"Yes, and I loved every second of it."
Something like a growl rumbles in his throat, resonating through his chest, while he sets down his fork and turns his face to me. "Careful, Catriona. I might take that as an invitation to seduce you."
Every time he says my full name, Catriona, it sends a wicked little thrill through me. The husky tone of his voice. The way he seems to relish speaking my name. The way his lips move when he does say it.
Yes, I still want him. Lust for him. Hunger for his body.
He finishes off his omelet and gets up to clear the dishes.
I should help, but I can't stop staring at him, can't move, paralyzed by the thought that keeps surfacing in my mind over and over.
Maybe I should let him seduce me.
After he places everything in the dishwasher, he faces me again. Leaning back against the sink, he dries his hands with a dish cloth. "So, what's on your agenda today?"
Are we really going to have a normal conversation? It feels odd, but somehow pleasant too.
"I don't officially start work until next Monday," I say, "so I've decided to sit in on some of the classes taught by my new coworkers. The other faculty in the humanities department. I haven't taught adults since I was a graduate teaching assistant. It'll do me good to see how the professionals do it."
And it doesn't help my nerves to know I got this job only because Alex convinced the dean to hire me.
"You'll do fine," Alex says. "Better than fine. You are a bright, capable woman who manages to keep her enormous, testy brothers in line. You can handle college students."
I gawp at him, stunned by his compliment. It sounds like the most honest thing he's said to me since our hostile reunion at Dùndubhan.
Either that or he lies better than anyone in the universe.
"We'd better go," he announces. "Or I'll be late for my first class."
One minute, he's annoying me. The next, he pays me a wonderful compliment. Unraveling the mystery of Alex might take longer than I thought. But I'm in it for the duration. However long it takes, I will ferret out the truth about Alex Thorne.
Chapter Seven
Alex
Catriona and I part ways in the parking lot at Thensmore, where she heads to the administration building to fill out more paperwork and I veer toward the humanities building. After my first class of the day, I sequester myself in my office to grade papers, work on an article for a journal, and fantasize about Cat.
All right, maybe I spend most of the morning doing the latter.
How am I meant to react to having her in my home? Yes, I arranged it that way. I've gone to a bloody lot of trouble to get her in Moirai House, but now I don't know what to do with her. Shag her, of course. What else? What did I hope to gain with my scheming?
Cat asked me that very question on the day she arrived in Montana.
And I still have no answer for it.
What does it matter why? I've done it, she's here, and I plan to take full advantage of that fact. In what way, I've asked myself a thousand times this morning. Take full advantage of her body, naturally. But there might be something else, a secret even I can't unlock.
Or maybe I'm afraid of what the answer might be.
No, that's not it. Afraid? Me? Never. As I told Serena and Logan nine months ago, nothing frightens me.
Certainly not Catriona MacTaggart.
Ten minutes before noon, I'm relaxing in my chair, the one I bought and hauled into my office on campus so I could have an actually comfortable piece of furniture on which to rest my arse. It's leather, of course. The butter-soft sort. Expensive, ostentatious, and unnecessary too. Which explains why I had to have it.
I lean my head back and close my eyes, intending to ponder my lecture for this afternoon. I've prepared one about ancient Greek weapons. How bloody boring. Though I considered lecturing on sex in the ancient world, I discarded the idea. The last time I'd done that, four of my fellow faculty members filed complaints about the "noise" and "vulgarity" emanating from my lecture hall.
The lot of them are prudes. Irritating, mentally stunted prudes.
Naturally, thinking about a naughty lecture makes me think of Cat. Her voluptuous body. Those lips I tasted again for the first time in twelve years. How hard I came in the shower while picturing her naked, imagining the sounds she'll make when I finally have her under me. Or over me. Or in any position I can convince her to try, as long as she's naked.
My cock loves the idea. It's grown so hard that it aches from a need I can't satisfy. Not quite yet, at least. I reach down to grasp the button on my trousers, about to unhook it and slide my hand in there to relieve the pressure.
And of course, since the Fates despise me, Cat walks into my office right then.
Yes, I'm the sort of bloke who has a wank in his office with the door wide open.
Maybe I would've closed it before I really got going. Maybe.
Catriona flumps onto the chair across the desk from me. A mischievous little smile tugs at her lips, and her breathtaking blue eyes glint in the sunshine pouring in through the window. The light seems to gild her skin and her hair, transforming her into a golden apparition of Aphrodite.
Oh bloody hell. What, have I turned into a lovestruck idiot? Comparing Catriona to an apparition of the Greek love goddess. For pity's sake, man, get a grip.
"It's lovely to see you," I say, maintaining my calm demeanor in spite of my idiotic thoughts. "But why are you here?"
"To see you."
My pulse speeds up.
No, it does not. That thumping in my ears must be air pressure.
"How sweet, Catnip," I say, smiling. "You missed me."
"Catnip?" She wrinkles her nose. "Please donnae ever call me that again."
"Why not? It's a perfect nickname."
She tilts her head to the side, studying me with those luminous eyes. "Why do you keep trying to annoy me?"
"What?"
"Don't pretend you're an eejit. That's how I know when you're lying."
"Maybe I had no intention of annoying you. And in case you're wondering, I'm not irritated in the least that you implied I'm an idiot, in your charming Scots way."
Her gaze sharpens on me, like a well-honed knife driven straight into my forehead and deep into my brain. "Stop doing that."
"What?"
"You're being evasive again."
"Am I?" I rock my chair, hands linked over my lap to hide my erection. "What if I'm unaware of what I'm doing?"
"Bollocks. You always know exactly what you're doing." She rises and approaches my desk, leaning over it, her hands flat on the desktop. "Why do you always couch your responses in 'maybe' and 'what if'? Why cannae ye ever tell the truth?"
"It's never that simple." I sit forward, my face inches away from hers. "Why don't you scurry home to bonnie Scotland? If I'm such an irritating, untruthful bastard, why haven't you left yet?"