by Elise Faber
He closed his eyes, tugging at the swirling twisted memories. He’d gotten up and dressed in his kilt, knowing that CeCe would love it and then his mother and sister had come in with . . . “My mom showed me your journal. You’d written”—he swallowed against the hurt those words, in her own hand, had wrought. “You said it was all a ruse, a way to pay me back for breaking your heart. You’d written that I was just a pawn and you were going to wring every pound out of me then break my heart in revenge—”
“I didn’t.” She shifted so that she was sitting beside him instead of on his lap. “Lana”—his sister—“had borrowed a journal. Ewan told me that one of her friends, Olivia, used to forge notes for you in school. He thought she’d done it, especially”—one half of her mouth curved into a bittersweet smile—“because I’ve never referred to a vacation as a holiday or a trunk of a car as a bonnet or even a shopping cart as a trolley . . .” She trailed off with a shrug. “A lot of things were off about the journal. But perhaps, you had to be me or at least an American, anyway, to see the word choice was completely wrong.”
His throat had tightened the more CeCe talked. Because, of course, she was right. His family hadn’t wanted him to marry Cecelia—both because she was American and also because she wasn’t the woman they’d chosen for him . . . Olivia.
Olivia had been a neighbor, Lana’s closest friend, and she’d also had a crush on him since they were children.
And Olly was beautiful, but she was also weak and went along with everything Lana said. There was also the fact that his mother and sister had thrown them together more times than he could count after the botched wedding.
Not that he’d been having any of that. He’d been too heartbroken and devastated—
Fuck.
If only he’d taken a moment—
“I know it wasn’t just the journal, Col,” she said, resting one hand on his shoulder. “So, talk to me. What else went down, because if it had just been the journal I think we . . .”
“Might have been able to work it out?” he asked, and she nodded. “Yeah. I think you might be right. But it wasn’t just the journal. My mother had receipts for expensive clothes and the wedding dress—”
“I didn’t ask for—”
He laced his fingers through hers. “I know. Now.” He cursed, anger eating at him. Why hadn’t he realized? “But that’s no bloody excuse. I should have known then.”
“It’s okay,” she said, squeezing his hand before exhaling deeply. “I’m guessing the bank account added even more fuel to the fire?” His eyes shot to hers and she nodded. “Ewan told me when he came to confront me at the church. After he realized what was happening, he gave me his phone, had me call you. Do you remember?”
Colin frowned, searching through those memories. “I think so? I started drinking right after the news came out.” Her vaguely recalled the sound of her voice. “What did I say to make you leave?”
A shadow crossed her face. “It doesn’t matter.”
Every cell in his body filled with ice. Because this, this was the truth of what had torn them apart. “It matters, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Tell me.” He didn’t want to know, but at the same time he had to.
Otherwise, it would just hang over them forever.
Tears filled her eyes, but CeCe just blinked them away and lifted her chin. “It wasn’t a big deal,” she said, affecting a casual tone despite him knowing that the memories had to be shredding her up inside. “You just insinuated that the events, well, that they’d made you understand exactly why my parents had disowned me.”
Fuck.
He shot to his feet. “Fuck!”
How could he have said such a thing?
What special kind of bastard was he?
“God.” He thrust a hand through his hair. “I’m such a fucking—”
Hands wrapped around his waist, a shaking chuckle punctuating the action. “Feel better?”
Shocked laughter burst out of him. “No,” he said, turning around so that he could take her in his arms. But she’d managed to slightly temper the anger he felt for his own idiotic actions. Slightly was the key word there because he knew it would take him a long time for him to forgive himself. He’d wasted . . . so much fucking time.
“Damn.” She rose on tiptoe, pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Way to kill the mood, McGregor.”
He smiled at her joke but his words were serious. “I will spend every single day for the rest of my life making it up to you.”
“No.” She shoved at his chest, any trace of amusement fading away. “No. You don’t get to do that, Colin. You don’t get to shoulder everything like it was all your fault. I was there too. I could have done things differently, pushed harder, refused to leave until you knew the truth.” She raised her hands then dropped them back at her sides. “I ran. And I shouldn’t have.”
God, this woman. She was it for him.
Always had been, always would be.
So, when she ended her rant with a firm, “Got it, mister?” he nodded. And when she asked if he wanted to take a walk, he nodded again, got dressed alongside her then grabbed both their coats and helped her into hers.
Colin knew he wouldn’t ever be able to deny her anything.
Cecelia Thiele absolutely owned him.
A little while later they returned from their walk, the tension from their conversation having dissipated along with the fading sunlight.
“Sauna?” he asked, closing the door behind them and rubbing his hands together. CeCe’s nose and cheeks had turned pink in the cold and though she’d assured him repeatedly that she was fine, she was shivering.
“No,” she said. “No sauna.”
Then she unzipped her coat and dropped it to the floor.
“Wait,” he said, rushing over to where she’d left her robe. “Put this on. You’re freezing.”
Her shirt followed her coat. Then her pants. She stood in front of him in a bra, panties, and socks. It might have been the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
“I’m not cold,” she said, walking toward him and yanking down the zipper on his own coat.
