Under His Kilt (11 page)

“Feels like I haven’t touched you all day,” he murmured before kissing her collarbone. His hair had grown out again, curling around his ears and looking unkempt.

“We haven’t if you discount the morning.” She tried to say it lightly, to continue the act of not caring that this might be the last time he’d touch her like this.

Her throat clogged with all the emotions she’d tried to hide over the last few weeks. The moment his body lay warm and hard beneath hers. Or, maybe the moment her dog plopped on his foot, unabashedly needing to touch him, any part of him. Jocelyn completely understood the need to feel the warmth of his skin.

“Joce,” he whispered but pulled back. “Look at me.”

God, she was going to cry and then that would make it clear her speech had been bullshit from the go. It would prove that those twenty-nine years of being timid and sweetish, his word, and un-adventurous was who she really was. No, she hadn’t calcified to that woman who didn’t take chances—she
was
that woman already. Pretending to be someone different for a month didn’t change who she really was.

She’d only proved without any doubt she was a meat and potatoes kind of woman. Ian would have every right to walk away now instead of in two days and feel like shit for doing it. She’d broken the one rule they really had. Fuck. Her eyes stung, and she tried to blink fast, keeping her face averted from his.

“Look. At. Me. Don’t hide.” His burr deepened. “I know I shouldn’t be here. With you. Like this. So just fucking look at me.”

She did and couldn’t read his expression, but his head was tilted up, meeting her gaze head on. She grasped again for lighthearted. “Now all you need is a kilt.”

He didn’t smile. “Don’t cry over me. I’m not worth it.”

“I’m not. I wasn’t.”

She put her hand over his mouth to make him shut up. His words were absolute drivel. There was much to be said about knowing who you were, what you were capable of, accepting yourself, flaws and all. He couldn’t see that a lesser man, a shit of a man, would have led her on. Made her believe they could have happily ever after when the time became right…and then leave her. He’d told her this is what they would be and nothing more. He’d stated their end date.

Jocelyn had wanted to believe that she’d be a different kind of woman, but she wasn’t. That wasn’t his fault. “No.”

He closed his eyes and rested his head deeper into the pillow. She frowned because he suddenly looked so exhausted.

“I should go,” he murmured.

“But you won’t.”

His lips curved into a smile and he laughed. “But I won’t.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Yes,” he gritted out and opened his eyes.

“You’ve got oil and that means a massage. Maybe we should do that instead of talking.” She shifted, spreading her legs. He was hard as a rock, but he wanted to talk. Stubborn man.

His breath huffed out and his jaw clenched. “Wait.”

She shook her head. “Done talking.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “You drive me nuts.”

She smiled. “Usually because I’m always sitting on them.”

“Joce,” he said again but groaned as she slid up.

“You were saying?”

“We’re not done with this.”

She said, “Yes. We. Are.”

His lids were low, voice raspy and his hands were already working their way up her spine. She teased him some more, using a fake Scottish burr. “Ach. A man’s heart is not in his stomach, Lass.”

He smiled and she ran her fingers over his lips. “What fantasy haven’t we explored yet?” he asked.

Kissing him. A fairly new fantasy, but it ran rampant in her mind. He’d tried twice, but both times she’d dodged his lips. He’d gotten the message and hadn’t tried again. Smart man.

Tonight, kissing him would undo her, so, she nipped at his ear lobe. He held his breath and she pressed closer to feel his heartbeat pound against her breasts. “You.”

His chuckle rumbled low in his chest. “You’ve had me plenty of times.”

“Never fails to get me off.”

He reached for the oil and lathered up his hands behind her back. Ian started at her neck and massaged his way down and up. He kneaded out any tense muscles. The more he touched her, the wetter she became, the heavier her breathing. It was seduction, but she’d long since stopped pointing it out and asking for anything else. If for just a time she could have intimacy with him, she’d revel in every one of them he showed her.

“Sit up,” he said.

When she did, he straightened and placed his back against the headboard. Face to face, he continued to knead her muscles, but now, with her legs spread open by his, he brushed his fingertips over the lips of her pussy from behind.

