A Highlander's Obsession Page 21

  Her eyes flashed brilliant blue before turning dark and stormy. “I don’t know if Gram’s in the mood for kissing or not, but I can double-damn guarantee you I’m not.” She shoved her owlish glasses up her nose and scowled. Sweet God, the woman was appealing as hell when she was pissed. One dose of her attitude and he was so turned on he could barely take in his next breath. She—his golden-haired beauty—was his next breath, and would be until the day he died.

  He grabbed a fistful of her hair and tugged so that her angry eyes looked into his. “Aye, ye do want to be kissed. Ye want it and need it as much as I do.”

  “If you two lovebirds will excuse me, I’m going to lie down for a nap.” Effie hurried to her room. “I’m sure I won’t hear a thing.”

  Creighton’s gaze slid from the closed door to narrowed eyes behind black frames. He ran a finger along one of the sidepieces. “Ye know, when I first met ye, I hated these bloody things. I wondered why an attractive woman would wear such butt-ugly glasses. Now I love them, just as I love everything about ye.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  His love was well and truly pissed. He was about to teach her how determined a Scot could be. He nuzzled her neck and inhaled her cherry-blossom fragrance. “I love how ye smell.”

  She grunted.

  He smiled against her neck. “Ye have skin like human silk. Soft. Sensual.” He nipped her jawline and soothed with his tongue.

  She shivered ever so slightly.

  “Ye are perfection in me eyes.” He sucked on her lower lip and her eyes crossed. With great care, he breathed kisses across her face, then dropped the blanket to the floor, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her to him. “I love ye with a fierceness, and God knows I’m sorry fer taking away some of yer memory. ’Twas the wrong thing to do, and I promise never to do it again.”

  Her warm hands settled on his chest. “You stole the memory of our first kiss. That can’t be given back.” Blue eyes tore at his soul. “It’s lost to me forever.”

  “Will ye allow me to share the memory I have of it?”

  She pulled back. “You don’t remember the kiss. Men don’t place importance on sentimental things like women do.”

  “Ye’ve never known a Scottish man before, have ye? We Scots value our sentimentality. I’ve replayed that kiss over and over in me mind.” He splayed his fingers in her hair and stared into her eyes for a few seconds, allowing every nuance of that kiss to surface in his mind. “I remember putting me fingers in yer soft tresses like this. I told ye I was giving in to the need to do what I’d desired the minute I watched ye exit the Land Rover with the Scottish gales blowing about yer golden hair.”

  “You remember all that?”

  “Aye.” He smiled at her skepticism. “Then I said, ‘I’m going to kiss ye,’ and ye replied with, ‘You are?’ And I said I was. Then I slipped off yer glasses.” He slid her dark frames from her nose and laid them on the desk behind her.

  She blinked twice. “What then?”

  “I said, ‘I’m going to kiss ye, well and good.’ ”

  Her delectable lips twitched. “That seems to be a favorite saying of yours.”

  “Aye, with ye, it is.” He pressed his lips against her temple and she leaned in to him. Her hands eased from his chest to his shoulders. “I told ye when I was through”—his lips rubbed across her cheek—“it would be me ye dreamed of that night, not yer fiancé.” His hold tightened on her and his mouth forged a trail to her ear, drawing her earlobe into his mouth just as he remembered doing in this same room in front of the roaring fire. “I promised ye it would be me ye yearned for.”

  She exhaled an audible sigh.

  His teeth grazed her jawline.

  Her mouth opened in response, and a moan escaped.

  “That’s how it was between us, me beauty. I poured me heart out to ye and ye breathed in me words, me passion. Ye felt what I shared with ye and yer body responded, just as it’s doing now.” Her moan caressed his ears and he bestowed tiny kisses, featherlight, over her face while his arms held her to him. “We are like thirst and water, ye and I. Thirst and water.”

  Her fingers curled and uncurled in his hair. “Did you really say those words to me that night?”

