“Here.” Lachlan hands me the package and I sit back. Both of his hands securely hold my hips like he’s afraid I might try to escape.
Jiggling the box, I attempt to figure out what’s inside. It doesn’t make much noise.
“Open it.” He nods toward the present.
“It’s not oatmeal, is it?” I tease and wink, trying to defuse some of this inner turmoil I’m battling deep within. He grins, chuckling with his entire body. The amusement crinkling at the edges of his eyes liberates a fraction of my troubles, making me grin, too.
“Na bloody oatmeal. And I won’t try tae feed ye that rubbish again.”
“If it’s rubbish, then why do you eat it?” He eats it a lot, along with bananas. Heck, he eats a lot in general.
“’Cause I like it. . .now open the bloody box, Mags.” He’s getting impatient, but not in his normal growly, I’m King Kong kinda way. It’s more of a nervous impatience. And it’s making me more nervous, too. I don’t wanna open it. Maybe I should just keep the box and pretend that’s my present. You think that’d jive with Mr. Handsome? No? You’re probably right.
“My leannan,” he sighs.
“Yes?” I play dumb.
“Open the box.”
“I’m nervous. . .I don’t like gifts,” I try to delay.
“Ye do tae. Ye’re just a stubborn lassie.”
“I. Am. Not.” I totally am.
“Ye are tae. Now open the bloody box.” Uh oh, he’s moving from nervous growly to angry growly.
Sheesh. . .fine. . .I’ll open the bloody box. Which is white, by the way, and not bloody at all. Him and those words, they get me every time.
Gluing my eyes shut, I lift the lid and toss it in the blanket.
“Open yer eyes.” He’s getting growlier.
“You said to open the box. Not that I had to do it with my eyes open.” Ha, I win.
“Stop bein’ a pain in my arse and look at it.”
“But I—”
To shut me up, Lachlan claims my mouth again, delivering a hot and sensuously mind-blowing kiss. I part my lips for him, and moan when his tongue lightly caresses mine before he emits a hungry growl to seize more, and I let him take it all.
My body’s flickering flame roars to life once again. Slick heat boils between my thighs and I grind my hips on his erection. I can’t wait another second. I need it. I need to come. I’ve waited too long.
Suddenly, he jerks away, leaving me wanton and breathless. My body shakes and my stiff nipples ache, craving more. I try to attack his lips again, but he moves away, his back nearly dropping to the ground. Pouting, I groan a needy protest, and he grins. He flippin’ grins at me! With his lips red and thoroughly used, and his chest pistoning for air, he’s grinning. Damn, I love that look. It makes me want to do so much more, like ravage him. But right now, I hate it. It’s a grin of knowing. A grin of his retreated desire. Gah!
“Now look.” He licks his bottom lip, his voice raw.
Fine.
I peer inside the white box.
On top of a little puff of cotton is a silver bangle with three charms. A circle, a moon, and a tiny, round diamond.
Lachlan plucks it from within, snatches my hand before I get a chance to yank it away, and he slips it on. It fits perfectly on my wrist.
Raising it to eye level, I marvel at the charms. The circle’s engraved and says I love you. I swallow thickly, trying not to cry. Next to that, the crescent shape that curves around the circle reads to the moon and back. A single tear escapes and slides down my cheek, and Lachlan catches it with his thumb and wipes it on his shirt. This is just too much.
“Do ye like it?” He sounds so vulnerable right now. It makes my chest ache.
Timidly lifting my gaze to meet his, I finger my charms and massage my thumb over the beautiful engravings. “Yes, thank you. I love it.” My bottom lip trembles, so I suck it into my mouth to stop it.
“I do mean those words, my leannan. . .my beloved.”
His beloved? It. . .oh.
Incapable of controlling myself, I throw my arms around his neck and lay my head on his pec. Another tear slides free, soaking into the cotton of his shirt. “You’ve been calling me that a long time,” I mumble.
“Aye.” His hands caress my back, up and down, softly.
“That word means beloved?” Another tear slips down my cheek, and I suck in a sharp breath, my emotions bubbling to the surface.
“Aye, it means beloved. ‘Cause that’s what ye are, my leannan.”
