Page 9 of The Wolf in My Tavern

My chest tightens with emotion, and I turn into his warm hand, delighting in the way the light touch stirs a flutter low in my belly.

Hearing his groan, my eyes flash open to meet his.

“I want to kiss you, Ada,” he says softly. “So badly, it hurts.”

I nod. Words are beyond me, but I want him to kiss me with equal desperation.

My breath catches as he leans down, and his soft lips brush against mine. I moan and hitch another breath as his tongue slides across the seam. I’ve never been kissed before, and I’m not sure what I should do, yet it seems natural to part for him.

His fingers sink into my hair, turning me slightly as he angles his face and deepens the kiss. My hands find his broad shoulders to steady me as the world begins to spin.

I hear a moan and realize it’s me, that I have boldly pressed closer and opened my mouth further. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, and my breath traps in my lungs. My body feels alive with energy, a heady rushing sensation that makes me tingle all over as heat pools in my lower belly.

His lips are suddenly wrenched away, and he sucks in a breath. “Fuck,” he mutters gruffly. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean… Did I scare you?”

“No,” I say quickly. I’m still leaning into him shamelessly with my fingers petting his shoulders. His body is big and firm against mine and makes me feel so safe.

He smiles. “Good. Because I want to do it again.”

The next kiss is far bolder. I entwine my arms around his neck and sink straight into it. I can’t get enough of him, of the feel of his lips, hungry against mine, the rushing urgency that seems to consume me until there is nothing but him.

Someone clears their throat loudly.

We break apart.

Goodness, what was I doing?!

“Don’t mind me,” Gareth says. “Just need a fresh barrel of Pilkington!”

Callum chuckles and takes my hand as we move out of Gareth’s way. “I’ve had a taste now, Ada,” he lowers his head to whisper beside my ear. “And I’m going to want another one.”

Chapter Four

Callum

“I’ve had a taste now, Ada. And I’m going to want another one.”

I cringe as I replay what I just said and shovel another spoonful of beef stew into my mouth.

It is fucking hot, and I burn my mouth. I barely notice. I’m on a mission to eat as fast as I can like it might distract me from the nonsense I just did and said.

“Everything alright, lad?” my father asks, lifting his head to pin me with a look.

“I’m good, thanks, Pa,” I say, busy trying not to think about how hot my ears feel. They are like a fucking beacon announcing to the world that I have been an idiot. The lass probably thinks I’m a complete lout, mauling her like I did.

Only that kiss. I groan. My father side-eyes me before turning back to Pete. It’s hot in here, and maybe I can blame my ears on the heat coming off the fire. I’m fucking sweating, not that I can blame that on the fire, either.

Tim comes over to toss a couple more logs onto the fire like divine intervention calls him to make my situation even worse. I adjust the collar on my shirt and dunk a slice of bread into my stew before shoveling it into my mouth. I tell myself she wanted the kiss, but truth be told, I’m confused about how it started. If Gareth hadn’t come round the corner to get another barrel of Pilkington ale, I fear where things might have gone.

Only I’m not the kind of lad to hurt a lass. It would be on her terms, and I would go fucking slow about it. But damn, everything is muddled up in my mind. I think she nodded when I asked her if I could kiss her, but I’d got tunnel vision at that point and can’t say for sure.

I glance up in time to see Ada weaving between tables as she delivers a round of ales. She’s only been here a few months but has already settled in. I can’t help the scowl when someone pats her ass. The lass has been through a fucking trauma and doesn’t need to deal with handsy men.

Fuck! I am also a handsy man!

I don’t realize I’m growling under my breath until I notice my father pause with his spoon halfway to his mouth.

He grins. I wind my unnatural aggression down a notch and try to ignore my hot ears. I envy that my pa has brown hair and eyes and has never blushed once, while I take after my mother with her ginger hair and green eyes. My father tells me I have her ways, too, although I don’t know exactly what that means.

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