  He nodded and pulled back. “When the moment trembled with passion, I told ye to look at me, and when yer breathtaking blue eyes opened, I slowly lowered me head like this.” Her eyes widened as his head lowered, slowly, ever so slowly. When his lips were a fraction of an inch away from hers, he stopped. “I never wanted to kiss a woman the way I wanted, needed to kiss ye at that moment.” He groaned and his voice lowered to a pained whisper. “Just as I need to kiss ye now, leannan.” Finally, he allowed his lips to cover hers. Cover and take control.

  Arousing mewling sounds emerged from her throat. He hardened in response. When his tongue swept across her lips, she opened. He stroked his tongue across hers and groaned at her honeyed sweetness. There was no struggle, only surrender. She surrendered her anger to him and he surrendered his soul to her.

  Creighton broke the kiss for an instant to angle his head and slip his hand under her sweater. “My God, leannan, yer addictive. An obsession.” Slowly he slid his hand up her back, pushing her tighter against him. Chest to chest. Thigh to thigh. The friction of her sweater and jeans against his bare skin brought sexual sensations that begged and screamed for more. He cupped her bottom and lifted her to him. She wrapped her legs around his hips and he pressed his groin against hers. Desire roared through his system. Mate. Mate, now.

  He pulled his lips from hers, his breathing heavy. “I want ye and I need ye like I need me heart to pulse its next beat. Ye’ve got three seconds to refuse me before I carry ye into yer room and make love to ye.”

  “An hour ago you were too weak to stand.”

  “Ye canna keep a good Scot down.” He waggled his thick black eyebrows. “Not when one certain blonde slides her luscious body around his.” He inclined his head and nibbled at her neck. “Ye are so feckin’ sexy.”

  “Condom?”

  “Bloody hell! I forgot.” He slid her down until her feet touched the floor and then wrapped the fallen blanket around his waist. When he wrenched the door open to the hallway, he glanced at her over his shoulder. “Have yer mind made up by the time I get back. There will be no discussion. If yer in yer bed—”

  Her blue eyes studied him and her tongue swept across her bottom lip. “I’ll be there.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dear God, what had she just done? She’d sent an aroused male on a condom hunt. The moment seemed so perfect between them. Both were equally turned on, and yet she’d made him stop. Truth be told, she’d had to force the question from her lips for, right at that moment, she didn’t care about a damn condom. She wanted him deep inside her. The man made her melt and yearn for a permanent place in his heart, but she’d never been irresponsible about sex. It was simply too dangerous.

  He’d told her to be ready when he got back. She hurried into her bedroom and tugged off her turtleneck. My hair! She charged into the bathroom and ran a brush through her tresses. Her lips had been kissed bare, so she applied more lip gloss. Some eyeliner and a couple swipes of the mascara wand and her eyes were more pronounced.

  She smiled when she pushed her glasses back on her nose. Creighton said he loved them, while Alex called her black frames “childish Harry Potter spectacles.” Huh, a lot that jerk knows about sexy. Her Scot, on the other hand, oozed sex appeal. More important, he made her feel sexy. Her. Bookworm Paisley was—she grinned at Creighton’s choice of words—“feckin’ sexy.” She puckered an air kiss at her reflection in the mirror before she snatched up her hairbrush, and using it as an imaginary microphone, began singing.

  Pretend mic in hand, she danced into the bedroom, singing Rod Stewart’s “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?” She executed a few dance steps she’d read about in books on modern dance. Losing herself to the groove of the music, she swayed and gyrated as she belted out the lyrics in h
er fake Scottish burr. She toed off her shoes and shimmied out of her jeans, bending to slip them over her feet. “If ye want me body and ye think I’m sexy—”

  “I’m thinking this is a sight and a sound I could get used to.”

  Paisley yelped and swung around. Her heart did a polka up her throat before sashaying a foxtrot to its normal place.

  “Ye have the sweetest ass, whether it’s in jeans, a skirt, or those skimpy, black, lacy panties ye’re wearing.” Creighton’s compliments skittered over her skin, warming her from the outside in.

  Her panties dampened. Oh yeah, he so did it for her.

  The man took her breath away. He had a set of clothes tucked under one arm, and foil packets protruded between his coiled fingers. His bare, muscled chest, with its wide treasure trail of dark hair, made her palms tingle to touch and tug. A pair of navy sweatpants hung low on his hips, the material tented and straining over his erection. He was pure sex in bare feet.

