Murder Takes the High Road(43)

John chuckled, a naughty, sexy sound. “Oh yeah? That sounds promising.”

I ducked my head, kissed him, tasting my way down his jaw, Adam’s apple, collarbone...licking the salty point of each nipple. John shivered. Soft brown hair dusted his pecs and elegantly scrolled its way to his groin.

He sighed pleasurably, feeling for and pulling the coverlet over us. The room felt as cold as an icebox, but the bed was warm and smelled of sex and naked skin—with maybe a hint of vintage dust. I leaned against him, feeling the muscular resistance of thigh and shoulder, the sudden yield of belly.

He made a soft oof. His cock thrust up like a friendly animal looking for a caress.

“Hold on,” I said, sliding out of bed and sifting through my things for the necessary.

He shivered again as I smoothed the creamy white lube into his hole, trying to make this part an end in itself, a slow, sensual delight. “That’s good,” John whispered. “I like that.”

I liked it too, and I hoped we would do this again so I could have a turn.

John’s thighs spread, creating a welcoming cradle, and he pulled me close. I wriggled and shifted, trying to find the right approach, my cock grazing the entrance to his body. Our cocks fenced in heavy, clumsy strokes—last clash of the claymores—but even that friction felt so good.

He caught my chin, kissing me roughly, wetly as I pierced him. The sweetness of it throbbed through my body. I was filling him, but somehow, I was the one feeling like my heart was crowding my ribcage. Whole. Complete.

John’s eyelashes batted against my face, his breath was warm. He half rolled and I was beneath him, pushed into the lumpy softness of the bed, thrusting up into John. In theory the one in control, in practice also along for the ride.

It was crazy to me that this was John, who I’d known all of two days, and yet I wanted him, wanted this moment so much—it felt like I’d always wanted it. I dug my fingers into his shoulders and came in huge, beautiful straining pulses. John’s eyes shone, holding my own.

The opening of his body closed and eased and clamped tight again. We were sweating and spent as we held each other, panting beneath the dusty coverlet. I kissed the side of his face, but he turned so that our mouths touched one final time.

*

Maybe John rose during the night—I assumed he did—but if so, I slept through his nocturnal wanderings. Slept warmly, deeply, contentedly for the first time in a very long time.





Chapter Fifteen

“Have you seen Sally yet?” I asked Laurel when I sat down across from her in the dining room the next morning.

John had still been sleeping when I’d rolled my luggage onto the landing and headed down to breakfast. The night before had been great, and I had zero regrets, but I did feel sort of...cautious now that we had been there and done that. Sex can take a friendship to the next level. But it can also—even terrific sex—send everything spinning out of control.

I was usually more discreet in my extra-curricular activities. In fact, Trevor and I had gone out several times before we actually slept together. While I was okay with the recent turn of events, I didn’t know John well enough to know how he’d be this morning. I didn’t want sex to mess things up.

For one thing, I was going to be disappointed as hell if things were so messed up we didn’t have sex again.

“No, I haven’t.” Laurel looked at Jim. He shook his head.

“Maybe she already had breakfast and went up to finish packing.”

“True.” I wanted to report my findings—or lack of findings—to Sally, but there was no rush. I ordered my breakfast and sipped my coffee.

There was a lot of coming and going in the dining room, as we were leaving Strathpeffer that morning. The day’s planned itinerary was to drive east by Dingwall toward the northbound A9 and on through the counties of Sutherland and Caithness to the ferry terminal at Gills Bay, where we would catch the afternoon boat to the island of Samhradh Beag.

I was looking forward to the long drive as this was the part of the trip that would take us through Sutherland, the ancestral lands of Clan Matheson.

I lingered over breakfast, keeping an eye out for Sally while I had another cup of coffee and ate my kedgeree. Kedgeree, an Anglo-Indian dish from Victorian times, seemed to consist of salmon mixed with rice, hard-boiled eggs, butter and curry spices. Not your typical American breakfast, but surprisingly tasty. I even had a second helping, but still Sally did not appear.

Trevor and Vance came and went without so much as a glance in my direction. Ben and Yvonne wandered in. Returning Ben’s smile, I felt an unexpected flash of guilt. When he’d asked whether there was something between me and John, I’d been able to answer no honestly. And there wasn’t necessarily anything between me and John now, but I knew that Ben would classify sleeping with John as something between us.

I sure did.

“Where did you disappear to so suddenly last night?” Yvonne asked me. “Afraid of ghosts?” She cackled loudly, the first time I’d heard her laugh.

I said vaguely, “I had a headache. I thought I’d go to bed early.”

Ben looked sympathetic. Yvonne had already lost interest. The Bittywiddys arrived, parking themselves beside the mother and son.

“They’re out of kippers, if you can believe it,” Yvonne informed Daya.

Daya sniffed her disapproval. She had a small, very pointy nose and the permanent bloom of rosacea in her cheeks. Her hair was thin and a gold-red tone. So was Roddy’s, come to think of it, so maybe they shared the same hairdresser. Or bottle.