Page 18 of Isla

"Isla. Look at me," he says, his voice rough with sleep. I don't dare, scared of what he'll see. "Isla." The command in his voice has me looking up, the raw desire in his eyes causing me to stumble back a step. "Good girl." He holds my gaze as he pulls on an old T-shirt. "Now that I'm safely clothed, what was that about?" he asks, stepping so close I have to strain my neck to keep eye contact.

I clear my throat. "I was thinking how you'll need another layer. It's cold out."

"No, you weren’t."

Fuck. "I was thinking about crawling under those covers and warming up." He cocks an eyebrow, snagging my hands from where I have them crossed over my chest.

"God, you're freezing."

"I told you it was cold–" I shriek as he grabs me around the waist and tosses me onto the bed. "My boots!"

"It's laundry day, so I'm washing the sheets anyway," he says, the bed dipping as he lies down behind me, pulling the covers over us."Can I–?"

"Yes," I whisper, having no idea what he's asking me but cognizant of the fact that I would say yes to anything he asks me right now. His broad hand splays over my hip, and he pulls me tight against his body, wrapping me in his arms. I melt into his heat, wedging my frozen fingers between his forearm and bicep.

"Better?" he asks, his chin settling on the crown of my head.

"Now that I know you're the human form of a furnace, I may take advantage of you."

His chuckle slides through me like whiskey, setting my nerve endings on fire. "I'd like that."

Tension slithers around us like a snake, making it hard to breathe. "You're not as prickly today," he muses, the warmth of his breath feathering over my ear. "More like a thicket of blackberries. You know you'll get torn up, but it's worth it for that sweet burst of juice in your mouth."

I snort. "You could be a poet," I say, sarcasm dripping from my words.

"Isla, a lass in the Highlands so grand, with fiery red hair and a freckled hand. Her green eyes sparkled with mischief and glee, in a castle up high, she lived wild and free."

My jaw drops. I twist in his arms to face him. "That was actually good!"

"I'm feeling a little offended by your surprise," he chuckles, blue eyes sparkling.

"It's just that–" I stop before I say something offensive. "Do you write poetry often?"

"I've been writing since grade school. Mostly songs, but I suppose that counts as poetry."

"Will you write me a song?" I ask, sitting up, excited by the idea. Henry's eyebrows shoot up, his gaze softening. He folds his arm behind his head, his bicep bulging obscenely.

"Yes. I would love to write you a song."

I clap my hands. "Good. I can't wait." I glance at my watch. "We should probably get going. It may be too late for a swim, but we could hit the gym and then grab a coffee at the café afterward."

"That sounds good. Give me a minute to get ready." He sits up, kissing me on the cheek before disappearing into the bathroom. I cover my cheek with my hand after he closes the door, dumbfounded at the range of emotions ping-ponging inside my brain. I take a deep breath and reel myself back. When it all comes down to it, he's technically just another tourist who will end up leaving.

I can still feel his hand on my hip, the way his fingers brushed over my stomach. I know in my gut that he would absolutely rock my world and then break my heart when he returned to the States. I stuff my feelings into the deep recesses of my heart and climb off the bed, heading back downstairs before I do something stupid like join him in the bathroom.

"Want to drive?"I ask him, dangling the keys in the air as he jogs down the stairs in a navy-blue sweatsuit.

"Seriously?"

I shrug. "If you want to." What the fuck has gotten into me? I never let anyone drive her. Ever.

"You trust me?"

With my life, I want to say, but I clamp my mouth closed and toss him the keys. I mentally shake myself.Get it together, MacLeod.

It takes Henry a mile or two to get the feel of it. He looks so happy that I don't say a word when we fly past the gym. After about ten minutes, I show him where to turn to loop back.

"Why didn't you tell me we passed it?" he asks, catching on immediately.

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