“What about Mac?”
“A daughter’s sex life is never her father’s business,” Lucy answered.
We chuckled, and I nodded. “Okay, okay, let’s move on to other things. Like yoga or something. I promise I won’t be distracted anymore.”
The castle was quiet as I made my way upstairs toward Mac’s room. I passed Wakefield at reception but no other guests were around on the stairwell. Figuring they were at lunch, the very thought made me hungry. Eredine had guided us through the toughest yoga session I’d ever experienced, and I was sweaty and in need of fuel.
I thought perhaps Mac might want to go out for lunch. While considering places we might go, I didn’t hear Lachlan until he was hurrying downstairs onto the second-floor landing. My eyes widened as he marched toward me, stern determination on his face. Like a moronic deer in the headlights, I just stood there.
Then my hand was in his, and he hurried me upstairs toward the third floor.
My body throbbed in anticipation.
This was ridiculous!
I didn’t argue or stop him. I just let him lead me by the hand to his room like a goddamn caveman.
Heart pounding, breathing shallow, I allowed him to drag me into his room. He kicked the door shut with his foot and then was on me like a starving man.
I kissed him for a few seconds before I felt his palm on my damp nape. Pushing him back, I panted, “I need to shower. I’m all sweaty.”
Lachlan’s eyes were fixed on my mouth. “You’re about to get sweatier so there’s no point showering just yet.”
My lower belly clenched at the thought.
This was madness. Pure madness.
Any thought of stopping this thing between us went out the window as soon as he touched me.
“Makes sense,” I murmured, reaching for his mouth again.
Lachlan, however, had other ideas. His fingers slipped under my sports bra, and I barely had time to lift my arms above my head before it was gone. Desire hardened his features as he pushed me toward the bed, gaze scorching my skin. I lay back, lifting my hips to help him pull off my yoga pants and underwear.
The pulsing throb between my legs grew insistent as I laid sprawled beneath his hot eyes, watching him undress.
Expression fierce, his voice was hoarse as he admitted, “I’ve been imagining fucking you all weekend. To have you naked, nothing between us.”
I shivered at his intensity and enjoyed the view of his muscled physique as he quickly unzipped his suit pants. His shoulders were wide. I’d known from the way they strained his shirts and jackets that he was built. I also knew from having seen him half-naked in movies. But having all that finely honed gloriousness towering over me was beyond exciting.
And of course, I’d never gotten an eyeful of what was between his legs until now. I’d had him inside me, but I hadn’t seen him because of his kilt.
“Whoa.” I licked my lips, wondering how he’d fit last time.
“It’s been like this since the ceilidh,” he admitted, giving me a roguish grin as he reached for my right leg, lifting my ankle to his lips. “And as much as I want to jump on you like a wild thing, we will be taking our time.”
“But I’m supposed to be meeting Mac.” I sighed, melting into the bed as Lachlan trailed shivery kisses up my calf. I thanked God I’d shaved that morning.
“Mac can wait.”
It took me a minute to gather my thoughts again.
“I’m not sure he—” I cut off my delayed response with a low moan as Lachlan’s mouth reached my inner thigh and his hand caressed my stomach, fingers tantalizingly close to where I wanted them. My breath hitched as he licked the crease of my leg. The bristles of his beard tickled sensitive skin as he scattered kisses over my stomach and down my other thigh.
Deliberately avoiding the spot.
Frustrated, I arched my hips. “Lachlan.”
He lifted his head, eyes full of mischief. “Problem?”
I grunted in irritation. “Stop torturing me.”
“I didn’t realize I was,” the bastard lied, and then pushed my thighs wide, eyes a smoky cerulean with lust as he bowed his head between them. “Is this what you want?”
I nodded, trying to push up into his mouth, but he had my hips pinned.
“Say it.”
I flushed at the demand. None of my sex partners had ever been particularly loquacious in bed. “I want your mouth.”
“Is that it?” His breath whispered over me, increasing my excitement. “No special instructions?”
“I’m pretty sure you know what to do,” I huffed, growing more agitated. My fingers fisted into the bedsheets.
Lachlan laughed, and then I was in heaven.
As he worshipped me, his hands smoothed up my stomach to cup my breasts and squeeze. I was overwhelmed by him, writhing on that bed, lost in nothing but passion. My moans grew to groans and cries, no longer cognizant of anything other than him and the pleasure he wrung from my body.
I came on a loud, hoarse cry of release that echoed around his room as he moved up my body, mapping it with his kisses. Still breathless, blown away by the best orgasm of my life, it took me a minute to realize that Lachlan was paying particular attention to the three scars on the right side of my chest: one near my right collarbone, another close to it just above my breast, and the third lower down just beneath my breast.
But then he was distracted by my nipple, for which I was grateful, and I wrapped my legs around his back to encourage him to come closer. My fingers worked through his thick, silky hair and moved down his back, touching and exploring him as he sucked at my breasts, taking his sweet time until both nipples were swollen and sensitive. I wanted him inside me. I could feel him throbbing against my stomach, and I kept trying to hitch my hips to bring him where he was currently very much required.
Lachlan chuckled at my efforts, his bearded cheeks grazing my breasts as he caressed my hips and ass and continued loving me with his mouth.
His head dipped downward again, and I thought I was going to get a second orgasm via his tongue when his kisses did a U-turn.
Back to my lowest scar.
He kissed it tenderly.
And then lifted his head to study it.
The scars were easy to hide with clothes, but I only hid them because I didn’t want people to ask questions. I wasn’t self-conscious about them, and I didn’t think they were ugly.
While what happened had put me in therapy, it was also one of the things I’d done in my life that I was most proud of. I’d saved my friend’s life, and the scars were my badges of honor.
Still, what did Lachlan think of them? Running my fingers through his hair, I asked him.
“I know what they are,” he said, meeting my gaze. “I’ve seen bullet-wound scars before.”
I nodded, hoping the mood wasn’t about to be spoiled.
His brows puckered. “What happened?”
I shook my head, trying to signal with my body that I just wanted to have sex. When he didn’t catch on, I said, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “At least tell me Mac knows.”
“He does.”
“Then I guess that’s what matters,” he bit out, seeming pissed off before his mouth took mine, his kisses hard, searching and breath stealing.