Tags:
Fiction,
Suspense,
Romance,
Contemporary,
Scotland,
Brothers,
small town,
Scottish,
friends to lovers,
Whidbey Island,
pub,
The McLaughlins
her retreat.
“What kind of fookin’ bastart do you take me for?” he demanded.
She didn’t try to escape his grasp, but now lifted her chin and met his anger head on. “Well you had plans to screw someone else, so maybe you figured you’d pull a Boy Scout move with me and get lucky at the same time.”
“I helped you last night because I’m a nice guy. I can be one, you realize, when I want to be.” He slid his fingers down her arm to join their hands. “And I’m a bit curious at how you’d know all about my so-called plan to get laid last night.”
“Let’s just say a little birdie told me.”
He glanced at the door behind her, and wagered that if he were to open it he’d find his sister sitting at the bar.
“A little birdie named Kenzie, perhaps?”
“Does it matter?”
“Aye, it does.” He pulled her flush against him and this time she did look alarmed. “Because I suspect I don’t need to dress up as a knight in shining armor to get you into bed, Delonna.”
She made a little gasp and her eyes went even wider—if that were possible.
“You cocky mother—”
“Your mouth is really much better suited for kissing than cursing, luv.”
Before she could finish ripping him a new one, he dipped his head and claimed her lips. It wasn’t a need that had begun last night. Not even one from that kiss over the summer. It had been simmering on the back burner from the minute he’d hired her.
When she tried to pull away, he backed her up until she bumped in the closed door. He was completely unwilling to lift his mouth from the softness of hers.
Shite, there was a very good chance he was about to get sued for sexual harassment. Assault. Whatever the hell she wanted to go with if his gamble didn’t pay off and she didn’t start kissing him back soon.
He teased his tongue against the fullness of her compressed lips and her growl of anger morphed slightly into a moan. Just as quickly, she stopped trying to push him away and instead opened her mouth to him.
Her tongue met his halfway, and instinct and need took over. He gathered her tighter into his arms, deepening the kiss and tasting every inch of her mouth that he’d sampled so briefly last summer.
Completely overwhelmed by the taste and feel of her, and needing a whole lot more, he slid his hands down her back. Lower and lower still, until they rested on the soft roundness of her arse.
When he kneaded her flesh through the jeans, she made a low groan and rocked forward against him. His cock grew harder as it came into contact with her belly.
He thrust his fingers into her hair, pulling strands free from the ponytail as he held her head still to commandeer her mouth.
Deeper. Slower. Their tongues explored and tasted. She tasted of the whisky shot he’d given her. Sharp and sweet. And it went beyond the alcohol. It was as if he were getting drunk on the kiss. As if he were taking shot after shot.
She twisted her head to the side, and gasped in a breath.
“Lana,” he whispered.
Not wanting the break from the sweetness of her, he kissed the side of her mouth. Her jawline. And then the pale curve of her neck exposed over the McLaughlin’s Pub V-neck shirt.
She made another low moan and arched into him again. Her head fell back, lifting her full breasts higher and closer to his mouth.
He kissed lower. To the rapidly beating pulse in her neck. Lower still. To the swells of the top of her chest. Her skin was so soft. Addictively sweet like sugar. Christ. He wanted to rip off her top and find out how those gorgeous breasts would feel in his hands. His mouth.
“Customers up front. And my arse isn’t working today.”
Kenzie’s sharp words from the other side of the door were followed by her retreating footsteps.
Son of a bitch . He closed his eyes.
Delonna swore. “Do you think she heard anything?”
“Hmm. Perhaps some heavy breathing. Moans,” he said matter-of-factly, and then winced when she slugged his arm. “But then the
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