“Oh, wow.” I nuzzle my nose to his heavenly scented chest as more tears threaten to flow. My nose burns. “You are just too. . .I dunno. . .that’s a lot to take.”
“I cannae deny what I feel. I’ve tried tae, but I felt somethin’ that day when. . .” His hand brushes my hair to the side, and he traces the scar on my neck. The very place his finger plugged the hole to save my life. “Holdin’ ye in my arms, ye’re blood coverin’ me, it felt different than before. Different than all the others I’ve rescued. Shit, I dunno how else tae explain it. I’m bloody terrible at talkin’ aboot my feelin’s.” He sighs, crestfallen.
“You’re doing a fine job,” I encourage through an emotionally clogged throat, knowing that I want to hear this—that I need to.
He continues. “Yer blood on my hands scared the hell outta me, but it also did somethin’ else. It made me feel. That’s why I wanted tae take ye in. That’s why I couldn’t leave the hospital. I tried tae stay away, and Pip tried tae convince me tae give ye some space. But I was too fuckin’ selfish. I couldn’t do it. I needed tae see that ye were all right.”
“You freaked me out in the hospital,” I admit.
“I know I did. I kept starin’ at ye tae make sure ye were still breathin’. And my cock kept gettin’ hard when I did.”
“It did?” I whisper like it’s a secret, my lips pressed to his shirt.
“Aye, it did. And still does. Never had this reaction tae a lassie before.”
I hope that’s a good thing. I think it is.
“What does that mean?”
One of his hands cuffs around the back of my neck once again, as the other traces designs along my back. It’s like he’s deep in thought and his hands are subconsciously acting on their own accord.
He clears his throat. “It means that before ye came into my life, I hadn’t. . .ye know. . .gotten off. . .in at least five months, maybe longer. I cannae remember.”
That’s a long time for a man not to touch himself.
“Was that normal for you? Is it because of the puking?” I ask.
“Aye. Since that started, I’ve tried tae do it as little as possible. Four tae five times a year for the past five years.”
“Then I came along and screwed it up,” I mumble, internally berating myself for doing this to him.
If I hadn’t gone into that freakin’ gas station and gotten hurt, then he wouldn’t be getting sick like he does. He could have controlled it, and then I wouldn’t be here sitting on his lap, my head on his chest, and my arms around his neck. Sometimes life wields a double-edged sword. It’s cruel and lovely all at the same time. Because I wouldn’t have changed any of that, not even Meredith kicking the crap outta me. Not the damage to Viola. Not even my broken leg and arms. I wouldn’t change any of that if I knew that it would lead me to this moment. A moment where the man I know I. . .lo. . .you know...is holding me and expressing things that I’m sure he’s never told anyone else. I just wish that could be perfect. But life’s not that simple, and there are still complications that me coming into his life has caused—sickness. And for that, I sort of hate myself.
His fingers tighten around my neck, causing my thoughts to pause. “I have tae fuck my fist every day, my leannan,” he growls, hostilely. “But, me needin’ tae do that is not yer fault. Ye bein’ smart, and beautiful, and bloody sexy is not a fault. It’s my gift. A gift I would happily die tae keep, even if that meant I had tae puke every day for the rest of my fuckin’ life. .
.” Expelling heated curses under his breath and grumbling in his throat, he pauses a beat to reel in his ire. The hand on my neck relaxes, and I snuggle my cheek over his pec.
He called me sexy, beautiful, and smart. What did I ever do to be blessed with such a great man? Another tear slips free, and I blink it away.
Lachlan sighs. “I found the bracelet and thought I’d show ye how I feel all the time. Even if I cannae express it like I wish I could, that’s how I feel, ye know.”
“I know you do. I trust you.”
He really. . .loves. . .me. . .me. . .me. I can hardly believe it no matter how many times it tumbles through my brain. It feels like a dream. All of it does.
“And I dinnae expect ye tae. . .ye know. . .say it b—”
“Lachlan,” I cut him off and bring my hands down to clutch the front of his shirt. “I. . .I need to process. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel the. . .the same. You’ve just been so unclear. You can’t be my friend. You can’t give me what I need. You tell me these things, and now you’re telling me this. . .something different. It’s. . .um—”
“Fucked up,” he interjects.
