The Trouble With Kilts (The MacLarens of Balmorie) (7 page)

"Fix your heater yet?" she asked, looking for a distraction.

Jamie glanced over and gave her a lop-sided smile that nearly sent her over the edge. "Forgot."

She glanced out the window. "Where are we going?"

"Just up to the bothy. I know you want to spend time with Kate and the baby. It's the closest to the lodge."

"What's a bothy?"

"Ours is an old stone cottage. One room. It's open for hikers or anyone to use to rest or take shelter from the elements. They're all over the country. No furniture usually, but always stocked with wood and matches. Supposed to be anyway. Rule is to replace what you use, leave it the way you found it. It's right over the hill."

Not good. So not good. The idea of being in a one room cottage with him, isolated in the hills, sent panic coursing through her system. "Thought we were going for a ride."

"Aye. To the bothy." He slowed the truck to a stop and turned to her. "We need to talk. And I rather do it face to face than driving."

She'd wanted to figure things out with him, to know how he felt. Now that the time was near, she couldn't quite find her courage. "Okay."

Jamie went back to driving and it was just a short distance over the hill to the bothy. The tiny stone building sat just below the crest of the hill with commanding views over the land. It was a pretty spot, especially with the backdrop of the starry sky and the high half moon.

"You coming?"

She hadn't realized he'd turned off the truck and had already opened his door. "Yep."

Riley followed, keeping a safe distance as they entered the building. Jamie went to the fireplace and started a fire. It was a little musty, so she propped the door open using a rock. The fire grew, lighting the room in a soft orange glow. There was a wooden table and two chairs, and a low wooden platform that she guessed was where one would roll out a sleeping bag.

Good thing there wasn't a mattress. Would keep her from wanting to use it. Though she wasn't averse to using the wall, the chair, or hell, being bent over the table—

Her face went hot.

"Doing okay?" Jamie asked, straightening from the fire and taking a seat on the edge of the wooden bed. He parked his elbows on his knees, and gave her such a frank look that Riley was sure he'd just read her wanton thoughts. "I think I can hear your heart racing from here."

Her mouth dropped open then snapped shut. Great. Like she really wanted her reactions known. Riley bit back a retort, trying to keep all her conflicting emotions at bay.

"If it makes you feel any better," he said quietly, "I've had a hard-on since your room."

Yep. There it was. She was on fire. Every part of her just combusted. "What is this?" she asked in a shaky voice. "Shock Riley night or something?"

He stared at her for a solemn moment. "What happened to the woman who sat on my couch and said things more shocking than what I just said, the honest one, the one who didn't pull any punches?"

"That woman was drunk. This one isn't." And this entire thing was not turning out like Riley thought it would. Inside, chaos reigned. She couldn't seem to find stable ground, and it made her nervous and scared. "And I'm honest."

"Then you can't deny there was and is something between us, something way more than just the attraction."

Riley stifled a wince. She'd walked right into that one. "That was one night," she muttered lamely. "You can't make
way more
out of one night."

"Who are you trying to convince, Riley? Because it isn't me. One night was all it took for me. You can make way more out of a second, a minute, a night." His voice dropped. "If you want to."

Her mind clouded, the weight of what he was saying, what he might be saying overwhelmed her. On one hand, her fantasies and hopes these last six months were coming true. It was everything she wanted to hear. And yet the sane part of her, the down to earth, the pull no punches side suddenly wanted to take a step back, to clear her head and regroup. She couldn't think. She was confused and disoriented and panicked. Only Jamie could do that to her. Rattle her like this. Set her on fire one minute and have her running scared the next.

And, boy, she was scared. Terrified.

This wasn't like her. She was the strong one. The fearless leader of the three cousins. The one who
wanted
to know how he felt. And now that she had a good idea, she fell apart.

"Do we need to make love first for you to decide?"

Riley glared at him, the heat returning with force. "Will you stop doing that?!"

A wicked grin played on his lips. "Doing what, turning you on from a distance?"

Oh God. Yeah. That
.

