Scottish Swag

by Cristina Grenier

  He didn’t really have an appetite for food at the moment, but he was sure that bending his publicist over the nearest available flat surface to feast on her would be highly frowned upon. So, lunch would have to do.

  “Right. Lunch.”

  They were headed towards a little French cafe when a loud shout caught their attention. Torran looked over his shoulder and grimaced to see that the media they shook outside his office had somehow found them. No less than ten reporters were hurrying towards them, microphones and notepads at the ready. “Fuck.”

  “What is it?” Savannah turned to see what worried him and her eyes widened. As prepared as she was to face the media when she had scheduled it, impromptu meetings flustered her just as much as they annoyed him. “Oh no.”

  “Come with me.” Taking her by the hand, Torran yanked her into the nearest shop - Burberry - and yanked something from the rack before the shopkeeper could even say hello. “Dressing rooms. Move.”

  “Wait - Torran -” He had gotten them both into one of the luckily sizeable dressing rooms before she could protest too much. Once the door had shut behind them, all they could do was hold their breath and hope the reporters didn’t follow.

  “Here.” He hadn’t even looked at what he took from the rack, and he thrust it at Savannah. “That’s our excuse.”

  The dark-haired woman raised the garment against herself and her eyes went the size of saucers. It was a floor length gown made of sleek navy lace - and completely transparent. “Put it on.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” She hissed, incensed. “This is...it’s underwear.”

  That got Torran to take a good look at what exactly she was holding. Despite the situation, his cock jumped in his slacks. “If you don’t try it, the woman outside will boot us. Is that what you want?”

  Groaning, Savannah shook her head. She glanced at the door, listening hard for sounds of reporters, before looking back at him. Her eyes narrowed in determination. “Close your eyes.”

  Torran would be damned if he’d be robbed of the vision that was Savannah in barely anything at all; but if the way she was looking at him was any indication, she’d rather put his eyes out than let him see her less than decent. “Close your eyes, Torran.”

  He shut them just to appease her, just as the shop assistant’s voice came through the door. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

  “No!” Savannah’s voice came back shrill and decidedly guilty. “We’ve got it, thanks.”

  “Just let me know if you need something!” Torran risked cracking his eyes open and was met with the sight of Savannah’s bare back. She was shimmying out of the dress she wore, and Torran swallowed thickly as the fabric slid over her ample hips to pool on the floor. She wasn’t wearing anything overly provocative beneath - a plain white bra and cotton panties - but to Torran, it might have well been silk and lace.

  Goddamn, she was perfect. He watched, no longer preoccupied with pretending he wasn’t, as she stepped into the dress he’d selected and pulled it carefully up over long legs to her waist. From there, she slipped her arms into the sleeves and straightened, trying in vain to do up the zipper in the back.

  Though he had no intention of doing anymore shopping, Torran wanted to buy this dress. Not because she could wear it to an event - but just so he could run his hands over her in it. All that smooth, dark skin contrasted so beautifully with the navy lace. He could only imagine what it would be like to inch that fabric up over her hips and feel the silkiness of her thighs against him. To listen to her little gasps and moans of pleasure as he sampled the long line of her neck, the fullness of her breasts…

  Then, all at once, he was moving forward. It was almost as if Torran was watching himself do it. His hands covered Savannah’s where she was attempting to do up her zipper and she inhaled sharply as he dragged it upward over the line of her spine. “Torran, you-”

  She turned, only to have him catch both hands in his as he pressed her back against the wall of the dressing room. Whatever words she’d been about to say died on her lips at the look in his eye.

  He wasn’t supposed to touch her - he knew that damn well. He was supposed to be pretending that they had never kissed in the first place. But how was he supposed to resist when she looked so fucking tempting? Her breasts pushed high in her bra beneath the intricate pattern of the lace and her curls spilling over her shoulders…

  When his knee wedged firmly between her legs, a long breath escaped her, but she didn’t try to escape, her gaze never leaving his. Despite all that arguing and all those demands, she wanted this just as much as he did - and Torran wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. When he lowered his head to kiss her, Savannah met him halfway, arching up against the hard lines of his body.

  And in that moment, he knew she was his.

  Chapter 8: Irresistible

  She was shameless. Utterly and completely shameless.

  But that sure as hell didn’t stop Savannah from kissing him. She’d known he was watching her - even after she told him to close his eyes. But when he touched her - God, it was like lightning right to the core of her. She had never wanted someone so badly in her life - she, who would rather further her career than date a man any day of the week.

  But when Torran’s mouth covered hers, what she wanted more than anything else was him inside her. When he released her to wind his arms around her waist, she could feel the material of his suit through a thousand minute holes in the lace garment she wore, and she longed to rip it from him. A soft moan escaped her as his tongue swiped over her lower lip before he bit at the corner of her mouth enticingly. When her own tongue flickered out to meet his, he groaned, low in his throat, pressing his knee more firmly up against the crux of her legs.

