’t have to answer.”
A giggle came up her throat. “You’re extremely literal.”
He grunted. “You’re laughing at my words when I’m lying here in the meadow naked for anyone to come along and see.”
“There’s nothing to laugh about regarding your body.” She let her hand drift along his stomach and chest. “Nothing at all.”
He grunted again, but his smile went wide. “Is that so?”
“Yes, that’s so.” Nuzzling into the cotton of his T-shirt, she closed her eyes.
She took in the warmth of the sunlight, the soft sound of the wind, the smell of him mixed with the innocent scent of the primroses surrounding them. She let her emotions and thoughts slide out of her, and in their place, came a strange sort of peace. A peace she’d never felt in her entire life.
“I want to take ye to Edinburgh.”
Her peace exploded into pieces.
Chapter 25
Ceri’s brother wasn’t what Lorne had expected.
For one thing, Elis Olwen wasn’t beautiful. He wasn’t the male version of his sister, whose beauty could rival any woman on earth.
He was a geek.
“Jings!” The teenager stopped in the cottage doorway, his mouth dropping open, his gangly arms tightening around his backpack. “Who the hell are ye?”
She’d warned Lorne this morning, at breakfast.
“Elis is supposed to arrive sometime today.” Keeping her focus on her porridge, she’d avoided giving him any hint of what she was thinking about the situation. “He’s being dropped off by some friends on their way to Glasgow.”
“Is that so.” He’d kept his gaze on her, but she gave him nothing. Frustration billowed. “Does he know about us?”
“Um.” Her spoon clanked into the bowl, her hands folded into her lap. She still didn’t look at him.
“I reckon I’ll take that as a no.” Another emotion, more akin to hurt, rolled through him. She hadn’t told her brother she had a lover. A live-in lover. She also hadn’t taken Lorne up on the offer to go to Edinburgh. Even more telling, she’d never accepted one of his simple proposals to go to Pictloch to eat. Or stroll. Or shop.
Not once.
It wasn’t as if he were a social animal. He wasn’t. Yet, he couldn’t say he sealed himself off when he’d lived in London. Doc wouldn’t allow him to, and neither would the other boys who’d become his clan. Kip and Chuff worked in the City and frequently yanked him into a dinner, or a night at the clubs. The other guys came through London on a semi-annual basis, and he’d never turn down any of their invitations. Even Tad had come over a time or two from Istanbul.
So he wasn’t adverse to going out sometimes. And as the days had gone by, and as his attachment to her had grown, he’d wanted to take Ceri somewhere special.
She seems a bit out of place hidden in the wilds of Scotland.
Doc had been right about that, too.
She was hiding. But from what?
It had become clear to him during the last month of living with her, making love to her, falling in love with her…she didn’t want to be seen with him.
Falling in love.
The words had danced in his head over the last couple of weeks, and over the last few days, he’d accepted the reality.
He was in love with Ceri.
Yet she wanted nothing to do with him outside this cottage.
The hurt burned. Burned his brain and his body, and most of all, his heart.
“What would ye like me to do then?” His voice was hoarse with the hurt, but he couldn’t seem to soften his tone. “Shuffle off to the castle and sleep in the small room where my da used to stay in the summer?”
The room the roofers had taken over to store their equipment. The room she’d never mentioned to him when he’d moved into her cottage. He’d found that odd when he’d trailed behind the roofers one afternoon as they’d stored away their tools. When he’d been a wee lad, the room had been used as storage for his mum’s antique finds and his da’s hunting equipment. Yet now, the room held a serviceable bed, a serviceable wardrobe, a serviceable half-bath.
The room also still held his da.
The photo of his mum on the bed stand. The old cardigan hanging by the door his father had worn since Lorne’s childhood. His glasses sitting on top of the pile of books standing ready to be read.
Books that would never be re
ad.
A flash of tears had blinded him in that moment.
He’d wanted to march to the cottage and lift his lover into his arms. Put her into their bed and put himself inside her.
To ease the grief. To soften the pain.
To lose himself in her.
Then ask her…why? Why hadn’t she demanded he stay here in his da’s small room rather than accept him into the cottage?
