The Great Scot (12 page)

Which served to widen his smile further. “You have refreshing candor, and a smart mouth. You don't seem to care overly much what I think.”

She tipped her head back slightly, to look fully into his eyes. “And that's attractive to you? Hard to believe I'm still single with those lovely attributes.”

He rubbed his thumbs along the corners of her mouth, making her shiver at the feeling of his work-roughened fingers on her skin. “Hard.” Then he slipped his arms around her waist and brought her fully up against him. “Aye, 'tis that.”

She barely had time to register the stunning truth, shocked silent by the rigid proof pressing against her midsection. Then he claimed her mouth with his own and any hope of rational thought fled completely.

The hot thrill of being sheltered against the hard length of his body, feeling his hands on her, his mouth on her, swamped her senses. His kiss was insistent and compellingly seductive. Forceful and inviting. An intoxicating combination she had no hope of resisting. Not that she made any real effort.

Where had this come from?

He slid his hands up her back, into her hair, then tipped her head further back, so he could slant his mouth more fully across hers, take the kiss even deeper. She clutched at his shirt as he slowly seduced her lips apart, then took his sweet time seducing the rest of her mouth. She shifted more tightly against him, as he slid his tongue along hers.

Her hands were caught between them, fisted in his shirt, curled against his chest. Just as she thought maybe she should become a more involved participant in her own seduction, and began sliding her hands up to his shoulders, he was ending the kiss, lifting his head. Quite breathless, she was struck uncharacteristically speechless and, for that moment anyway, could do little more than stare up into his face. Oh, the way he was looking at her. She had to fight like hell to keep her knees from giving away completely. Just once, she wanted to stay balanced around him.

“I've taken advantage,” he said, his voice even sexier all rough and raspy like that.

She noted he hadn't offered an apology. Good. “I'm a big lass.” Her voice wasn't much more than a croak. She tried to tell herself it was a very alluring croak. “I could have stopped you if I had wanted to.”

That light was still there in his eyes. “What a curious pair we are,” he said, smoothing his thumbs across her cheek bones.

She'd never get enough of his touch. It was like he'd found her ON switch, and wouldn't take his finger off it. She should step back, gather herself, realign her thoughts. Instead, she said, “Are we?” The question just slipped out. “A pair I mean.”

She sighed as he pressed his thumb against her lower lip. Who knew he was such a sensualist? She could get very used to his constant need to touch, stroke, soothe. The needier the better.

“I've no idea what we are,” he said. “All I know is that you're no closer to leaving my arms now than a moment ago.”

“Is that why you kissed me? To prove a point about attraction?”

His smile was so natural and easy, she couldn't imagine how he'd kept it hidden away so long. “Shh. We're looking at fantasy date locations. Go with it.”

She stiffened slightly. So this
was
all some kind of sport? A tweak at what he thought was her silly television show? “So you're just selling your location then?” She scrambled hard to keep up, to not let him know how deeply he'd affected her with that kiss. Hell, even before the kiss. She tried for an admonishing, teasing smile. She'd traveled the world, she could be cosmopolitan about this. “I have to tell you, a gravel lot, no matter how remote and pristine the surrounding forest, is still just a gravel lot.”

She couldn't tell if he'd bought her attempt at casual insouciance or not. True, she hadn't made any concerted effort to step away from him. But there was that very real proof that the sparks hadn't been totally one-sided. Of course, that didn't always mean anything with men.

“We're not there yet,” he told her, not moving either.

“So why—”

“I got sidetracked.”

“Proving a point.”

“No.” He urged her face closer to his again. “Satisfying curiosity. Something you've been doing all day. Fair is fair, after all.”

“Dylan—”

His pupils swallowed up the gray of his eyes at the sound of his name on her lips. Did she really affect him like that? It made her feel powerful and utterly female, or want to, anyway, and he did a lot to make her think she might be, but she was afraid that the instant she gave in to it, the joke would be on her.

Then he tugged her closer and there was that spark, that sizzle. That rock-hard body. “I still have a few questions,” he said, his lips brushing hers.

She dug her fingers into his chest, clutching at his shirt once more, wishing like hell she could clutch at her own self control as easily. “Such as?”

He dipped his head and nipped at her chin, making her breath hitch. “Such as, will she kiss me back this time?” Then he took her mouth again, kissing, nibbling, teasing, entering…and left it up to her to satisfy his curiosity. And maybe satisfy her own.

S
he tasted sweet, like cinnamon and honey. Her lips were so soft, her mouth so inviting. She'd badgered and queried, been honest to a fault, and caring beyond necessity. And he had no business playing with her like this. This hadn't been his intention at all when he'd climbed into the car. How exactly she'd so completely seduced him, he still didn't fully understand.

But whatever slender thread of hope he had of reclaiming his wits, was instantly and quite thoroughly dashed when he heard her make that little grunt of unmistakable need as she nipped at his bottom lip. She urged him closer, then went searching for his tongue with her own. His reaction was swift, urgent, almost primal. He wove his fingers into her hair and shifted her mouth beneath his, so he could take over the kiss, take her.

But she wasn't having any of it. She shifted her mouth to his chin, and murmured, “You said it was my turn.”