  Fire blossomed in the pit of her stomach and Savannah found herself rubbing against him like a cat in heat. Her nipples stiffened almost painfully against the cups of her bra and her hands rose to sift through his auburn hair almost desperately. She needed this. Needed him - no matter how much he infuriated her.

  The pressure he put against the most intimate part of her was exquisite. Arching her hips greedily against him, Savannah gasped when his mouth left hers to burn its way down her throat to the neckline of her barely-there dress. She should stop him. They were in a very public place and she’d promised herself she wouldn’t fall prey to his ridiculous allure again, but when he plumped a breast upward until it popped from the neckline of her dress, she was too shocked to do much of anything.

  In the next moment, Torran had taken her straining nipple between his eager lips and a soft whimper of pleasure escaped her. Every muscle in her body went taut as he licked at the small bud of flesh before tugging at it sharply with his teeth.

  As liquid pleasure shot through Savannah, she struggled to keep her footing. It felt as if she could barely breathe. When Torran released her nipple with relish only to pepper it with small, hungry bites, her thighs quivered. She rubbed against the thick, muscular thigh between her legs unabashedly, the friction there making her gasp. He wasn’t even touching her but she felt her body hurtling towards what promised to be an explosive orgasm.

  When her fingers curled almost desperately into the nape of his neck, Torran growled appreciatively, a hand creeping up to tug and tease at her opposite breast, still trapped in the bra. When he started suckling at her nipple again, it was like the world contracted to the point between her legs. A few more eager thrusts of her hips against him - of delicious friction against her throbbing clit - and Savannah was coming.

  Torran stifled her tortured cry with his mouth not a moment too late, holding her tightly as she trembled with the force of the pleasure that crashed over her. Savannah had never had an orgasm like this - not even when she touched herself. It left her weak-kneed and breathless, her entire body throbbing in aftershocks.

  Dimly, she realized that someone was knocking incessantly. It took Savannah until Torran lifted his hungry mouth from her kiss swollen lips for h
er to remember that they were currently trapped in the dressing room of a high profile mall, and she was barely dressed.

  Her eyes widened in mortification as she realized what had just happened. Torran was pressed against her and her panties were drenched...And worst of all, she didn’t want to let him go. Her more carnal side would have been quite content to spread her legs for him right there and then.

  “Excuse me, Miss? Sir? There are quite a lot of people out here looking for you.” It was the shop assistant. Apparently, they hadn’t escaped as neatly as they’d hoped.

  Savannah quickly shoved at Torran’s chest - making a small sound of frustration when he merely gazed down at her hotly, obviously pissed that they’d been interrupted. With those blue eyes of his boring into her like that, Savannah only squirmed in discomfort. “Torran we have to get out of here.”

  “Or we could stay here.” He murmured against her ear. “And I could taste more of those moans of yours.”

  Her face flaming, Savannah ducked out from under his arm, quickly stripping out of the dress she’d been in. She shuddered to think what she might have done to it, and tried to ignore Torran’s hungry eyes on her as she scrabbled back into her own clothes. When she turned to the mirror to try and make herself presentable, she was shocked to see how...alive she looked. Her cheeks were red and healthy, her eyes all but gleamed in satisfaction, and it was quite obvious that Torran had been kissing her quite flagrantly. Nonetheless, she shoved her hair into a low bun, straightened her clothes and then glared at the man beside her. Torran looked far too pleased with himself when they were going to have a hell of a time explaining themselves. “You,” she demanded, “Don’t say a word. Let me do the talking.”

  “Of course.” She would have hated that smirk of his if it wasn’t so goddamned sexy.

  It was one of the worst afternoons of Savannah’s life. Of course, the moment they came out of the dressing room, reporters were buzzing to know what was going on between them. She couldn’t count how many times she fed them the excuse that they were just looking for a dress for her to wear - and it was obvious that they weren’t buying it. If she were a reporter, she wouldn’t buy it either. They looked like they’d been doing the dirty in the dressing room and, sure enough, that was the headline next day.

  Maloney’s Latest Conquest: His Young and Talented New Publicist

  Maloney Tastes New Fame: Literally and Figuratively

  Though she was mortified when she got to her office the next morning, Savannah didn’t know what embarrassment was until Carthright called her into his office.

  He dropped the paper onto his desk and its headline glared at her, making her swallow thickly. “If I recall, Jones, I gave you Maloney to make him famous, not to get in his pants.” She swore the man looked almost smug. He had only given her this assignment because he wanted her to fail, and the fact that she’d been doing decently had to be killing him.

  Savannah took a deep breath, doing her best to keep her composure. “I am not intimate with Mr. Maloney, sir.”

  Carthright’s massive moustache twitched in indignation. “You might as well be, according to half of the newspapers in the city. You might have screwed him before you got every eye in the Northeast on him.”