Her eyes narrowed to angry slits. He wanted to play it like that? Fine. She'd show him just how effective her punches were. "Yes. Turning me on, MacLaren. I'm achy all over, my heart is pounding, and I'm already wet."

His jaw went slack and his eyes went wide and slightly unfocused. His nostrils flared. Jeez. Her breath went shallow, too. Okay, well, she'd meant to give as good as she got, but it had the additional effect of making her even more turned on than before. Her pulse pounded between her legs. She hadn't been lying. Her body was responding as though they were in full on foreplay, and they hadn't even touched.

Jamie scrubbed a shaky hand down his face. "Keep talking to me like that, lass," he said in a thick tone, "and I'll embarrass myself."

"Wouldn't want that," she quipped.

"What do you want, Riley? Want my hands on you? Want me to touch you," he flicked a glance at the juncture of her thighs, "there?"

Her heart was going to hammer right out of her chest. All she had to do was cup herself with a little pressure and she'd come. Her mouth had gone dry. She tried to swallow and couldn't.

But she could fix this on her own, end the constant tension.

Her hands were already on the buttons of her shirt, unbuttoning. Jamie's hands gripped either side of the wooden bed where he sat, his knuckles white. Emboldened by the effect she was having on him, Riley found her voice. "I want a lot of things." She pulled her shirt off her shoulders. "I want to be kissed." Her legs were weak as she unbuttoned her jeans. Jamie nearly came off the bed, but he forced himself to stay down, enraptured by her striptease. "I want to touch your bare skin." She bent and pulled one leg off then the other.

His Adam's apple slid up and down. Riley straightened. Down to her bra and underwear, she stepped toward him and stopped at his knee. He opened his legs a little wider, slid his hands up her thighs, and pulled her close. "About time." He kissed her stomach. She gasped at the sensation of warm lips on her skin and his roughened palms on her body. Pleasure shot through her veins, hot and achy.

He continued placing hot little kisses along the top of her panties, his hands coming around and squeezing her ass. As low as the wooden platform was, it put him in the perfect position to kiss her through her underwear. She ached for that, everything in her pounding and pulsing. And when he did, she cried out, grabbing his shoulders, plowing one hand in his hair.

He licked her through the cotton and she saw stars, her muscles clenching as her orgasm built. "God, Jamie, please."

Her nails dug into his shoulders. "Say you missed me," he murmured against her, the vibration of his voice making her crazy.

"I did. I missed you. I'll say it whenever you want. I don't care, just…" His finger slid under the edge of the cotton. She gripped him tighter. He pulled the material aside. And then this hot tongue was licking, circling around her one time, two times, and by the third she exploded suddenly, hard and fast, pleasure surging out and stealing her breath.

He held her tightly until her body went still. But still she wanted more, needed to feel him inside her, needed to put her hands on him.

Compelled by need, Riley took a step back. "Stand up," she said, breathless.

He gazed up at her and her heart tripped over. He stood, snagged a condom from his pocket as she tried to help him with his pants, her hands trembling. Finally they were down, along with his boxer briefs. "Sit down," she told him and as soon as he did, she tore the wrapper, sheathed him with the condom, and then straddled him, sliding herself down until she was fully seated.

A breath of relief went out of her.

Jamie was staring at her, the moment seeming to come to a poignant stillness. He cupped her face, looking deeply into her eyes. He was going to kiss her. Finally. With him inside her, unmoving, and about to kiss for the first time… It was the most overwhelmingly erotic thing Riley had ever experienced. He brushed her lips. "You and me, New York," he whispered against her lips. He angled his head. Their tongues met. He kissed her so sweetly and thoroughly, she nearly died.

She had to move. The temptation was killing her. He felt right, filling her up, making her nuts, making her want to meld into him and never leave. Her fingers threaded through his hair, her nails digging into his scalp. She ground down on him, lost.

Jamie groaned, grabbed her around her rib cage with both hands and thrust up. Riley lost herself, reveling in everything he did, every touch, every kiss, every move, until pleasure built so thick and slow and powerful that she went over the edge once more to the sound of Jamie's, "God, Riley." Right before he went over the edge with her.