  Creighton tossed the condoms on the nightstand and laid his clothes and shoes on top of the dresser. “Will ye lock the door, leannan?” Gone was his normally loud, booming voice. In its place was a deep, sensual whisper that stimulated her like a sultry love song.

  “Sure.”

  She was nearly across the room when his words floated to her like a caress. “If ye lock the door, yer saying yes to all that will pass between us. If ye have any qualms, any fears, now is the time to air them … or to refuse the love I want to show ye. For once that lock is turned, ye’ll belong to me … forever.”

  No one loved her forever except for Gram. Certainly not her parents. Their love had been in direct proportion to her ability to be the ideal daughter. Alex? Alex had never loved her. Now that she was away from his constant haranguing, what he’d been after was clear as day—the celebrity status her gift would bring him as her husband and, no doubt, the money too.

  At the time, it seemed the easiest way to have a family, since he knew about her unique abilities and accepted them. Years earlier, she’d been through another jaw-dropping response when she told her college boyfriend about being able to communicate with animals. After his sarcastic remarks concerning her mental stability, he’d taken her back to her dorm and never contacted her again.

  There had been comfort in Alex’s approval of her uniqueness. Not the head-spinning passion Creighton elicited, but a sense of companionship, especially with both of their careers centered on animal care. Even with Alex’s often harsh criticisms regarding her femininity, their relationship seemed a comfortable fit until he began pushing her into the limelight, wanting to expose her gift.

  Her fingers rested on the cold key and she worried her lower lip. “What if …” Suddenly her excitement and bravado faded and memories of Alex’s comments rose to the forefront of her mind. “What if you find me lacking?”

  “Lacking?” The old wooden floorboards creaked and the heat from Creighton’s nearness grew stronger. His hands covered her arms and she shuddered at his touch.

  “Yes. What if I can’t satisfy you?” Alex had always accused her of being stiff and too inhibited. She’d die if Creighton thought the same thing.

  “We’ve been making love in one form or another since we met. Have ye found me lacking?”

  She shook her head. “No, not hardly. It’s just … Alex used to say …”

  “Alex, the bloody mindless fool, was not the man fer ye. I am.” In her peripheral vision, his dark head leaned toward her ear. “There’s nothing lacking or inferior about ye. Good God, woman, ye’ve had me turned on since the moment ye stepped from the Land Rover with the bay winds swirling yer golden hair about yer head and those long legs of yours encased in tight jeans.”

  A tear plopped onto her hand grasping the key. Somehow he always knew what she needed to hear.

  “What we’re about to share is more than sex, more than the mating of our bodies. It’s the mating of our hopes and desires and emotions. I’ll be sharing the depth of my love and the breadth of my hope that ye’ll be a part of me future.” His fingers slid down her arms and entwined with hers. “Sex is two people seeking a physical release.” He kissed the back of her neck and her nipples peaked. “What is about to happen between us will be two people making love.” A kiss on the other side of her neck sent an arrow of hot desire to her core. “Fer both of us, ’twill be a first.”

  “I … I’m no virgin, Creigh.”

  He puffed a burst of laughter. “Hell, neither am I. Far from it. Knowing the mechanics will heighten our pleasure, but it’s the love, leannan, that will bind us.”

  Never had she met a man who could express himself like this. At times, he almost waxed like a Scottish poet—Burns, Scott, or Stevenson. She turned the key and Creighton breathed kisses across her shoulders.

  “Doesn’t it worry you how quickly things are happening between us? We’ve only known each other a short time. Alex said—”

  Creighton roared and flipped her so her back was against the door. “I never want to hear his name tumble from yer lips again. Never!” He clasped her chin between his thumb and two fingers, forcing her gaze to meet his. “I’m not an easy man, Paisley. All the pressures of the clan make me moody. I’m also possessive as fukin’ hell. Jealous? Aye. In fact, where yer concerned, I’ll be sixty shades beyond jealous. I’ve waited a long time fer ye, the beat of my heart, and I’ll not share ye with anyone in the flesh or in yer mind. Do ye ken what I’m saying?”