“You’re trembling.”
“Because I want you,” she said. “So damned much.”
“Sweet—”
CeCe shoved his coat off his shoulders, started tugging at his shirt. “We’ve talked. We’ve shared all of the old hurts that tore us apart so there aren’t any more secrets. We’ve been mature and adult and”—she sighed—“can’t we just go for it? It’s been so long, Col. I need you.”
“I—”
“Please,” she said. “Please don’t deny me this.”
Colin swept her up into his arms. “I was just going to say, I can do that.”
“Oh.”
“Yes,” he said. “Oh.” He set her on the bed and stared down at her for one long moment. That was all his ragged control could take. Then he reached behind her, unhooked her bra and exposed those gorgeous breasts. Her nipples were hard points, demanding his mouth.
He obliged, sucking one deeply while teasing the other with his free hand.
“Col—” She broke off as he switched sides.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, releasing her and kissing a path down her body. He stopped to tug off her panties, to nibble at one hip, to trace the path of freckles along her waist with his tongue. But those were mere distractions, side trips from what he really wanted.
Which was Cecilia’s wet pussy pressed firmly against his mouth.
And it was wet. He could see it glistening, smell that musky scent even though he was still six inches from the motherland.
Her hips shifted, tilting slightly, legs spreading as he came closer.
“Mmm,” he said. “You want my mouth, sweetheart?”
“Get your tongue inside me, Colin,” she demanded, head dropping back to the cushion and her legs spreading further. “God I’ve dreamed about your mouth on me for so long.”
“You and me both,” he said
and then put them both out of their misery.
One lick sent his arousal sky-high. It threatened to burn him to ash, to snap his last semblance of control. Truly, the only thing that was keeping him focused was how strongly he wanted this to be about Cecilia. He needed to make it perfect for her. He needed to show her how good it could be between them.
The next touch of his tongue shattered something within her.
She gripped his head, pressing it more firmly against her center and ground herself against his mouth.
“More tongue,” she ordered, and who was he to deny her anything? “Oh fuck. Yes. God, Colin. Like that.”
“Mmm,” he murmured, loving the way the sound made her buck and grip his hair tighter. He firmed his tongue, found her clit and unleashed every trick he’d learned over the years.
“No,” she said when he circled instead of flicking his tongue. “The other was be—better. Mmmm,” she moaned.
Goddamn, but there was something unbelievably sexy about a woman knowing what she wanted in bed.
“Like that.” Her breath caught. Her hips jerked and every muscle in her body went granite hard. “Oh, God. Yes. I’m so—mmm—I’m so close, Colin. Please—”
He slid a finger deep, curling it up and forward.
And she shattered.
Feeling her clench around his finger, her hands in his hair, her legs over his shoulders was fucking incredible.
But what was even better was her tugging his head up and kissing him before staring deep into his eyes. “Thank you.” A whisper, but accompanied by a confident smirk that made him want to drop right back down between her thighs and repeat the process from the beginning.
She must have read the intent in his gaze because she grabbed his shoulders then reached behind her into that tote bag of hers.
Out came a string of condoms.
“Any interest in helping me use these?”
Chapter Nineteen
Cecilia
Colin’s lips curving into a grin was just about the sexiest thing CeCe had ever witnessed.
Okay, fine. That was a lie. Even sexier was what happened next.
Namely, Colin making his clothes disappear with all the aplomb of a magician. There wasn’t any room for embarrassment or insecurity. Hell, he’d had his mouth between her thighs mere minutes ago.
But this did feel a little different.
More intimate.
Especially when he hesitated by the side of the bed and just stared at her.
She propped herself up on one elbow, lifting her other hand up to rest on his stomach. “I like the way you look at me,” she said quietly.
There was that grin again.
“I definitely like the look of you, lass.”
“Not that again,” she said, all drama as she flopped back onto the mattress. “You’ll transform me into a puddle of goo at this rate, I swear, McGregor.”
“So long as you let me watch your diddies jiggle like that,” he said, his use of Scottish slang for boobs making her crack up.
“Oh, my God.” She slapped a hand over her mouth to contain her laughter. “You’re terrible.”
“And you have the most incredible breasts I’ve ever seen.”
The intensity in his eyes made her breath catch, but she just tore a condom from the strip and waved it at him. “Enough pretty words. If you truly believe that, then prove it to me.”
She didn’t need to ask twice.
In a heartbeat, he was on top of her and kissing her with all the pent-up passion of a man on the edge. And unlike their other time together, CeCe wasn’t a passive participant.
Nope. This time she got in on the action.
She stroked and squeezed. She petted. She kissed and licked and nipped.
Until she could barely see straight from all the longing.
“Please, Col. I need you inside me now.”
He didn’t argue, just grabbed the little plastic square from near her head, tore it open, and rolled on the condom. He paused, knees between her open legs, cock two inches from where Cecilia needed it. But when she tried to cage him with her thighs and tug him down, he resisted. Instead of sliding home—where they both desperately wanted him to be—he stopped. Waited for her eyes to find his. Colin’s warm palm cupped her face, the pad of his thumb stroking across her cheekbone. “You sure?”