She buried her face in the crook of his neck and let him tease her. This was his fantasy, just touching her, and it was something he’d done often, but it never felt old. He poured on more oil and it slid down between her butt cheeks. She stilled at the thought and kissed his neck.

He tensed, hands paused. “What?”

“I have a fantasy now.”

“Tell me. In detail.”

She smiled against his neck and had no trouble this time speaking it, “I’m astride you like this. Riding you, slowly, and you’re touching me where no man has ever touched me.”

Ian’s heart jumped into his throat and he cursed, because he knew exactly what she was asking for. “You’ve got to warn me when you ask for things like that. You know I’m fragile. Give me a moment.”

But his hand was already moving down her back, following the line of oil. He heard her sharp intake of breath. She stilled, bracing herself and that wouldn’t do. He grasped her hips and lifted her away from his dick. “Put the condom on.”

Her fingers were hurried and clumsy, but she got the job done. He eased her down onto him, but let her set the pace. It was hard to let her go at it without his help, but she needed to feel in control of this moment more than he needed to control it. But that was something he never really felt with her. He met her strokes with light upward thrusts.

She gripped his shoulders and moaned into his neck. When he felt her tightening around him, he gripped her hips and held her still, not letting her come, suspending her in that heady moment of release. Her breath shuddered out and she trembled. Her nails dug into his skin and he embraced the pain. He welcomed the marks she’d leave behind.

Ian let her go and she rose up and down faster as though he’d change his mind and stop her again. As she did, he slid his finger between her arse cheeks and stopped at her anus. In concentric circles he prepared the tight star, felt her spasm from the orgasm. The tenure of her moans heightened.

“Bear down,” he whispered. “Slowly, so it won’t hurt as much.”

She did and was so tight he barely breached her. Jocelyn’s breath panted out and her fingernails dug deeper. She trembled, but said into his ear, “More.”

He pulled out, catching more oil on the tip of his finger. He slid farther into the tight embrace. Ian had to see her face. With his other hand, he gripped her hair and pulled her back to watch. Her face looked like she was in agony. He started to remove his finger, but stopped at her soft moan.

“No. Feels good.” She stroked down, pushing him deeper. A soft cry spilled out and tangled with a laugh. “Feels pervy.”

“And I know how much you like that.”

She bit her lip and it contained the smile. Her lips looked fuller, plusher. Ian shouldn’t do what he had the mind to do but couldn’t tear his gaze away. Not while her skin was flushed. She shifted, not breaking the gaze either and buried him deeper, moaning softer. He kept watching her mouth as she fucked him, fucked his finger. Watched as she loved it.

When had he gone and lost his head? Did it matter? Since he’d lost control long ago, Ian dipped his head and nipped at her parted bottom lip. She gasped and stilled because he’d crossed the line. This was something she’d never asked for and had made perfectly clear she didn’t want…but she was snug and warm all around him.

Bugger that.

Ian didn’t have an excuse. He wanted to. He needed to know what it felt like to kiss her before they ended. This had always been about her and he’d given everything. He felt raw and exposed for needing to kiss her, for taking her mouth without permission. He couldn’t lift his gaze to meet hers. Not yet.

Her teeth scraped over where he’d bit her. “No,” she said.

“Yes,” he argued.

Jocelyn didn’t turn her head away like she’d done before. She swallowed and sank down and then rose up again. “This.”

“No,” he murmured and stole another bite of her lips.

Harder, slower he sucked on the flesh as he pulled back. She tasted sweet and
right
. She tasted like perfection. Something that just settled between his throat and chest. So he had to take another taste, swirling his tongue into her mouth as she gasped and shuddered. He was buried deep inside her. It wasn’t enough.

“Ask,” she moaned.

His heartbeat thudded in his ears. She understood this was his fantasy. “Can I kiss you?”

She let go of his shoulders and ran her hands through his hair and gripped him hard. “Yes.”

This time with her permission, he kissed her with all that he had. In all the ways he’d imagined. In all the ways that mattered but shouldn’t have. She’d told him he wouldn’t be her bastard. How her words made him ache.