He grinned against her cheek. He should have known that, even where she was most vulnerable, she'd still be direct about what she wanted. “I said I wanted to know if you'd kiss me back.” He teased her earlobe with his teeth, then pressed a hot kiss to the tender spot just below it, making her gasp, and his body twitch. Hard. “You did. After that, all bets were off.”

“Hmm,” was all she said, then bit his chin.

Not hard, but hard enough to make the fit of his jeans tight to the point of serious discomfort. His heart was pounding and every inch of his body was poised and ready. He felt such an intense rush of excitement, of anticipation, like he hadn't felt in…in forever. He should slow down, he knew that, but it felt so damn good. Almost too bloody damn good.

And she wasn't even his type.

Yet he was utterly fascinated. He'd never met anyone like her. She'd been a lovely source of amusement, what with her brash manner and take-no-prisoners conduct, but nothing more. Determined, aye, and smart, but so sublimely unaware of her own appeal, he'd never thought himself truly at risk. Yet, here he was, with a hunger so voracious even he was startled at the power of it.

He'd do well to remember she was also the source of most of his frustration. She'd taken over his entire home, for god's sake, and all but booted him out of it in the doing. Glenshire should be his only concern at the moment, not this overwhelming need he had to know what she tasted like…everywhere.

Then she was sliding her hands up the nape of his neck, burying her fingers in his hair, raking her nails along his scalp as she urged him closer still. He was helpless against those throaty whimpers of need, so he opened for her adventurous little tongue, let her tease her way inside his mouth, reveling in the way she tipped his mouth to fit hers, for her own enjoyment and pleasure. Och, but she went after what she wanted and that more than anything sealed his fate.

Then she was sliding her tongue along his, almost sinuously, almost—almost—in a way that spoke of more experience than he'd have attributed to her. It both aroused and disconcerted him. Why should he care what her past experiences were? Maribel hadn't been a virgin when she'd first come to his bed, and neither had he.

He'd spent the night in more than one bed after Maribel's death. Whether it was to numb the pain, punish himself for not being a better husband, punish Maribel for abandoning him, forcing him to rethink his life, his future, his…everything, he hadn't known, or much cared at the time. All he'd known was that he'd crawled out of their beds feeling more hollow than when he'd crawled in. And when he'd finally taken his leave of the city, he'd left that pattern of behavior behind as well.

But he didn't feel numb. And he didn't feel hollow. In fact, he couldn't remember feeling more alive, so fully sensate, in a very, very long time.

He claimed Erin's teasing tongue, no longer willing to let her dictate the course, but unwilling to let her withdraw, either. He dueled with her, pulled her up against him so her feet left the ground, allowing him to press himself fully between her thighs, letting her know in no uncertain terms the full extent of what was happening here. Her grunts became moans, her fingers fisted more tightly in his hair. His own groan of need became a growl, as he cupped her buttocks and urged her to wrap her legs around his hips.

She broke their kiss first, but only so she could avail herself of the access to the tender side of his jaw, which she nibbled and nipped her way along quite expertly as he began to feverishly look about for a solid surface to pin her against. Those little whimpering growls were driving him mad. And standing entwined in a parking lot, no matter how tightly she'd wrapped those gloriously strong legs of hers around his waist, was simply not satisfying his hunger.

And then the roaring noise of his own heartbeat was superseded by a louder, more incessant thunder.
Bloody hell yes, that was it!
The tranquil little spot, the wide flat rock, positioned just across the glistening pool, opposite the roaring waterfall he'd brought her here to see, would be the perfect spot to finally feel the full, soft length of her wrap itself around the full, achingly hard length of him.

“Hold on,” he instructed her, hitching her hips up higher, swearing under his breath when she rubbed intimately against him.

She murmured something against his throat, but was too busy tracing her tongue along the side of his neck, and nipping his ear lobe, to do more than tighten her ankles around his back as urged. Dear lord she was going to kill him before he could get them down the path. And that was assuming he could walk.

It was amazing, the sort of supernatural powers a man could attain when he hungered for something deeply enough. And oh, he hungered.

He staggered across the small lot, and found more by feel than by sight, the well-worn path that led down to the base of the falls. There was a narrower, ascending trail that snaked off to the right, into the rocks, following the stream upward into the mountains, eventually leading to the head of the falls and a stunning view. He'd had that trail in mind when he'd headed this way.

At the moment, however, he had only one view in mind. Erin. Naked. Splayed on that rock.

“Where are we—?”

“Shh,” he murmured, dipping his head to take her mouth again, stumbling half blindly down the path.

She kissed him back, giving all of herself in it, which moved him as much as it aroused him. It made no sense, this gentle affection that kept rearing its nonsensical head within him. Not that he wasn't a gentle man, or couldn't be, but…he didn't know her well enough to stir up those sorts of feelings. This was about pure animal attraction, nothing more.

But she was already sliding her mouth from his, her eyes blinking open, then squinting against the shafts of sunlight that lasered through the tree limbs overhead. “What is that sound?”

“You'll see.”