I shake my head. “No. I was going to say confusing.”
“I cannae be yer friend, Mags, ‘cause of these feelings. And even though I know I cannae give ye what ye need, it dinnae mean I won’t try. I know I dinnae deserve ye, but I’m gonna take what I can get. I’m bloody selfish like that.” He laughs humorlessly.
“You’re not selfish,” I defend.
“Aye, I am. With ye, I am. And I won’t apologize for it. That’s never gonna bloody change.”
“I don’t want it to. I like that you like me that much.” I rub my cheek against him.
“I dinnae like ye, Mags. I’m fuckin’ in love with ye,” he states proudly, like he doesn’t care what people think, or if I say it back. It feels like the winds have changed and he’s no longer going to push me away. I pray that I’m right, and that my gut’s spot on.
I sit back and wipe away the tears from my eyes before meeting his gaze. My hands cup his jaw, and the scruff scratches my palm. His jaw tightens, and I feel it flex under my touch. “I care for you, too. Now, why don’t you show me how much you care for me, and let me try to show you how much I care for you?” Still holding eye contact, I drop one hand and slip it between us to palm his cock over his jeans. He sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes smoldering. Involuntarily, he thrusts into my eager hand. He wants this, I can feel it. He just doesn’t want to want it.
He starts. “If I get—”
“I don’t care if you get sick or not. I want to touch you, and I’m dying for you to touch me, too.”
Closing his eyes in pain, he dips his head and wraps his arms around my back to pull me in for a hug. My hand slips off his cheek and hooks around his neck, holding him. Laying his head on my shoulder, his lips touch the crook of my neck, and his hot breath tingles my wanton flesh. “I,” he samples my skin with the sweep of his tongue, and I whimper, “want tae touch ye. And I promise I’ll try tae let ye touch it.”
Affectionately, I rub his back. “It’s not an it. It’s part of you. And I want to touch that part of you. I want to touch every part.” I can’t believe I just admitted that aloud. But it feels right to tell him. He needs to know that I find him sexy, and that includes his dick. Because I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t dreamt about it endlessly.
Disengaging from our embrace, he sits back and I flatten my palms to his chest, pushing him until his back is to the blanket. With a devilish grin, I reach between us and run my nail over his straining cock.
“He’s ready,” I state brazenly, trying hard to sound sexy and confident, even though I’m neither of those things.
“Aye,” he croaks, swallowing hard, the knot of his Adams apple bouncing.
Seizing my hand, he flips me onto my back, him on top, my legs spread as he settles between them. His thickness nestles against my core, as his hands brace on either side of my head. I wrap my legs around his waist, my heels digging into his firm butt.
“It’s beautiful here,” I whisper, spending more time looking at my body locked under his, than where we are. It could be Mars for all I care, as long as his delicious weight never moves.
“The tent. . .” He tilts his head to the side, never taking his eyes off me. “It has flaps that I’ve unzipped so ye can see the stars. We cannae stay out here; the mosquitoes will bite yer tits and arse. And I dinnae wanna share ye with them.”
My pitch squeaks with amusement “You don’t want to share me with mosquitoes?”
“Aye.” He nods. “I dinnae wanna share ye with anyone or anythin’; especially not those bloody fuckers.”
I giggle. I can’t help it. It just comes barreling out. He’s being serious. This isn’t a joke. Therefore, this is probably the sweetest and the most oddly romantic thing that anyone has ever said to me.
Lachlan’s eyes narrow, darkening around the edges. “It’s not funny, my leannan.”
“Yes, it is. It’s adorable.” I giggle some more.
“Ye’re not supposed tae be laughin’ when I’ve got my cock this close tae yer pussy,” he grumbles, and shuts me right up when he thrusts his hips, hitting my sweet spot on the first try.
My back arches involuntarily. “Lachlan,” I breathe, so he does it again, harder this time. Blowing out a needy groan, my eyes roll into the back of my head as I feel his thrust hit deep, making me shudder, every part of me coiling tight, ready to detonate.
“Inside,” he growls, and then he’s rolling off and standing up. The loss of his weight makes me want to complain, but I don’t. Offering me his hand, I gladly accept, and he yanks me to my feet. Stumbling a little, Lachlan’s arm quickly curls around my waist, steadying me before he pulls me flush to his side and drops a sweet kiss on my temple.