  “I won’t be bossed around. I am my own woman.”

  He thrust both of her hands over her head and shifted his knee between her legs. “Nay, woman, ye are mine.” His hard body pressed her against the wooden door, its cold surface raising gooseflesh … or was it the way he glared at her? His expression was almost feral, his eyes glowing golden and his teeth bared. “Mine.” His lips crushed hers—claiming, taking, branding. He trembled as if he were trying to maintain control while his insistent mouth stole hers away.

  When he’d robbed her of every rational thought, he pulled back and leaned his forehead against hers. “I dinna want ye to obey me every word. To want that would be abusive.” He kissed her forehead and cheeks. “I welcome a good difference of opinion. A healthy fight clears the air and our make-up sex will be so feckin’ hot, it’ll make us forget what the bloody hell we were arguing about. I love ye the way ye are, Paisley. No other man can love ye the way I plan to. Ye will be mine.”

  His warm lips gently touched hers and she melted.

  His tongue traced an unhurried path across the seam of her lips and she shivered before opening her mouth to him.

  His tongue stroked the top and tip of hers before a groan erupted from his chest and he clenched her hair in his fists to demonstrate his promise. Need, passion, and love pulsed from him as he poured all those emotions and more into the kiss.

  “I love ye, leannan, and I will love thee fer a thousand years after I die.”

  “You remind me of a poet.”

  He dropped to his knees and winked. “Love does make poets of us all, and I’m thinking once our lovemaking is over, ye’ll have a poem fer me.” He lifted one of her feet and pressed a kiss across her toes.

  She giggled and one of his dark eyebrows arched when he glanced at her. Surely he wasn’t serious. “Wait, you want me to quote a poet?”

  He kissed the arch of her foot. “Nay, ye will compose a poem fer me.” A slow smile of masculine determination spread as his broad hand encircled her ankle. “Something to extol me virtues. Me sexuality.” Brown eyes twinkled with humor. At times like this, he wasn’t the stern laird. He was simply himself—engaging, loving, and humorous.

  Very slowly he kissed his way up her legs. By the time he reached her thighs, she trembled with desire. Her Scot certainly knew how to take his time. His hands swept to her hips and he tugged on the elastic of her panties. “I’m thinking black lace looks incredible against your pearly-white satin skin. Too bad these have to come off.” He tugged and she stepped out of them when they reached he
r ankles.

  After he flung the scrap of black lace aside, his dark eyes raked across the naked expanse of her and snagged on the metal of her navel ring. “Bloody hell. A piercing?” He rose from his low crouch to his knees and touched the silver ring and dangling teardrop of lapis.

  “I don’t wear it every day.”

  He kissed a circle around the silver ring and her eyes drifted shut on a sigh. At times his lips could be so soft. “Christ, this turns me on. I’m thinking ye should wear it every day.”

  “Getting the piercing was an act of defiance.” When she’d told Alex she wanted one, he insisted it would make her look cheap. She’d gotten it anyway.

  “God, I love a defiant woman. It’s sexy as bloody hell. Everything about ye is sexy. Looks like I got sidetracked and missed a verra important stop on me journey of sensual discovery.”

  His hands swept around her hips and clasped both cheeks of her ass. Her eyes snapped open. His dark head leaned in and his mouth took possession of her core. She gasped and squeezed her thighs together, hoping he wouldn’t discover how wet he’d made her. That idea was shot to hell when, with a sweep of his tongue, he separated her folds and inserted first one finger and then two. She shuddered and her breathing came in bursts in time with the motion of his fingers. “You’re so wet for me, luv.” His tongue circled and flicked over her clit until she lost her grasp on reality. Her fingers entwined into his hair and her knees gave way. His arm banded around her thighs, preventing her from sliding down the door.

  “Creigh!” The tension was building, coiling tight and squeezing the air from her lungs.

  “Come for me, luv.” He changed the angle of his fingers and rasped over her G-spot, and she was sure her eyes rolled back in her head. Every muscle, every tendon, every cell in her body quivered and chanted his name. For a few seconds, she was sure her heart would burst, and maybe it did, for when it coalesced again, Creighton was at its center.