He gripped her waist and lifted her as though she weighed nothing at all, guiding her legs around him. He pushed inside her, seating himself to the hilt. His lips moved against her drenched hair. “You’re so tight. Sure you’re not too sore from that last fuck?”
She shouldn’t love dirty talk like this, but her stomach dipped and twisted at his words. He woke something inside her. A primal earthiness that demanded release. He made her feel like a goddess. Like the last woman on earth.
“I’m fine.” Contrary to her denials, she was a little sore and swollen and he actually felt bigger inside her than the last time, but somehow that made it better, the feeling more intense. Who cared if she couldn’t walk tomorrow?
He fucked her into the shower wall, his thrusts long and heavy, grinding deep inside her so he hit that hidden spot, the thick crown of him rubbing where no one had touched before. She cried out, the pleasure white hot and blinding, dancing the fine line of pain.
“Niall!” She lifted higher, away from his cock. Again, it was too much. The sensations overwhelming. She didn’t know how to take it.
He grabbed her hips and forced her down, seating her on him. His hard gaze pinned her. “Milk my cock. Come for me, sweetheart.”
“Not again—”
“Again,” he commanded, his own movements losing rhythm as he grew frantic, his strokes rough and without restraint against her.
She surrendered, sinking onto his member, her inner muscles squeezing like a fist around him, milking him as he commanded.
With a guttural cry, he came, shooting off inside her.
Her thighs clenched around him as her orgasm followed fast and brutal. She flew apart, sharp cries exploding from her lips. Her vision went black for a moment as she hugged him tightly, dragging her nails down his back.
He pulled back and stared at her. For the first time she saw a crack in his stoic mask. The same astonishment she felt was there, peeking out from the fissures.
He turned away, shutting off the water and lifting her out of the shower. He dried her off like she was helpless. Honestly, she was still shaking and probably couldn’t have lifted her arms. She wasn’t too certain she could manage it.
Once they were both dry, he carried her back to his bed and placed her in the center. She was glad for that. Glad he had answered the question of whether they were done yet and where she would sleep for the night.
He slid in next to her, pulling the covers over them. She gazed at his beautiful face, the lines and hollows all the more stark in firelight. The dark glitter of his blue eyes brought emotions she dared not examine swimming to the surface. This was a fling. That was all it was. That was enough.
Smiling, she reached out and stroked his mouth, tracing those lips she longed to paint. His beard tickled her palm.
He caught her palm and pressed a slow kiss to it. “Promise me you’ll be here in the morning,” he growled against her skin.
She chuckled. “And where would I go?”
He frowned, his eyes deep and grim. “If yer no’ real, you could disappear.”
She wasn’t so sure, but she thought he might be a touch serious. “I’m real. I won’t disappear,” she promised. A yawn escaped her.
“Sleep,” he ordered.
“Always so bossy.” But she closed her eyes and fell asleep anyway.
~
Goldilocks could only hope that the foul-tempered bear controlled his impulses and didn’t devour her during the night…
~
The storm raged through the night.
Thea slept restlessly as it battered against the shutters. At least she told herself it was the storm and not the giant bearded Scot in bed beside her.
She was unaccustomed to sleeping with a man. She and Charlie had never lived together. Even when one of them did stay over at the other’s place, they each kept to their own sides of the bed as though some invisible barrier ran down the middle. Not Niall. His body had to be touching hers at all times.
She woke hugging the edge of the mattress to feel his arm wrapping around her waist and hauling her against him. She sighed and snuggled into him, feeling his erection prodding her backside. He was insatiable. She might have rubbed against him. Maybe she was insatiable, too, because she couldn’t stop herself from arching her spine and moving into the perfect position so his cock aligned with the lips of her pussy. She rubbed against him until he was sliding slippery against her.
Sore or not, she wanted more.
She’d be gone tomorrow and she wanted her fill.
He must have had a similar thought. He’d grabbed her by the waist and guided her to her knees. “You haven’t had enough yet?”
She was still groggy at his first thrust inside her, but that didn’t last long. He grabbed a fistful of hair at the back of her head and pulled, arching her throat so he could bite down on her neck. Tears smarted her eyes. The pleasure was so acute, edging pain.
“Say you need more cock,” he rasped against her skin, his fingers tightening in her hair as he held his throbbing cock inside her.
“I need more cock.”
“My cock,” he instructed.
“I need more of your cock.”
He gave it to her then, pulling out and pushing in deep.
He let go of her hair and her head dropped like a limp noodle, unable to support herself. He kept her upright on all fours though. His hands grabbed her hips, fingers digging deep to all her generous flesh, anchoring her for him as he took her from behind, deep and steady, the rhythm building until she was moaning and rocking back into his every lunge. It was a different position, the glide of his cock inside her hitting all new nerves.
She climaxed with soft, shuddering sighs, her hands fisting the bedsheets. He fucked her a little longer, collapsing over her with a groan when he came, his big body crushing her, but she didn’t care. She reveled in the delicious weight of him.
She barely remembered him rolling off her or pulling her to his side.