It was as if opening her eyes and speaking had broken some sort of spell. She squirmed lightly against his hold. “You can put me down. I can walk.” He thought he heard her add “I think” under her breath, but her squirming was putting his already sorely strained control to the test. And, dammit, he didn't want reality to quite intrude just yet.

Reality. Fantasy.

He was rather wishing they'd never engaged in debating that particular topic.

“Erin—”

“I need—”

They both spoke at the same time, both broke off. Dylan paused on the path, not halfway there yet. Their gazes caught and held for what felt like an interminable moment. Her eyes were a bit unfocused, her lips a little puffy, her cheeks flushed, and her hair, well, was even messier than normal. She looked like a woman who'd been quite enjoying a man's attentions. His. The mere thought of which kept him right on edge. Such an oddly possessive feeling.

And then her lips twitched, before she gave in to a smile that set those heavy-lidded eyes to sparkling once again. He wasn't certain which part of her entranced him more.

“You know this is crazy. What do we think we're doing?” She pushed gently at his shoulders until he very reluctantly let her go, steadying her as she let her feet drop to the ground, before moving just far enough away that they no longer shared any contact.

As disappointed as he was with this sudden turn-about, he found himself smiling in return. “Testing out the fantasy date site, of course. You do seem the sort who likes to be thorough with her work.”

She laughed. “Uh, not typically that thorough.”

“I wasn't implying that you—”

“No, no, I know that. I—” She broke off, made a short sound of disbelief, then shook her head. “I, uh, will admit I don't normally just throw myself at someone, however.”

“I didn't feel jumped,” he said. “In fact, if anyone did the throwing, it was me.” He heard the disbelief in his own voice, which she clearly picked up on, if her bemused expression was any indication.

“So…why did you?”

He tilted his head. “Why did you let me?”

“No fair, I asked first.”

“If I knew the answer, I'd tell you.”

“That hard to comprehend is it?” She said it with easy self-deprecating humor, but he didn't miss the momentary flicker of vulnerability in her eyes.

He didn't dare allow himself to ponder that rarely seen side of her or why it affected him so. His body was taking its sweet time calming down, and, as it appeared their momentary lapse of judgment was going to be just that, he thought it was probably best to let things…subside. Still, he gave her as honest an answer as he could. She'd been nothing less with him. “I could give you a list, but it's still sorting itself out and I've no desire at the moment to poke and prod at it.” He held out his hand. “Come on, let me at least show you the site.”

Initiating contact with her of any kind at the moment was putting his barely restored control at grave risk, but he tempted fate all the same. He might not fully understand his response to Erin MacGregor, but he wasn't willing to dismiss it entirely out of hand either.

She looked from his extended hand, to his face, then back to his hand.

“It'll suit your needs, promise.”

She looked as if she was going to say something, then stopped herself. He hadn't missed the wee bit of sparkle in her eyes.

He wagged a finger. “Uh-uh. None of that. We decided no censoring.”

“Yes, but when we made that decision, there wasn't so much at stake.”

He raised a brow. “Such as?”

She rolled her eyes. “Please. Don't play coy with me now.” She skirted past him and took a few steps farther down the path. She grinned at him over her shoulder. “I was about to say, what makes you so sure you know what my needs are? But I didn't stop myself because of censoring.”

He followed her. “So why did you stop then?”

“Because, I'm pretty sure you do.”

His body leapt in response, even as he laughed at her easy confession. “Are we talking about the fantasy date for the show?”

A wiggle of her eyebrows was her only response, then she turned around and continued striding down the path.

The roar of the falls grew louder with every step they took. And didn't come close to competing with the roaring sound inside his head as he watched every bounce and roll of her hips. He also made no attempt to catch up. He needed a few moments to process, at least a little bit, what was going on here. And what he wanted to go on next. It was one thing to go with the heat of the moment, then later he could say he'd merely been caught up. Now that he was being given time to think, that excuse would no longer hold up.

Anything he might do now would be deliberate and with intent. So…what was his intention where Erin was concerned? She was only here temporarily, so, realistically, it didn't much matter what he might want. Or not want. Any man in his right mind would simply enjoy the moment, take what came his way, and be thankful for it.

He'd never been accused of spending much time in his right mind.

The truth of the matter was, his attentions were engaged. And he was no longer the kind of man who could be cavalier about such things. It had been too long. He'd been through too much. From the outside looking in, this might appear to be the perfect setup for him. A way to get a read on how whole and healthy he truly was these days where matters of the body were concerned. Unfortunately, he couldn't focus on the body without the soul coming along for the ride.

He watched her saunter down the path. Saunter. That was Erin's style. Self-assured, without being cocky. She was no femme fatale in the traditional bombshell sense. She didn't exude sexuality. But she had an innate confidence about her, a true measure of self, a determined sense of purpose, that all combined to overrule her less-than-overt femininity and command attention anyway. So different from the cool, sophisticated, aloof woman who was quite aware of her sexual allure and understood it for the asset it was, whether the arena was professional or personal, and wouldn't dream of leaving such a vital resource untapped.

He understood that woman, knew how to play in her world, knew what the rules of engagement were, regardless of whether the field of play was a boardroom table, or a down-filled bed.