“Rules, before we go in the tent,” he mutters, his lips brushing the side of my head, along the edge of my hair. “I will touch ye anywhere I bloody well want. And ye can touch me, but if I tell ye tae stop, ye have tae stop.”
“Okay,” I murmur.
At this point, if he asked me to pat my belly and rub my head for three hours just to see him naked again, I’d do it. I’m a fiend, and that body of his is out of this flippin’ world. What makes that even more special is the man underneath it all is out of this galaxy. I’m so excited and scared all at the same time that I’m ready to jump out of my damn skin.
Together, Lachlan unzips the tent and we duck inside. The ceiling is practically missing, as a screen exposes the stars trying to breach the dusk sky. It’s lovely.
A small battery operated lantern and a layer of colorful blankets is all that lies before us. Lachlan removes his hand from my hip to pull his shirt over his head, uncovering all of those tight ridges of flawless muscle that I can’t help but admire. Over his heart, he bears the MacAlister clan crest. My eyes dip lower, really, truly, looking at him for the very first time without blinders; I see the flames rising from his side as clouds of smoke swirl over his chest and abs. I swallow thickly at the glorious sight.
He tosses his shirt to the corner of the tent and runs a hand over his rippling abs. “Do ye like what ye see?” He’s not being cocky; he genuinely wants to know.
Oh, I likey. I likey a lot. My mouth waters in recognition, and I bite my lip. “You’re perfect,” I whisper under my breath, not sure if I’m talking to God, or Lachlan, or acknowledging it aloud to myself. It doesn’t matter because it’s the truth.
Lachlan flushes red and immediately turns away, slipping off his boots and socks. They, too, join the pile he’s started in the corner. I take a step forward and run my hands along his broad, beautiful back, that’s inked with scrolling scripture. Goosebumps sprout across his skin, and he shivers under my faint touches.
Wrapping my arms around him, my chest to his back, my palms resting on his abs, I press a kiss between his shoulder blades. His skin is smooth and hot beneath my lips. He turns to steel in my arms, his body f
rozen in time, as breath ceases to expel from his lungs. “You are beautiful.” I kiss him again and glide my hands down to the front of his jeans. I slip my hands into the waistband, feeling nothing underneath but hair-sprinkled skin.
“You’re not wearing any boxers,” I mutter wickedly, slipping one hand deeper to grasp his thickness in my hand. It throbs, hot and hard, in my palm, coated in slickness from his pre-come. I stroke him, and a tremor rocks through his body as he expels a rushed groan and his hips pitch forward. “Mags,” he croaks, his voice wavering with both fear and excitement.
“I’ve got you.” I work my other hand on his button and fly. Thankfully, he’s not wearing a belt.
Freeing him, I drop his pants to his ankles and use my foot to help. “Step out, sweetheart,” I instruct in a whisper, pressing another kiss to his back. He complies, and I kick his jeans over toward the corner. They don’t quite make it, but I don’t care. I’ve got my man naked, and my hands are all over him. More importantly, he’s letting me do this, even though this has to be eating at him.
One hand wrapped around his thickness, my fingers unable to touch, I run my other over the head, catching more pre-come. The silkiness feels amazing between my fingers, and I use it to slide up his shaft. His legs nearly give out as he fumbles a husky groan.
His hand seizes mine, stopping me from stroking him again. “My leannan,” he rasps in agony and need. This is hard, and it breaks my heart just thinking about how difficult this has to be for him.
Folding his fingers through mine, I raise our joined hands to lay on his stomach as my other stays wrapped around his dick. “Sweetheart, let’s lie down and we can touch each other.” I nuzzle my nose to his spine, inhaling deeply to get high on his scent. God, he smells so good.
Then, with difficulty, I let go and take a step back, but he doesn’t turn around. Instead, he moves to the blankets with his hand covering his erection. I watch the flex of his glutes as he kneels in the cotton before lying on his side. He pats the spot next to him with glazed eyes staring up at me with uncertainty. “Lay, my leannan.” His tone is gruff, but in a good way.
Beyond Her Words (Corrupt Chaos MC) Page 34