Instead, he’d stuffed his emotions down, answered a question from one of the MacIntyres, and kept silent about the whole experience.
Because he wanted to talk to Doc, first.
Wouldn’t the Ceri he’d confronted that night he’d moved in have ripped into him? Yelled at him to store his stuff and himself somewhere in the castle, anywhere other than this cottage? Although he’d have had to deal with rollers and welders and power tools?
But she hadn’t.
Strange.
He’d put that on the list of things to talk to Doc about.
“Don’t be ridiculous. The roofing equipment is in there.” Her stiff voice broke into his thoughts. “It’s just very hard to get a hold of Elis at Gordonstoun. And I didn’t really know what to say.”
Didn’t know what to say?
Lifting his head, breaking his concentration on the fine weave of the mat lying under his bowl, he met her gaze. Her eyes, so often warm and welcoming now, were blank.
He really, really needed to talk to Doc.
A further frustration rammed into him, joining his other jangling emotions. Because for the last nine days, his friend had not answered his calls. Doc’s assistant had informed an irritated Lorne that his partner had a family emergency.
Hugh Brooks didn’t have a family.
Not that his partner and best friend knew about.
Doc’s assistant had also told him there was no need for him to come down to London. Everything was well in hand. His friend and partner had left instructions that he should keep coding and keep his focus on Ceri.
He gave the woman across the table from him a good, hard, focused glare. “What do ye mean by not knowing what to say?”
She shifted in her seat, her gaze remaining flat. “It’s all right. Elis will only be here for a week and then he has an internship in London.”
That fact distracted him for a moment. “He does?”
“Yes.” Standing, she walked to the sink and placed her bowl and teacup in it. “I have to go to work.”
“What do ye want me to say to him when he arrives?” Frustration seeped back into his gut.
She turned, her expression indefinable, making him all the more stymied. “Say whatever you want.”
She’d left then. Just left.
And since he didn’t know what to say to her in response, and didn’t have Hugh to confide in, he’d said nothing as she’d walked out.
“Who are ye?” The boy said again from the cottage doorway, his expression turning to puzzlement. “Are ye a worker around here? Is work being done on the cottage?”
He’d have to play this by ear as Doc would say.
He never did well with anything when he played it by ear.
Shite.
“I’m Lorne Ross.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say other than the truth.
The effect of his words was startling. Amazing. Maybe playing it by ear was a course he should pursue more often.
The teenager’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. The backpack slid from his hands onto the stone floor. “You’re…you’re…”
“Lorne Ross.” Did the boy know about the will, and the conflict still lying in wait between his sister and the last Ross? Had the sister confided in her brother?
He braced himself for instant dislike.
“The Lorne Ross who designed Celtae Warrior?” Elis inched into the cottage, his expression starstruck.
Apparently, the boy knew about his games. It made sense. Most of their clientele were boys of this age. Doc usually handled the fairs and expos where fans came, but Lorne had had his share of encounters.
Maybe this wasn’t going to be a hard situation at all. “Yes, that would be me.”
For the first time in his life, he didn’t mind the adulation that came with his career. Before, any of this kind of thing would have made him squirm. He didn’t code to become a star. And he didn’t code for the money, either. He coded because he had to. It was as much a part of him as breathing.
Yet he couldn’t help but be pleased he’d won over Ceri’s brother by merely saying his own name.
Elis tripped on his pack as he surged into the cottage. A flush of embarrassment filled the boy’s face at his clumsiness and something inside Lorne twisted.
He understood.
He understood the dismay of being clumsy. The chagrin when he flushed. He understood not quite knowing what to do with his body and gangly limbs.
“Ceri told me ye wouldn’t want the castle.” Elis peered at him from under shaggy black bangs that didn’t resemble his sister’s elegant fall of dark curls. Lorne realized, though, the boy did resemble his sister in one way.
His eyes.
The same dark-goldenrod eyes gazed at him. This time filled with awe, instead of his sister’s lust.
A lust Lorne wished were love.
“But ye do want the castle, don’t ye?” The lad bounced on his toes, as if this possibility excited him. “I told her ye would.”
