Echoes of Scotland Street

I kept glancing out of the corner of my eye, my gaze roaming his tattooed forearm, before fixating on the chunky Indian silver ring on his big hand.

Not only was I hyperaware of Cole’s body; I was painfully aware of my own. My lips, my tongue, my br**sts, the insistent throb between my legs . . .

It was ridiculous. And it had never happened to me before, so I didn’t know how to deal with it. Finally I got an excuse to move away from Cole when it was my turn to buy a round of drinks. Walking over to the bar, I took a deep breath and attempted to mentally coax myself out of the desirous stupor I was in.

I’d only been standing at the bar a few seconds when a bartender freed up and took my drinks order. I was in the middle of trying to think of ways to resist the attraction to Cole when I felt eyes on me. I turned my head to the right and found two guys around my age, maybe a little older, smiling at me. Although I glanced away quickly, my noticing them seemed to invite their attention.

They slid their drinks down the bar and came to a stop at my side. I very deliberately ignored them. It didn’t deter them.

“Having a nice night?” the one closest to me said.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“I’m Gordon. This is my mate Barry. What’s your name?”

I didn’t answer because I didn’t want to encourage them. As it was I could feel their eyes crawling all over me. I was wearing jeans and my olive green cami and matching cardy. My makeup was subtle, and I was wearing flat-heeled boots. There was nothing about my appearance that screamed I was out on the town. I had no idea why I’d attracted their attention, and frankly I didn’t care. There was nothing that turned me off more than guys who sat at bars and constantly hit on anything that moved. There was a desperation about it, a soullessness, that the romantic in me revolted against.

“Oh, come on, we’re harmless, sweetheart,” the other one said.

I frowned. “I’m not interested.”

The one farther away shrugged and began to retreat, but his friend actually moved closer to me. “Sounds like you’re having a bad day. I’m a really good listener.”

Eh . . . apparently not.

I snorted. “All evidence to the contrary.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m not interested.”

He laughed, like I’d said something funny. My eyebrows drew together in confusion.

“You look like that actress,” he said, shifting even closer. “That Australian actress. You look like her when she was younger. I had the biggest hard-on for her.”

Really?

Before I could follow up my look of disgust with a verbal “get lost,” a sudden heat engulfed me and a shadow fell over me. Two strong, tattooed arms caged me in as they came to rest on the bar at either side of mine, and a hard chest pressed against my back

I relaxed immediately and glanced up over my shoulder at Cole’s handsome face. Currently it was turned away from me as he glowered at the persistent barfly.

Although the friend instantly backed up even farther than he already had done, the “good listener” just stared dumbly at Cole.

Cole raised an eyebrow at him. “Which part of this doesn’t say ‘fuck off’ to you?”

The idiot studied Cole for a moment as if he was considering ignoring him, and then his brain finally seemed to compute what his eyes were telling him. Cole was bigger and much, much scarier than he was. He lowered his gaze. “Sorry, mate. Didn’t know she was taken.”

He shuffled off down the bar, already searching the pub for a new target.

Cole bent his head, his lips brushing my ear. “You okay?”

Unable to form a coherent sentence with him pressed up against me, I nodded.

Seeming to sense that, Cole hesitated a second. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

My pulse raced with that feeling of anticipation I’d had earlier. “Yes. But not like you think.”

I heard his sharp intake of breath and braced myself.

His lips were at my ear again. “Do you want me, Shannon?”

My legs began to tremble. “Yes.”

Cole exhaled, as though he was relieved, and to my surprise he buried his nose in the crook of my neck, relaxing into me. The scratch of the bristle on his cheeks against my skin caused tingling in all my feminine places. He breathed me in and lifted his head just as the bartender served up the drinks.

It broke the moment between us.

Cole stepped away from me and I shivered at the loss of his heat.

To my confusion Cole didn’t say another word as I paid for the drinks and we returned to the table.