  “I didn’t sleep with him!” Savannah rose from her own seat, incensed that he was trying to belittle her. “We were trying to get away from the reporters.”

  “Well, you did a fine job.” Her boss returned snarkily before his mouth turned up in a scathing smile. “Still, I suppose controversial press is better than none at all. Just make sure it stays centered on him, Jones. Not the time to use to spotlight to further your own name.”

  She hated him.

  It took everything Savannah had not to shove the newspaper he’d shoved at her down his throat. She seethed all the way back to her desk and crumpled the empty paper cup that had held her coffee into a wet mass the moment she sank down in her chair.

  “You Ok, Sav?”

  Bristling, the young woman whirled to see Theo gazing at her with no small amount of empathy. She forced herself to calm down, taking several deep breaths. “I’m fine, but I’d be better if Carthright took a long vacation.”

  “Wouldn’t we all.” Her coworker answered with a wry smile. “Don’t let him get to you. You’re doing well, no matter what he says.”

  “I just have to worry about half the city thinking I’m sleeping my way to the top.” Running a hand through her mussed curls, Savannah groaned. “I’m doing great.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Savannah. Maloney’s fight’s in a week, right? No one will remember this after he wins. There’ll be so much buzz, no one will be able to think about anything else. Good for you and him, right?”

  Theo’s encouraging smile helped to cool her blood somewhat. He had a point. Torran’s match to defend his title was practically upon them, and that should be more than enough to get her face out of the papers. She preferred anonymity to the alternative, and quite frankly, she was surprised her father hadn’t called her to demand an explanation.

  If he did, Savannah had no idea what she would tell him. She wasn’t sleeping with Torran, but she had let the man fondle her in a public dressing room. She all but babysat him, let him buy her an expensive dress, and daydreamed about him when she should be planning her next success.

  How the hell was she supposed to help it when he looked...well, when he looked like Torran fucking Maloney?

  She spent the rest of the day going through a number of photos a magazine had sent her. She was supposed to sift through them and pick the final proofs to go with his interview, but Savannah merely caught herself staring at them hungrily. Torran was only wearing a pair of minute boxing shorts, and they’d wet him down so it looked like his magnificent body was drenched in sweat. He was eying the camera in much the same way he looked at her in the dressing room.

  After he made her come.

  In the end, she left the decision about the photos to the magazine editor and finished up some paperwork before leaving the office at five o’clock on the dot. She was supposed to meet Torran for dinner later to go over the speech for the Charity Luncheon, but Savannah hadn’t written it yet.

  She spent the previous night tossing and turning, remembering how Torran’s hot, ravenous mouth had felt on her breasts. Wanting him in bed with her to finish the job.

  God, why had she ever let him touch her? She was such an idiot, thinking she was immune to his charms simply because he wasn’t her type. Torran was the type of man that had no problem making himself your type, as he’d very clearly proved in the Burberry dressing room.

  Somehow, she was going to have to get him to give her some space. Savannah needed time to figure out how the hell she was going to make it clear to him that nothing else could go on between them. If it did, they would put both of their careers at risk.

  No matter how amazingly, criminally good it felt.

  **

  Torran was of the opinion that accounting paperwork was the most boring thing on the entire planet. Even when Warrick had been alive to tell him that he had a brilliant mind for it, his mentor had a hard time getting him to concentrate on anything for more than an hour at a time. As the accountant in the seat before him watched him go over the numbers, Torran let his mind drift.

  And it wasn’t long before it settled on the subject of his greatest consternation.

  That morning, Savannah had cancelled the third meeting they were supposed to have that week in favor of discussing matters over the phone. She claimed she was busy setting up post-fight appearances for him, but he knew the real reason she didn’t come to his office: she didn’t want to face him. Didn’t want him to remember the way her face looked as she strained against his body and came so hard she shook.

  But Torran would be damned if he forgot.

  Unlike the kiss, she wouldn’t even let him broach the subject. Perhaps if she had, he’d be able to tell her that he had the dress they had broken in in a Prada bag
in the back of one of the cabinets in his office.

  Torran didn’t think he’d ever encountered a woman as complicated as Savannah Jones. She was obviously hell bent on being independent despite what anyone else thought of her. She worked hard, and she refused to let anything, even a foul-mouthed, bad-tempered client, get in her way.

  But there was very obviously something that Savannah wasn’t so good at dealing with, and that was a man’s advances. He wondered when she’d last had a boyfriend, if ever. She seemed the type to be so absorbed in her career that perhaps she didn’t date; but, after the way she’d reacted to his touch in the dressing room, Torran doubted very seriously that she was a virgin.

  Which made him seethe at the thought of the men who had touched her before him.

  He realized, of course, that he was being as unreasonable as fuck. He’d only known the woman a month, and the first time he’d seen her, he knew she was going to be trouble. She was too stubborn to back down, even when the odds were against her.