Page 37 of Gift-Wrapped in a Kilt

She stood in the doorway, clothed in only a raincoat.

Gavin seized her arm and hauled her into the bedroom, kicking the door shut. "You show up here looking for a good time, like nothing happened the other day. This is crazy. You can't expect me to be up for this after the fight we —"

Jamie whisked her hands down to his waistband, fingering the button of his jeans. Her other hand drifted lower, exploring the length of his erection in smooth swipes of her palm.

He hissed in a breath. Damn, but the light, teasing touch of her fingers was making all the blood evacuate his brain and head straight for his groin. He couldn't move to stop her, wasn't at all sure he wanted her to stop.

They could not have sex like this. The fight the other day. Her pronouncement of "sex only." Those things made it a bad, bad, bad idea all by themselves. Add in the fact they were in Iain's house with Iain twenty feet away in the living room…

Gavin didn't get the chance to examine those reasons. Jamie ripped open the raincoat, the snaps popping apart, and dropped the coat on the floor. She kicked off her shoes.

Naked. Jamie. Creamy skin. Dusky-pink nipples. His gaze wandered lower to the golden-brown hair at the juncture of her thighs.

He gulped. Hard.

She plastered her body to his, all that soft skin warming him through his clothes. "You want me. I want you. It doesn't have to be complicated."

"Yes, it does." With more willpower than he'd known he had, he backed away from her. "We're not strangers having a one-nighter. This is complicated, Jamie, because we know each other backwards and forwards. I know you have a weird and kind of adorable obsession with bicycles. I know you love to be all girlie, but you also love to get your hands dirty helping Tavish take care of the garden."

The Scottish vixen sashayed up to him, those lush hips swaying, and took hold of the button on his jeans. "Getting dirty is exactly what I want tonight."

Oh shit. How was he supposed to keep resisting her?

He had to resist, period. Letting her coax him into a round of hot sex under these circumstances would be the wrong thing to do.

She wetted her lips with a long, slow glide of her pink tongue.

Wrong sounded awfully good right now.

No, no, no, you idiot.

He raised a hand. "Let's talk about this —"

"Mm-mm." She fanned her palms over his chest and pushed, reeling him backward onto the bed. "No more talking."

Okay, he could've fought a little harder when she pushed him. Her behavior, so unlike anything she'd done before, had caught him off guard. Sure, that was why he'd let her knock him back onto the mattress. It had nothing to do with his throbbing dick or the way her breasts bounced when she shoved him.

He raised onto his elbows, his feet still on the floor. "Jamie —"

"Shh." The vixen knelt between his legs and unhooked the button on his jeans. "Lie back and relax."

Was she nuts? Relax, with her naked and wedged between his legs inches from his hard-on.

He needed to stop this.

Yeah, he'd do that… in a few more seconds.

She unzipped his jeans, slipped her hand inside his boxers, and closed those soft fingers around his dick. Her pupils had gone large and dark. Her lips parted as she withdrew his length from his pants. She drew in a shaky breath, her tits heaving, and all the while her hand stayed firmly around him.

What was going on here? She'd sauntered into the bedroom and pushed him onto the bed, that's what. She seemed intent on —

Jamie laved her tongue over the head of his cock.

He jerked and gasped.

What kind of man lay here in a lump while his girlfriend did naughty things to him?

The really, really lucky kind.

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