Kiss of the Highlander

Bristling, she tossed her bangs out of her eyes. “Let’s get something straight, MacKeltar. I am not going home with you. I am not going to bed with you, and I am not wasting one more moment arguing with you.”

“I promise not to mock you when you change your mind, lass.”

“Oooh. Contrary to what you might think, arrogance does not work as an aphrodisiac on me.” It was only a small lie. Arrogance alone didn’t, but this particular arrogant man was a walking lollipop, and she was certain that latching her lips onto any part of him would satisfy the relentless oral craving she’d been fighting for ten days, seven hours, and forty-three minutes, not that she was counting.

“Aphro-di-si-ac,” he repeated slowly, brows furrowed. He was silent a moment, then he said, “Ah, Greek: Aphrodite and akos. Mean you a love potion?”

“Sort of.” How could he not know that word? she wondered, eyeing him warily. And why break it into Greek parts?

When he grinned cockily, she dropped her gaze and pretended a sudden fascination with her cuticles. The man was too damn sexy for his own good. And standing way too close.

He slid his hands into her hair and tugged gently, forcing her to look at him. His silver eyes glittered. “Tell me you doona feel mating heat between us. Tell me you doona desire me, Gwen Cassidy.” His gaze dared her to lie.

Dismayed, she realized he could sense how much she wanted him, just as she could sense that he wanted to be all over her, so she did what handling insurance claims had taught her to do best: Deny, deny, deny.

“I doona desire you,” she mocked lightly. Yeah, right. The sexual tension between them nearly qualified as a fifth force of nature.

He inclined his head. A dark eyebrow rose and his gaze was amused, as if he were somehow privy to her internal dissenting opinion. One corner of his mouth lifted in a faint smile. “When you finally speak the truth, it will be so sweet, wee English. It will make me hard as stone, the mere words upon your lips.”

She felt it imprudent to point out that he already was. When he’d buried his hands in her hair, he’d brushed that part of him against her. She was shocked to realize she was actually contemplating having impulsive sex with him, trying to decide what was the worst that could happen if she did as many people she knew did—just hopped into bed with a stranger. God, he was so tempting. She wanted to experience passion, and when he looked at her the way he was looking at her right now, she felt an epiphany might be a hot, slippery kiss away.

But he was headstrong, too gorgeous for anyone’s peace of mind, a wildly unpredictable variable in a risky equation, and she knew what those could do—create chaos. The nervous flutter in her stomach, the desire she felt was too novel a sensation for her to act upon it without careful consideration.

Although she wanted to change her life and was determined to lose her virginity, she was beginning to realize that it wasn’t as easy to change one’s ways as she’d thought it would be. Thinking about having sex with a virtual stranger was a whole lot different than actually plunging right into the heat and nakedness and rawness of it. Especially when that virtual stranger was so much man, a little odd, and a lot overwhelming. Her newfound feelings of desire scared her. The intensity of her body’s reaction to him scared her.

Perhaps she could do it with him on the last day of her trip, she mused. He was certainly willing. She could have what she knew would be heart-pounding sex, then fly back home and never have to see him again. She’d bought condoms before leaving the States, and they were tucked safely in her pack….

Sheesh! Was madness contagious? What on earth was she thinking?

A brisk shake of her head restored her sanity.

“Come,” he said.

I’d like to, but you’re way too dangerous, she thought with a sigh.

Since he was heading down the hill in the general direction of the inn, she followed. “You don’t have to hold my hand,” she protested. “I’m not going to run off.”

His eyes crinkled with silent amusement as he released her. “I enjoy holding your hand. But you may walk beside me,” he informed her.

“I wouldn’t walk anywhere else,” she muttered. Behind would feed his ego, although she’d get to watch his incredible body, unobserved. In front, she’d be miserable, feeling his gaze on her. Beside him was the only tolerable place.

He took long strides, his natural pace a lope for her, but she refused to complain. The faster he walked, the more quickly she could surround herself with the safety of the teeming village. She’d never dreamed she’d be so grateful to see a busload of senior citizens in her life.