She dozed off for a while.
She remembered the question that came later, however, spoken into her ear and rousing her from sleep when the first gray of dawn started to lighten the room.
“Why are you here? In Scotland?”
She smiled sleepily, rolling over to look at his serious, handsome face. “I’m on my honeymoon.”
She felt him stiffen. His next words fell hard and accusing, his eyes cutting. “You said yer alone here.”
“I am.” She yawned, still sleepy. It had been an exhausting night. “He dumped me.”
He didn’t respond to that. Frown lines creased his forehead as he stared at her. She traced her fingers over the lines, trying to relax them. “It’s okay. I’m glad. You’re a much better lover,” she teased.
His scowl deepened and he came up on his elbows over her again. “That’s verra good to know.”
“What about you? Ever been on a honeymoon?” She knew even in her drowsy state she was fishing for information about this man, and she didn’t care. It was a one-night stand. She’d already thrown all her rules out the window. She could say anything she wanted.
“Aye. A long time ago.”
“Ah. So you’re…divorced.” God, she hoped he wasn’t married. It made her sick to think she had possibly done all the things she had done with a man who belonged to another woman.
“Not divorced. But she’s gone now. She and my daughter are gone. I lost them both.”
He’d been a family man. He had a wife and child.
And he lost them.
She sat up on an elbow and looked down at him, seeing him fully with his wounds laid bare before her.
She glanced around the cottage, understanding. It was the home of a man cut off from the world. Someone who didn’t want to share his life with anyone because he’d loved so much and lost so much and it destroyed him.
She considered that, wondering if anyone would be that wrecked if something happened to her. She honestly didn’t think so.
&nbs
p; She looked at him and touched his face. For a moment, it seemed he would pull away from her hand, but he allowed it. Tears pricked her eyes. Sadness for the wife and daughter he lost. And for him…for the man left behind.
“They must have loved you very much.” She knew that because she would have loved him—a man who loved so completely his heart died right alongside his family.
Maybe she already did love him a little.
He blinked. She didn’t know what he expected her to say, but she sensed she had surprised him.
He ended up saying nothing. He kissed her then. It was different than their other kisses. This one was long and deep and tender. She was moaning and aroused as he shoved her legs apart and entered her in one smooth thrust.
She gasped. “You really like to do this a lot.”
“It’s been a while,” he growled against her mouth.
“Me too,” she panted as he stroked deep inside her, driving her into the mattress. “My ex wasn’t really into sex.”
“He’s a fucking bampot.”
She assumed that was an insult. She couldn’t really form the words to ask. He was moving faster and kissing her harder and she was coming again in a violent burst. He climaxed soon after her with that groan she was coming to know well. She’d hear it in her dreams, long after she left this place.
Once finished, they rolled apart. She brought the sheet back over her. “You really know how to wear a girl out.” Smiling, she tucked her hand beneath her cheek, already feeling the pull of sleep again. Her eyes drifted shut.
“I wouldn’t want you to leave unsatisfied.”
The smile slipped from her face. So he still expected her to leave. Naturally. Of course.
She cleared her throat. “Do you think the road is clear yet?”
He was silent for several moments, and she opened one eye to look at him. He wore that surly expression again. “I’ll go check in a while.”
She nodded, a hollow feeling spreading throughout her chest. She would leave soon. Maybe even in a few hours. She’d be on a tour bus with a group full of Americans by the end of the day, no sexy brogue whispering naughty things in her ear.
She’d have one hell of a story to tell Gina. That gave her a small jolt of pleasure. Until she realized this would soon be reduced to a story. A memory.
One that would only fade and grow dim with time.
~
Soon the storm passed, and Goldilocks began to wonder if the bear wasn’t so foul-tempered after all…if the bear was perhaps a little bit wonderful.
~
When Thea woke again sunlight was streaming into the room and the bed was empty. She sat up, holding the covers close to her chest as she glanced around the house.
“Niall?” she called.
No answer. She could almost believe she dreamed him up if not for the soreness between her legs. Last night had happened. She’d had sex multiple times with a too hot guy and it had felt just right. Nothing had ever felt as right in her life. She released a shuddering breath.
She slipped from the bed and padded barefoot into the bathroom. She reached for her clothes, testing them. Mostly dry.
Turning on the shower, she jumped in and quickly washed herself. Her skin was chafed from his beard in several places. Her neck, breasts. Between her thighs. Heat flamed her face when she recalled those places his beard had been. Finished, she emerged from the shower and was wrapping a towel around herself as the door to the bathroom opened.
Niall stepped inside and the space seemed to shrink. He was dressed, wearing a jacket, sweater, and jeans. The crisp scent of wind clung to him. Clearly, he’d been outdoors.
She felt shy. Dressed and with the bright light of day between them, she remembered she knew next to nothing about this man. “Good morning.”
Instead of returning the greeting, his eyes raked her up and down as she stood there dripping with his towel wrapped around her. After some moments, he asked in his taciturn way, “Hungry?”
“Yes, food would be good.”
Turning, he left her in the bathroom.