He sat next to me, drinking his pint like nothing had happened. I stewed in uncertainty, ignoring our friends’ questioning looks (they’d obviously seen our interaction at the bar) and sipping my drink. Tony didn’t take long to dispel the awkwardness by launching into a story about a biker bar he once went to in Glasgow.

I tried to pay attention, laughing at all the right bits, but it was difficult.

After I finished the last sip of my rum and Coke, I put my empty glass on the table and wondered how rude it would be to leave early.

Apparently Cole didn’t care if it was rude.

As soon as my glass hit the table, he pushed his chair back, grabbed my hand, and stood up, pulling me gently up with him. Our friends went instantly quiet. Cole gave them a nod and began leading me away. I had just enough time to snatch up my purse and throw Rae a wide-eyed look that was part “holy heck” and part giddy, before Cole had us outside the bar.

I looked at him for direction, but he was focused on finding us a taxi. His hand curled tight around mine, he strode quickly down the street, and his arm stretched up as soon as a cab with a light on appeared.

He opened the car door for me and I climbed in, my stomach just a flurry of butterflies. Cole settled in next to me, his right side pressed against my left, and he entwined the fingers of his right hand in my left before placing our clasped hands on his thigh. He gave the taxi driver his address and I immediately felt a quiver between my legs.

This was going to happen.

I was going to have sex with Cole Walker.

Hot, exciting, sexy images filled my head, so by the time the car pulled up outside Cole’s building I was already ready for him.

It was easy to sense Cole’s impatience as he practically threw money at the taxi driver and hurried us out of the cab and up the stairs to his flat. At no point did he let go of my hand as he opened his door and led me down his hallway to a room at the end of it.

The master bedroom.

Like the rest of his flat, it had high ceilings, deep coving, and a gorgeous bay window. Blinds were drawn down over them, giving us privacy. In the center of the room was a king-sized bed with a chunky, masculine walnut frame. In the corner of the room near the door to the en suite was a contemporary black leather reading chair. The walls were painted a warm mocha and buttercream, and the plush carpet beneath my feet was dark chocolate. Above the headboard was a huge black-and-white photograph taken from the backseat of a classic American convertible. The driver was turned in profile. He wore dark aviators and smoke billowed from his lips as he seemed to stare out at the world in boredom.

Beyond the car was a deep canyon, giving the impression that the car was mere inches from the edge.

The whole room was cool and sexy and completely Cole.

My eyes flew to him as he let go of my hand and walked over to the end of the bed. He turned and looked at me, almost taunting me with the heat in his eyes.

We both knew we were about to cross the line I’d drawn between us a long time ago.

Before we crossed that line, before there was no turning back, I had to be sure we were on the same page. “I like you, Cole. I do. And clearly I’m attracted to you . . . but you have to know there’s a possibility that I won’t ever learn to trust you. And you said you don’t do casual . . .”

Cole’s answer was to shrug out of his jacket and throw it on a nearby chair. His fierce gaze delved deep inside me. “Shannon, there is nothing casual about how I feel about you. There hasn’t been since the day I stepped out of Ellie and Adam’s house and found you on the stoop. I get you don’t trust me and I get why, but I want you to give me the chance to change that. I think there’s something here that’s worth all the effort.”

“Cole,” I said as my lips trembled, my eyes misting. I felt too much, just too, too much . . . “I wish I’d never left you that day.”

I knew he understood instantly all the many reasons I wished I’d never walked away from that strangely magical connection I’d felt with Cole when we were fifteen. If I’d never walked away, life would never have taught me not to trust this man—a man who just might deserve my trust much more than the others who had come before him.

I saw the pain and regret mingle with the heat in Cole’s eyes and I understood without him having to say that he was feeling it too.

Suddenly I was in his arms.

His lips crashed down on mine as I stood up on tiptoe, my hands fisted in the back of Cole’s T-shirt as I tasted him for the first time. Two seconds later he gripped my bottom in his hands and lifted me. I wrapped my legs around his waist and melted into him as the kiss turned wild. He had one arm around my back while his other hand threaded through my hair to hold my head, to hold me to his lips.