Despite everything—the heat of him so close, her desire raging low and hot and desperate, the past, the present, the secrets she’d yet to reveal—she was sure.
They’d been moving toward this for eight years now.
“I’m sure.”
“You’re amazing,” he said, almost reverent as he nudged at her entrance. “I’ve dreamed about having you in a bed, making up for . . . before. Making it better. Making it everything you wished it had been.”
CeCe wrapped her arms around his shoulders and tugged him down so he was pressed tightly against her chest. “You’re all I ever wished for, Col. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”
He filled her in one stroke, gentle but insistent as he buried himself deep.
Tears blurred her vision.
Because it felt so damned right.
Because this was the piece she’d been missing.
Because . . . Colin.
His hips flexed, drawing back and out before pressing in, deeper and a little harder.
She moaned and he repeated the movement. Then repeated it again. And again. Until the tears dried in her eyes and she was more focused on sensation than feelings.
Until she was groaning and screaming, demanding “More” and “Faster” and “Harder.”
Until she was flying over the precipice and Colin was trailing her, growling her name as he tumbled too.
Until her heartbeat slowed and emotion returned and she was waiting for things to go bad.
For it to be too real for Colin.
For him to get angry and leave.
Except . . . he didn’t.
Instead, he cradled her close for long moments, brushing back her bedraggled hair, pressing a kiss to her temple.
Then, eventually, as though he were supremely reluctant to let her go for even a second, he slipped from the bed with a murmured, “Be right back.”
His footsteps echoed down the hall to the bathroom. She listened to the sounds of the taps turning on and then off before he returned with a washcloth. He cleaned her, returned the towel to the bathroom, and came back to bed.
There weren’t any words exchanged as he pulled her into his embrace and tucked the covers over them.
CeCe didn’t say anything as the sky lit up with green in a breath-stealing display, though the air caught in Colin’s lungs as frequently as it did in hers.
She didn’t speak until Colin’s breath evened out and came in slow inhalations and exhalations.
Only when he was deeply asleep did she dare to murmur the thought that was circling her brain.
“What have I done?”
Chapter Twenty
Cecilia
CeCe shrieked with joy as they went over a huge dune of snow. Dune? Was that even the correct word? She knew there were sand dunes, but were there snow dunes?
Clearly, she’d been out of the Midwest and in California for too long if she couldn’t remember the correct term.
Pile?
Drift? Ah, yes! That was it.
They’d gone up and over, their sled bumping to the ground with a jolt that threatened to steal her breath, but then Colin had his arm around her waist, tucking her safely against his side and all the hard muscles there. He was taking his job of keeping her safely in the basket very seriously, so her breathlessness was purely sexy Scot related.
Also, it was fun.
The dogs were barking as they towed the sled forward, little doggy smiles on their mouths, tails bouncing as they ran.
Adorable. If they weren’t so noisy, she’d almost want a team for herself.
Yup, that would be super practical in California.
H
old on Hunter and Carter, let’s jump on the sled and take the dogs down for a Happy Meal at McDonald’s.
Totally doable, right?
Colin leaned down, the stubble on his chin teasing the skin behind her left ear. “What are you smiling about?”
She turned her head and spoke directly into his ear, so he could hear her over the barking, knowing she had a giant grin on her face. “How much the kids would love this.”
His face softened but his eyes heated, and that space between her thighs, the one that had just been pleasantly filled and stretched and pleased a few hours before, went tight.
And wet.
And Colin apparently knew that because his lips curved up and his tongue flicked against that spot behind her ear that she really, really loved when he teased. “Later,” he said. “Later, I’ll . . .”
And her jaw dropped open as he detailed every dirty thing he planned to do to her when they got back to their cabin.
Her pulse was pounding when he’d finished. Because, damn, his words were better than Abby’s chapter sixteen.
“But first,” he continued, “you’re going to enjoy your sledding and gold panning, and then we’re going to have a nice dinner.”
“And a sauna?” she asked breathless.
“As long as you’re naked and in my arms,” he said, hand tightening on her waist.
Her lips tipped up even as her hand drifted down for a squeeze. “I think that can be arranged.”
“I’ve decided that I don’t like gold panning,” CeCe declared, falling back onto the bed.
Her arms ached, absolutely ached after an hour of shaking the pan from side to side and not finding anything more than silt, rocks, and mud.
“Not convinced you’ll find your fortune in the river?”
“Even if I’d been dreaming of finding a huge nugget, a la Sutter’s Mill, I think that this afternoon would prove I’d be crazy to continue with that fantasy.”
Colin smiled as he plunked down next to her and gathered her in his arms. “What’s Sutter’s Mill?”
“Oh,” Cecilia said, realizing that he probably wouldn’t know much about U.S. history or what had sparked the California Gold Rush. “I got on a Netflix documentary kick awhile back and watched a ton of historical ones. This dude named James Marshall found gold in the 1800s and people came flocking West.”
