The Highland Fling(62)

“You consider that a first kiss?”

“Aye. I do.”

“But it wasn’t a pretty one.”

“Doesn’t need to be.”

“So what does all of this mean? Are you going to kiss me now?” I ask, feeling breathless and excited.

“Nay.” He shakes his head against mine. “I’m going to hold you, though.”

Disappointment falls, and I realize just how much I really wanted him to kiss me—just how much I actually want this man. But cuddling into him, letting him hold me during a thunderstorm, that should be good enough . . . right?

“Come here,” he says, rolling onto his back and pulling me into his embrace. I rest my head against his chest, and his protective arm clamps around me as he kisses the top of my head. “Thank you for tonight,” he says quietly.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I don’t talk about my brother very often, Bonnie. You listened, and that meant something to me.”

“I know you would have done the same for me.” I move my hands slowly across his chest. “Rowan?”

“Hmm?”

“Does this mean . . . we’re starting something?”

“Are you fishing for a date, lass?”

“Wouldn’t hurt you to ask, you know.”

“Okay.”

And I wait . . . and wait . . . and wait.

“Uh, are you going to ask?”

“On my terms, Bonnie. Now just go to sleep.”

“On your terms—what does that even mean?”

“Means I’ll ask when I ask.”

“Well, I can’t wait around forever, you know. I’m fresh meat in a Scottish meat market. I might be asked out tomorrow, and because you never asked me out, I would take that date.”

“Then take it,” he says casually.

I pinch his side, and he barely flinches. “You’re not supposed to say that.”

“I know you wouldn’t take it. You’re too infatuated with me.”

“Oh, now you did it,” I exclaim. “Now I’m going to go ask Leith out just to spite you.”

He chuckles. “Good luck. I heard he likes to lick necks on first dates.”

“Well, then he’s the perfect man for me.”



A burst of light sears through my eyelids as thunder booms outside. I startle awake, my heart rate surging as I try to grasp where I am. The room is swathed in darkness, and the warm body that held me as I fell asleep is nowhere to be found. I sit up in bed and search the room, but I don’t see him anywhere.

Folding down the covers, I slowly get out of bed and make my way through the open bedroom door. I pad into the main living space, where I spot him in the kitchen, wearing just a pair of black boxer briefs. His back is turned to me, and tension rolls through it as he grips the counter in front of him, his head tilted down. Lightning flashes and another boom of thunder rattles the house, but he remains still, unaffected.

Carefully, I walk up behind him and run my hand along his bare back to let him know I’m here. His muscles tense under my touch, but he quickly relaxes beneath my hand.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Nightmare,” he answers honestly. “About Callum.”

“Oh, Rowan, I’m so sorry.” I move under his arm, positioning myself between him and the counter. I lift up his head and catch a glimpse of his distraught eyes as lightning flashes outside. “It’s because you talked about what happened, isn’t it?”

He nods. “Yeah, always happens when I bring him up. Haunts me. I relive it. Every sound, smell, and then . . . silence.” He swallows hard. “I was hoping it wasn’t going to hit me as hard as it usually does, but it felt more intense tonight.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I made you talk about it.”

“You didn’t make me do anything.” He wraps his hands around my waist and carefully lifts me up onto the counter, pressing his body against the cabinets so he’s between my legs. I savor the ease, the intimacy of this moment, as my hands float up to his shoulders.

“Still, I feel awful for bringing it up.” One of my hands climbs up to his jaw, and I stroke his sandpaper scruff. What would this feel like between my legs? Probably amazing. Beard burn is a guilty pleasure of mine.

“Don’t, no need to feel bad, lass,” he says. His hands move over the shirt I borrowed and slowly inch beneath the hemline, where his palms scorch my already-warmed thighs. “Did the thunder wake you?”

I nod as his hands climb higher. “It’s probably the loudest I’ve ever heard,” I say just as another crash sounds. “I can feel it in my bones.”

“I used to love the storms here. Now, well . . . it’s truly the one thing I’d change about Scotland, if I could.”

“Because they remind you of your brother.”

He nods.

“Is that why you stayed in last night? You knew it was going to storm?”

He shakes his head. “No, I stayed in because I knew you were going to find me and finish the conversation from the coffee shop.”

“You did not know that.”

He nods. “Aye, I did, and you proved me right.”

I chuckle. “Am I that transparent?”