Charming Scottish Bastard

by Melissa Blue

  There. She’d reached relaxed and playful. He wanted to brush his thumb over the smile as though he could feel her emotions through touch.

  “Tasha?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you uncomfortable with me or uncomfortable taking the first step?”

  She turned her face into a pillow then peeked at him, a cringe wrinkling her nose. “I overthink things sometimes. Then everything becomes awkward. So either I do whatever, as soon as it crosses my mind, or…”

  “What are your hard limits?”

  Interest lit in her gaze when she met his eye. “How kinky are you?”

  “Kinky enough to be turned on by your surprise. What do you know about it?”

  “Enough to know my trust issues won’t even let me play.”

  “Trust is key.” He thought about that, considered how hard his cock was just being near her, and came up with a solution. “Do you trust me enough to kiss your fingers, lick them even?”

  She dug her teeth into her bottom lip as though she had to consider even that much trust. “My hand isn’t an erogenous zone. It’s been tried before.”

  “You’ve never let me try.”

  “Why is it when you state a fact, it kind of sounds like a humblebrag?”

  “What gets you off? Let me have at it.”

  As he hoped, she licked her lip and quieted. Finally, she said, “Like there’s a spot right below my ear…”

  “Is there?”

  Instead of answering, she notched her chin up. He wanted to moan or grin or pump his fist, but he leaned forward and placed a kiss right on her pulse. He lingered long enough to know her heart raced. She sighed and arched her head back to give him full access.

  He worked his way to her ear. She shifted just enough for him to hit the exact spot. Grant added suction to his next kiss on her skin. Teeth the next exploration. Both in the next. He might as well have pushed a button that made her curl closer, her legs opening a little wider. An impatient man would have slipped between her legs.

  For Tasha, he would take all the time in the world. The more her taste filled his mouth, the more he needed her to push him onto his back, straddle his lap and fuck him senseless. She seemed to need control to feel safe enough to jump him and he didn’t mind giving it.

  He let his mouth work and eventually she balled her hand in her shirt. He noted that reaction with a low burn in his gut. When she moved her hand to his neck and squeezed, he tried to hold back the urge to die from how good the touch felt. Her moans turned into a frustrated growl. It would have been wrong to smile so he let her push him onto his back.

  Desire weighed her lids. If a look could eat him whole, he’d be a late-night snack. “Tasha?”

  “Don’t say my name like that. I already know what’s coming.”

  “Preferably you.”

  “That. That kind of answer is exactly what I knew you’d say.”

  “What else did you think I’d say?”

  She pressed a palm to his chest, gazed deep into his eyes and said, “’Lass, what’s the harm in some dick?’”

  He rested his hand on hers and tried to keep his expression solemn. “Lass, what is the harm?”

  She fell back onto the bed, too far away from him, and laughed. “I’m still running through all the pros and cons.”

  Testing the waters, he touched the hollow of her throat and ran his finger up to her chin. She quieted, but her breathing deepened. He brushed his forefinger over her lips. She parted her mouth, her tongue just a wet tease for the moment he held his finger there. He let his finger travel down to the valley of her breasts.

  “Tell me a con,” he said.

  “You are too slick.”

  Not the first time he’d been accused of that. Usually by owners of a company having to sell their business for pennies on the dollar.

  “You’re right.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t think you understand I wasn’t giving you a compliment.”

  He leaned in and waited for a reaction. She wet her top lip. He brought his mouth close enough for her to taste him if she just lifted her chin a fraction.

  “What’s a pro?” he whispered.

  “You love your family.”

  He sucked on her bottom lip. Tasha rolled into him, her leg riding up between his. He got distracted by the roughness of her jeans against his legs and the way his blood roared to his cock. Grant took her mouth, harder. She hummed.

  “Con?” he asked, but then he didn’t give her a chance to answer by devouring her mouth again.

  Her hand went to the knot holding up his towel. Take it off. The next moment, her hand moved to rest on his stomach. She kissed too damn good for him to complain.

  Until she broke the kiss.

  “You’re temporary.”

  He frowned at that. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re going back to your life once you make your brother a millionaire.”

  That wasn’t exactly true. He’d help dismantle many companies that cleared a million within their first five years. If—when he left, it would be when he knew his brother would be fine on his own with the startup or Scotland International gave him an ultimatum. Explaining his options and thought process would change the mood.

  Instead, he tugged at the collar of her shirt to expose her cleavage. “We can talk about that, or I can put my mouth somewhere really interesting.”

  “My detailing all your not-so-stellar qualities isn’t a turnoff?”

  “I know who I am. I’m just making sure you do before things go any further.”

  He scraped his nails over the front of her shirt. Her nipples thickened and pressed against the material. He flattened his palm along her stomach, making a path to the button on her jeans. Stopping there, he waited for permission.

  When she didn’t say anything, he held her gaze. “Tasha, do you want this?”

  Her brows flew up. “You ask, instead of assume.”

  It took his lust-drenched brain a moment to catch on—another pro in his favor. “And what’s your answer?”