I wanted that kiss to go on forever—it was hungry and wet and hard. It was so crazy beautiful I didn’t even realize Cole had moved us to the bed until he lowered himself on it and my knees hit the duvet on either side of his hips.

He pulled back from the kiss and we panted against each other’s mouths. Cole brushed my hair back from my face and it took everything within me to tear my gaze from his gorgeous mouth. As soon as I looked into his green eyes, however, I swore I’d never look away. The gold flecks in them seemed brighter than ever as he said, his voice hoarse, “I want to see you. Just you and all that f**king hair.”

I bit my lip on a shy smile. Although excited, I couldn’t help wondering how I’d measure up to the tall goddesses who seemed to decorate Cole’s past. I’d heard the stories and even seen some pictures, courtesy of Rae. However, I discovered a while ago that men generally didn’t get as hard as Cole was right now unless you turned them on, and acting insecure would definitely take the sexy out of our very sexy—oh my God, too sexy to breathe—situation. “I’m starting to think you like my hair.”

He touched a strand that fell down over my breast, his hands gently caressing it in a way I felt between my legs. I shifted a little impatiently against his erection. “I love your hair,” he murmured, more than a little distracted. “You have no idea how many fantasies I’ve had about you and your hair.”

Flushing hotter than I would have thought possible, I squirmed and whispered, “Tell me one.”

“The most recent?” he said, dragging his gaze from my hair and br**sts to my eyes. “You’re na**d on your hands and knees, and your hair is spilling down your shoulders, the ends touching my ink on your lower back. Some of your hair is wrapped lightly around my hand as I f**k you from behind.” His eyes flashed. “Hard.”

I was panting now at the visual, the hot puffs touching Cole’s mouth. “I want that.”

A possessiveness entered Cole’s eyes, a possessiveness that given my history caused me momentary panic . . . but then he was kissing me again, his hand fisted in my hair. The feel of his tongue stroking mine, the taste of him, the smell of him . . . nothing else mattered.

The kiss broke but only because Cole was reaching for the hem of my camisole. “We need to be careful with your tattoo,” he panted as he lifted my top up. I raised my arms to assist him, the cool air prickling over my skin and turning my already tight ni**les harder. Cole threw my top somewhere over my shoulder and spanned my waist with his hands. “My thumbs almost touch,” he said quietly, almost as if to himself. “You’re tiny.”

“Or you just have big hands,” I murmured saucily.

“I do but you’re still tiny.” His eyes lifted to my br**sts and I was suddenly glad I’d had the forethought before leaving the flat to put on my best bra—a satin and lace balconette in a pretty peach color. “These . . . not so much.” He gave me a hungry smile and somehow I managed to melt even more. He met my hot gaze. “You really are perfect.” His tongue wet his lower lip before he said gruffly, “The fantasy doesn’t live up to reality, Shortcake.”

Then I jumped him. His signature version of sweet and hot was pushing me to the combustion point. Cole met my aggressive kiss with his own fever, his hands carefully dodging my tattoo as they slid up my back, under my hair, to my bra clasp. I felt it loosen within seconds and Cole gently pushed me back so he could look at me as he removed it.

He sucked in a breath as the straps fell down my arms, his eyes fixated on my na**d br**sts even as he threw the bra aside. I swelled at the need in his eyes, my ni**les puckering up under his focus, begging for his mouth.

Cole’s fingers went to the button on my jeans. “Get these off,” he commanded, and I felt the demand in my core. Trembling, I slid off the bed and began to undo my jeans.

“Undress,” I demanded right back.

I stopped to watch as he removed his sweater and the T-shirt underneath it, my eyes drinking in his beautiful tan body. Sculpted and tawny and inked. The deep cut in his obliques made my throat suddenly dry. I wanted to lick the sexy definition in his muscles before moving on to his six-pack.

I’d known he was muscular, but I’d had no idea just how tightly roped he was. He was honed and toned and fighting fit and I almost cl**axed just looking at him.