Chapter 10

"I don't want to let you out of here," Jamie admitted. They'd dressed and now he was on the wooden bed, his back against the wall with Riley in his lap. His muscles were useless. His pulse had finally calmed down. But his mind was still clouded and dazed. He knew it'd be good, but he never expected to lose himself so completely.

Riley tightened her grip around his neck, her mouth pressed against his skin. Her lips spread into a smile. Then, she leaned away to look at him. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sultry and satisfied, her lips swollen and red. She took his breath away.

He had a fantasy in his head of Riley falling for him, staying in Scotland, and making a life and a home here. He wanted that fiercely and yet a small part of him wondered if he was being unrealistic or seeking something too perfect. But he knew he had to try. "The last six months…" he began. "I've gotten stronger. Physically and mentally. I've bounced back." Her smile ripped at his heart. He hadn't realized how much he wanted her to be proud of him, to approve. Or that it mattered so much. "You took my heart back to New York with you, you know?"

God, this was harder than he expected. Doubts rushed in. What if she said no? What if her feelings weren't as strong as his? What the fuck did he do then? She didn't say anything, but tears swam in her eyes, which wasn't a good sign.

"Riley?"

She shook her head. What the hell did that mean? Was that a no?

She scooted back from him and stood, biting her lip and giving him a panicked look. Shit. He went cold.

"I just need a minute," she turned and hurried out the door.

No fucking way.

Stunned, he sat there for all of five seconds before getting up and going after her. She stood outside, arms hugging herself and staring out over the landscape. "What the hell was that?" he demanded, hurting more than he had in a long, long time. "Screw the gimp and get it out of your system?" As soon as the thoughtless words were out, he regretted them.

As he opened his mouth to immediately apologize, pain shot through his nose, blinding him for a second as he stumbled back in shock.

Riley had hit him, had whirled around and popped him right in the nose with a sharp right-handed jab. "Jesus, Riley," he rasped, grabbing his nose.

"Ow," she said, shaking her hand, completely unconcerned with him.

"Ow?" he asked incredulously. "You punched me in the face." He was completely in shock and couldn't seem to process it. It was so ludicrous he started laughing.

She'd punched him, and he'd deserved it.

Good for her.

Riley gave him a murderous glare and then her resolve thinned and she cracked a smile. "You're an ass, MacLaren."

"Aye," he agreed, dabbing under his nose and then checking his fingertips for blood. "You hit like a girl."

She snorted. "I am a girl."

"I can teach you how to hit harder."

"You sure you want to do that? Kind of putting the nail in your own coffin. Might be a lot of black eyes and bloody noses in your future then."

He was about to respond to that when her words sunk in. Future. She said future. He was either being a hopeless fool, grabbing on to meaningless words, or there was something there. "For the record, I don't usually say shit like that. I'm sorry."

"I don't think you're a gimp."

His chest gave a painful squeeze. He hated that word. Hated to feel weak in any capacity. And he didn't want to be a charity case, or have anyone pity him. Least of all Riley. He'd lashed out at her because deep down he worried that part of her interest in him was out of sympathy.

"That's a horrible word," she continued. "Would prefer you not say it. Ever." She bit on her bottom lip. "What happened in there… Doesn't have anything to do with your injury. I think you're one hell of an amazing man. You're stronger than anyone I know. Yes, I'm sorry you lost your leg, and I'm sorry you had to endure pain and that it changed your life. But never for one second think that's pity. I mean, really. What kind of woman do you think I am anyway?" Her words had become fast and angry. And by the time she was done, her hands were on her hips, and she was back to glaring at him.

He'd been the jerk and there she was trying to make him feel better, albeit in a rather furious way. Which was kind of hot. He shook his head, forcing the direction of his thoughts back to the subject at hand. "Look," he began, shoving a hand through his hair. "What I said, I didn't mean—"

"I know what you meant. You're scared. Just like me. Why do you think I needed to come out here?"