  She pushed his hand away to unzip her pants. He held his breath, but she didn’t wiggle out of the denim. His mind offered up more than a few solutions to that problem by the time she’d relaxed on her back beside him.

  But first…

  He brought his mouth back to hers. There was nothing wary in the way she slid her tongue across his. Tasha licked into him like she wanted to taste all of him. She tasted of heather and vodka. The heat of her mouth made him want to sink into the rest of her to find the same kind of warmth.

  Her leg moved up, again, but this time he was ready. Grant slid his hands into her pants then palmed her mound. That action froze her as a moan panted out from her lips. He nipped at the tip of her tongue, letting his fingers brush along the cotton material. Her hips followed the motion.

  He licked her bottom lip. “If only your pants were off I could…”

  “You’re so full of shit.”

  He laughed and let her kiss him deeper. Eventually the jeans came off. For that alone she deserved for his finger to slid down to the apex of her thighs. She squirmed, impatient and needy, and so fucking perfect. Grant gripped the crotch of her panties, pulling them to the side. His knuckles were welcomed with warmth, the slickness of her arousal and the barest hint of hair.

  When he palmed her mound again, his middle finger dipped into her slit. Wetter. He pulled back enough to watch her face as he shifted then pressed two fingers into her pussy. Her mouth parted, and instead of clenching, her entrance opened for him. His cock swelled.

  Had she come already he would have curled his fingers to massage her g-spot, but the slight quiver that danced along his fingertips told him soon he’d get that wish.

  “Lemme see,” he murmured before placing a kiss on her chin. “I want to see just how swollen your clit is right now.”

  Her legs fell open wider. He groaned at the sight of hi
s hand thrusting into her. Grant nipped at her jaw, feeling both focused and hazy. He shifted again, wrapping one leg around hers and spread her wider.

  She opened her eyes, her teeth scraping over her bottom lip. “I need to come, Grant.”

  He kissed her because he loved the feel of her mouth against his and to keep her quiet. He was barely holding it together. As though he said the words, Tasha’s hand fell to his knee then rose up his skin. He held his breath until she closed her hand on his cock.

  The curse tumbled from his mouth, his hips straining. She loosened her hold to rub her hand up and down, using his thigh to apply just the right amount of pressure. The position should have been awkward, but it was more than enough as precome seeped from the tip. He was going to come before her, and that would be shameful.

  Though his head pounded from pleasure, he narrowed his focus on her. Only her. He stiffened his fingers, letting his palm slap against her clit. Her strangled moan tingled the hair at his nape.

  The quiver inside her turned into undulating waves, spreading out until her every limb tensed, trembling. Her hand fell away from his dick. She turned her face into the crook of his neck, her breath hot as she panted through the orgasm.

  He wallowed in that suspended moment with her, his gut tight, his teeth clenched, but underneath all that taut anticipation was something he couldn’t name. Couldn’t put a finger on.

  Whatever the emotion was made his head more hazy than focused. Maybe it was just her scent clouding his senses. One of her hands speared through his hair, and that was definitely a reason he couldn’t put thoughts together. Better yet, when she used their tangled legs to pin him to the mattress and peel back the towel.

  I don’t need much.

  “I know,” she answered, and he realized he’d whispered the words.

  Tasha smiled and licked her hand before clasping her fingers around him. Her fingers closed so tight around the head. Enough. More than enough. Precome slicked the way and soon he was jerking into her hand as she gripped him from base to tip.

  Wild and urgent, he covered her hand with his to guide her. Within moments, he had enough mind to clasp her fingers and move them away. He aimed his dick for the unraveled towel. Grant shuddered as each spurt rushed from his balls. She kissed him through it all, long enough his mind cleared, and he caught the musky scent of their sex mingling in the air.

  A growl rumbled in his throat as he put her panties to rights. He damn near bit through his tongue when he dragged a cover between his nakedness and her sex-rumpled form.

  “Sleep,” he murmured to her.

  Neither surprise or frustration twisted her features. “That’s it?” she asked.

  “That’s all you asked for, and barely that.” He paused and poked at how he was feeling. “And…”

  “Grant?” she whispered.

  “I’m starting to enjoy this slow immersion with you. I have until tomorrow night to imagine and plan out every filthy thing we can do.”

  Her head shook before a laugh fell from her mouth. “Sleep.”

  Every inch of him needed more.Still, he bundled her into him, glad for the warmth of her. Eventually, sleep pulled at him but fucking Jesus Mary. Wanting her was going to be the end of him.

  7

  O

  rgasms put a pep in her step, so Tasha practically skipped her way into the Barrel the next afternoon then came to a stop.

  An older man stood behind the bar. His silver hair was neatly slicked back. His white long-sleeved shirt was crisp and rolled up to his elbows, showcasing a man in very good shape. His sharp gaze fell on her. The slow smile lit his blue eyes, and somehow seduced her into returning it.

  He said, his brogue thick, “You either have a key to get in or you’re a burglar—a wee one. Sit for a pint, and tell me your troubles.”

  Tasha couldn’t hold in the laugh. The man lived up to his reputation. “You must be the Baird. I’m Tasha, Mia’s friend.”