She dressed in her clothes that were fully dry now and emerged as he was pulling toast from a toaster. Eggs cooked in a pan on the stove. She inhaled the delicious aroma. He glanced at her and went back to scrambling eggs.
“Smells yummy. Can I help with anything?” she asked, trying not to feel awkward.
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug.
Okay. She watched him a moment longer and then moved into the kitchen area, opening cabinets until she located the plates. She removed two and moved to stand by him at the stove.
He didn’t say anything as she held one out. He glanced at it and then scooped eggs onto the plate. She held out the other one and he followed suit. She reached for the toast, placing one on each plate.
She turned for the table and set them down, each one across from each other. She turned to fetch utensils, but he already had them. He nodded at her and set a fork on the side of each plate. “Sit. Eat.”
She obliged, trying not to feel uncomfortable as she watched him move about the kitchen space. He fetched butter and what looked like a jar of jam from the refrigerator. “You drink coffee?” he asked, reaching for the pot that was already made.
“Yes. Thank you.” He brought two mugs over and poured the steaming liquid into one for her. She stared at his hands, the tapering fingers and short-nailed blunt tips. Her face warmed remembering their texture, the sensation on her skin. How strong they felt. How safe and worshipped and so very right they’d made her feel. No one ever made her feel like that. For one brief, terrifying moment she worried no one ever would again. Then, she shook off the fear. If that were true, then at least she had last night. She’d cherish that memory.
She lifted the mug to her face and inhaled the wonderful aroma, trying to act composed. “It smells great.” She took her first savoring sip, letting the caffeine seep into her system.
They ate in silence for a while and she marveled that he had spoken more during sex. There was nothing about this man that smacked of shyness or reticence. Light of day brought reality. If he wasn’t talking to her now it was because he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to talk to her.
She moistened her lips and reached for her slice of toast. “When do you think you’ll check on the road?”
“Already did.”
She froze as she held a slice of toast to her lips. He’d already checked the road? He’d said nothing about it to her. “You did?”
He drank from his mug, staring at her over the rim. “Aye,” he answered as he set his coffee back down on the table. “Water’s still too high to cross.”
“Oh.” The news left her with mixed feelings. She wanted to stay. She didn’t want last night to be all there was. But she wanted him to want her to stay … with the same desperate hunger she felt, with the same longing. “I’m sorry for putting you out.”
He stared at her silently.
She moistened her lips. “I’m sure you have things to do. Please don’t let me inconvenience you. Don’t let me keep you from what you need to do today.”
What else could she say? This man had never wanted her here. He’d made that abundantly clear. They’d had their one-night stand and she couldn’t even do him the courtesy of hitting the road after it was done. She’d never had a one-night stand, but she knew how they worked. That’s why they were called one-night stands.
And then suddenly it was important she ask. Important she knew. She cleared her throat and lifted her chin. “Do you want me to stay?”
Maybe it was just her ego at work, demanding to hear him say he wanted her here. As seconds ticked by, she repeated the question. “Do you want me to stay?”
“There’s not really a choice right now, is there?” He stabbed some egg onto his fork. “There’s no getting through the road. Maybe tomorrow, but more than likely the day after. It should be passable then.”
So another day. Maybe two.
She fought against the e
xcitement that threatened to overwhelm her. This was forced proximity. He wasn’t saying he’d like her to stay.
“That’s not what I asked you.” She held his gaze and spoke slowly, enunciating each word. “Do you want me to stay here?”
He stared at her, still frustratingly mute, not offering what she craved to hear, what she needed to hear. After last night, she had to know. Was this truly a one-night stand?
Or was something more happening here?
Please, let it be more.
She knew what she wanted him to say, but as they regarded each other in silence, she grew certain she wasn’t going to hear what she wanted. He wasn’t capable of telling her what he didn’t feel.
Of course, something more wasn’t happening here. She’d shown up here unwanted and unwelcomed and had a surprising night of sex with a too hot guy. Great sex. But it was just sex and now it was over.
She knew what she had to do.
Thea pushed up from the table and carried her dishes to the sink. She made quick work of washing them and putting them in the dish rack to drain. She wouldn’t leave him with more work because of her. She would clean up after herself, and it would be like she was never here. A pang near her heart accompanied that thought.
She heard his chair scrape back from the table. He carried his dishes to the sink where she worked. “Allow me.” She smiled tightly and reached to take them from him. “You cooked, after all. It’s the least I can do.”
She gripped the plates, and then realized he wasn’t giving them up. She looked up at him, angling her head inquiringly.
They shared a long look, full of the heat and the memory of last night. It hovered between them a crackling, palpable thing. She held her breath, hoping he would do something. Say something. Touch her. Kiss her. Throw her down on the bed and never let her leave.
That didn’t happen. Because that would be crazy. The stuff of movies and romance novels. Not reality.
He released the plates into her hands and turned away. His solid footsteps thudded across the house. He paused near the door and lifted his jacket off a wall hook and slipped it on. “I’ll be back later.”
Glamour Page 29