Only a sick fuck would wish that she’d miss him, that she’d feel the loss of him, because in that moment he’d knew he’d miss her, feel the loss of her. It would kill him a little every time she crossed his mind. He couldn’t bear never knowing what her mouth felt like beneath his. To feel her part her lips and give him the taste of one fantasy he didn’t dare speak—her complete supplication, her trust, her heart. Wanting it made him a fool, but he couldn’t not want it.

Ian dipped his tongue in deeper, exploring every inch of her mouth in between sucking her lips as she continued to take him, achingly slow. His finger worked her at the same pace, deeper until there was no more to give, gliding in and out.

She pulled back only to say “more” and kissed him again.

He groaned and slicked two fingers in the crease of her arse and down again into her, tentatively, and she lowered onto him, taking him with only a moan. He kissed her softly, slowly, hard and fast. As many ways he could as she took all of him.

He felt her tremors when she was on the brink of coming. Joce held herself still until the urge passed and then started to build herself back up. He didn’t know how long they went at it just like that. It felt like forever, and if he could have, Ian would have kept right on going. She felt too good. Her moans were almost enough to do him in. And she was tight and wet. Her mouth sweet and hot.

He took her harder, rougher and she egged him between kisses: telling him in graphic detail how it felt to be filled with him, what they could do with the glass dildo next time and how she never wanted him to stop kissing her. It was too much to hold back for either of them, because the moment he groaned deep in his throat, she clenched around him. Her soft cry did him in completely. There was no slamming into her, only his release and hers. She went limp on top of him and for her sake, he fought the sudden exhaustion.

He pulled out of her, but kept her close. She lifted her head, glanced at the clock and then down at him, a wicked smile lighting up her face. “It’s midnight. I think what we just did can be defined as a bang.”

Ian snorted. “Happy thirtieth. To me, I think though. Feels like I just lost some years with that one.” The smile faded, because he could see the quiet anguish grooving the lines around her. “What?” he asked, gut clenching.

“You kissed me.”

He swallowed. “Aye.”

Her gaze fixated on his mouth a moment. He couldn’t read all the emotions flitting across her face. He only knew the one—lust.

“You’re good at it,” she said simply. “Kiss me again?”

Ach and he did, while her mobile rang and Lexxie whined at the door. Nothing else in that moment mattered because she’d asked and as always he answered.

CHAPTER TEN

After ten minutes and the third time her phone rang, dread filled Jocelyn’s stomach. The real world had started to shatter her fantasy even though she’d tried to ignore it. Facing reality would mean ending this moment, ending them and accepting that they were never a
them
.

So, Jocelyn fixated on what she could face. Marcus was calling her. She should have stayed at work and watched him like a hawk. No. She’d tossed all responsibility for a man who was going to leave her. A man who kissed her when she’d made it clear that was the final, absolute line and that one they would not cross. She’d needed it for self-preservation and now she couldn’t stop kissing him. Couldn’t stop wanting him to hear what she couldn’t possibly say.

No. No. Not what to fixate on. Get dressed. Go
.

She pulled away from the embrace, crawled out of the bed, feeling old and creaky, and walked to the dresser. She plucked out the first thing in sight. His sweats. She stuffed them back in and found jeans, one of her shirts and trudged to the closet for tennis shoes.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She didn’t look at him. “Getting dressed. Answering my phone and then heading to the museum because I’m sure that’s Marcus letting me know he’s screwed something up. Then I’ll have to fix it in time for the opening. I’ve got a lot riding on this. Hell, we both do.”

He was silent for a very long time. She knew that silence and knew what he’d say before he opened his mouth. He’d remind her they always had an end date. Her feelings wouldn’t change what they could never be. Once again, her love wasn’t enough. He’d taught her how to shut off emotions so she took his lesson to heart.

“Just don’t.” She finally faced him. “Are you coming with me or staying here?”

There wasn’t a single emotion on his face but his lips were pursed. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say right now?”

No time to shower. She smelled of him, smelled of their sex. Since that very first time they had…
fucked
, Jocelyn had felt he was stripping her down to her barest and most basic of needs. Civilization felt ripped out of her very core. She’d always know the things she’d liked in bed, the things she’d like done to her. Never, ever would she be able to forget how primitive sex could be. How it meant to be laid open and willing to be taken. And that made her feel like an exposed nerve.