“Did ye then.” He didn’t want to discuss the ownership of the castle. If he did this right, if he finally managed to get a hold of Doc and talk through a logical plan of action, it wouldn’t be an issue. Walking to the backpack and suitcase, he swept them into his arms. “Let’s get ye settled in your room.”
“Wait a minute.” Elis stopped mid-bounce. “If ye want the castle, why are ye here in the cottage?”
He could try a lie, or at least a stall. But he’d never been good at either, and what was the point? It wasn’t as if the lad wouldn’t be here tonight to see what was going on. And it wasn’t as if he planned on staying away from Ceri for even one night.
Say whatever you want.
Her words came back to him along with a simmering irritation.
Fine. He’d do exactly what she’d stated. Turning around to meet the boy’s puzzled gaze, he confessed, “your sister and I are in a relationship.”
“What?” The one word cracked in the middle and another flush covered the teenager’s cheeks. “What did ye say?”
A flash of realization stormed inside Lorne. This was his lover’s kin. Her only kin. The boy had a right to know what his intentions were towards his sister. He’d expected to talk through his options with Doc and plot a plan to winning his lover for good. Yet, he couldn’t pretend to this boy that sleeping with his sister was only a casual thing.
“I’m in love with her,” he blurted.
Immediately, his heart clattered a warning in his chest. His brain’s circuits fried in distress. A cold shiver ran up his spine, while a flush of embarrassment rose from his neck to flood his face.
Ceri’s brother gaped at him in shock. “What?”
“Ye heard me.” Swinging around, he stormed down the hall toward the boy’s bedroom.
He’d made a strategic mistake, Doc would almost certainly say. The boy would tell his sister, and since he had no idea what she felt about their relationship and their future, he could have easily rushed ahead of her. His lass wasn’t the type to take chances, and she wasn’t the type to easily love, either. He’d understood that with a latent instinct he hadn’t known he’d possessed until it reared its head and warned him.
Don’t push too hard.
Don’t go too fast.
“Wait!” the teenager called behind him.
Lorne marched into the bedroom and stared at his computer screens with a blind glare.
He’d have to move them. Somewhere.
If the boy behind him confided in his sister, which was likely, maybe he’d be told to take himself and his computers to L
ondon. To perdition. Then they’d have another fight and he’d find himself sleeping on the cramped excuse of a sofa to keep his stake for the possession of the castle intact.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered.
“Ye work here?” A hushed voice came from his side.
He turned to find Elis looking at the computer screens with a dazed stare.
“I’ll move them.”
The teenager glanced at him. “Naw. Don’t.”
“No?” He lifted his brows in surprise.
“Not if ye don’t mind if I watch ye.” Another flush escaped the boy’s control. “I’d love to watch ye code.”
An idea zipped into his brain. “I’ll make ye a deal.”
“Eh?” Elis took his focus off the computers for a second and placed it on him.
“Ye don’t tell your sister what I just confessed and I’ll let ye watch me work for as long as you’d like.”
The boy appeared dazed with instant delight. “Sure. Whatever. I won’t say a word to Ceri.”
“Good.” He dropped the luggage on the floor, his gaze never leaving Elis’ face. “Do ye know how to code?”
“A bit.” The teenager’s eyes lit with fierce emotion. “I’ve taken as many classes as I can, but I want to learn more.”
Lorne often saw that exact emotion in his own eyes, right before he started working. An inkling came to him, as well as an another idea. “Your sister tells me you have an internship in London starting next week.”
A grimace twisted the boy’s mouth. “Aye.”
“What kind of internship?” Crossing his arms in front of him, he ran through the array of possibilities at Gaes. Because clearly, whatever internship the boy had wasn’t one he wanted. Even he, with his negligible people skills, could figure that out.
“Finance.” The lad rolled his eyes. “Ceri thinks I should go into finance because there are good jobs in the field.”
“There are also good jobs in computer graphics and coding.”
“Right. Exactly.” Eagerness filled the two words. “That’s what I keep telling her.”
Digging his mobile from his pocket, Lorne swore internally that if Doc didn’t answer his phone this time, he’d personally drive to London to find him and thrash him.