  “Aye. You’re the new manager.” He gestured for her to sit at the bar stool.

  She saw no reason to jump right into work, especially when he was doing some of the prep behind the bar. “Do you approve, or is there some hazing you have to do first?”

  “I trust Kincaid.”

  She heard the unspoken part. “But Grant?”

  “He has a good heart.”

  “That’s weaseling your way around.”

  His eyes glinted. “You’re sharp, I see.”

  “And you’re wily.”

  “Grant’s a family man so I know what motivates him. He’s also been there for my nephew.” He leaned on the counter, his eyes intent on her face. “You’re here for Mia, and you’ve only asked me about Grant. Tell me more about that, lassie.”

  Hell. “I’m here for Mia but Grant worries me.”

  “Why would he?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Usually is when you want to rodger someone you think you shouldn’t.”

  She grinned. “You see too much, old man.”

  He pressed his hands to his chest. “Old man? You wound me.”

  “Your ego is likely too big for me to make a dent with anything I’ve said or will ever say.”

  “Then I’m pretty sure we’ll get along.” He rested a towel over his shoulder. “Kincaid and Mia showed you the ropes but let me show you now.” He winked. “I promise it’ll be all the things they missed.”

  His idea of showing her the ropes went well into the night shift. She didn’t mind at all. The Barrel was his sweat, blood and tears. It became a haven after his wife left him and his sons. The revenue from the pub had put his children through college before it went free nationwide. The only reason he’d decided to slow down at all was that his health wasn’t what it should be. His nephew and niece-in-law depended on him more. All things he told her during the tour.

  It was one thing to hear about Kincaid’s hopes and dreams for the pub from Mia and to see that in the works the moment she touched down from America. Another to see decades of hard work come to fruition, all told to her from the person who had manned the pub. When the crowd pressed in that night, she could see Baird’s place as the Barrel for what it was and would be.

  Most of the early hours were spent with Baird at her side. He charmed his patrons, and they were ecstatic to see him after his long time away. No one complained about the wait times.

  An hour before closing, Grant moseyed in. She tried to act like the very air didn’t charge with anticipation. She tried to ignore the way his forearms flexed when he bussed tables. She tried and failed to hold back the memories from the night before.

  But every time he would pass the bar to dump the dishes in the kitchen, her memory would get dragged back to those moments in his room. How he’d made her laugh. How he didn’t pressure her for more but also didn’t let her be a chicken. How absolutely perfect his fingers were sliding in and out of her.

  Getting through the night to closing seemed to take for-fucking-ever. Tasha managed to hold in every bit of tension, the frisson of excitement of being alone with Grant post-closing. When the Baird bade them both a goodnight and went to his flat, it was a miracle her hands didn’t shake when she whipped up two virgin martinis.

  She brought them over to the table Grant had set up his laptop. He took a sip then raised his brows at her. “Should I point out the irony of serving virgin drinks after last night?”

  She refused to reward him with a laugh. “I have a very nosy question.”

  He put down the drink and frowned at his computer screen. “Ask away.”

  “How is it you’re on your laptop every night when you’re not technically the CFO anymore?”

  He snorted, his attention flicking to her for a moment before typing out a very long message. Eventually he closed the laptop then said, “I’m on leave. I’m still asked for help.”

  Tasha tried to parse through that and couldn’t. “So you’re working two very dema
nding jobs?”

  “I’m on leave.”

  She squinted, sure he was putting her on, but Grant believed he was taking a break, of sorts. “Don’t you think you’re being stretched a bit thin?”

  “I know I am, but what’s the alternative?”

  “Tell your job on leave means actually being on leave then get a few more hours of sleep before you keel over from sleep deprivation?”

  “I will have a break when Kincaid’s settled and I go back to being a CFO.”

  Tasha thought about the man she’d gotten to know and bit her lip to keep in the obvious—Grant would choose Kincaid and the brewery over his old job. If he didn’t know that or suspect the inevitable, it wasn’t her place to point the truth out to him.

  Grant chuckled. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

  “I’m thinking about how I finally booked my own place to stay.”

  His lids lowered as lust deepened in his eyes. “How far from here?”

  “Closer than yours.”

  Grant crossed his arms, settling deeper into his chair then sighed. “Before we go, I want you to be sure you want to fuck me.”

  Her breath caught at his frank words. “I know I chickened out yesterday, but you had this look that made me unsure.”

  He bit his lower lip, his gaze intensifying. “What look?”

  She pointed to his face. “That one.”

  “And what is it about this expression that scares you?”

  That was complicated. She was wet first and foremost whenever he leveled her with that stare. It was… “Your guard is completely down when you look at me. I can feel how much you want me in my hair follicles.”

  And even though she knew intimately what his mouth felt like on her mouth or her breasts or how his fingers made her pussy sing, penis-meet-vagina sex was something they couldn’t take back. Sex would only dump fire on the attraction, making them reckless about each other.

  He tilted his head. “That’s not all of it, though.” His expression turned pensive. “How about we go out.”