Page 33 of Plaid Attitude
And that was it.
He was…hugging her?
She’d been held by him like this during the last sennight, but only while kissing. Only with a fire, a yearning, throbbing through her veins, with his incessant hardness pressing against her belly.
This wasn’t like that at all. This was nice. Different, but nice.
This was…Coira felt cherished. She felt as if she was being cherished.
Slowly, her arms snaked around his middle and she settled against him.
Somewhere behind her, came the faint sound of Hagrid snuffling under her bed, and she wondered if the little bugger had managed to find any insects to snack on, or if she should pop down to the kitchens for dried fruit.
Ye’re still trying to take care of everyone. Try to relax.
She had no idea how.
But when Doughall began to rub up and down her back, she exhaled and felt some of the tension leave her.
“I’m sorry about yer da,” he murmured against her hair. “He’s a good man, and I’m glad Nicola was able to save him.”
“He’s a terrible leader.” Her voice was muffled against his shoulder. “And no’ the best father.”
She felt him snort. “Aye, but still a good man. Ye can pretend to be only thinking of the work involved, but I ken what ye’re feeling.”
Did he? Did he understand the confused bundle of emotions knotting in her chest when Coira herself didn’t? Anger and frustration and fear and anxiety?
The sob took her by surprise, but not him. Doughall just rubbed her back and whispered words of comfort as she cried.
“I dinnae want him to die,” she finally sniffed, her cheek pillowed by his shoulder. “I already do his work for him, and aye, he’s daft as a—a—a verra daft thing, but still.”
“Ye love him,” Doughall prompted quietly.
“I love him.”
Who knows how long she stood there, crying against him, with him rubbing her back and beingkind. But after a while, the tears were done, and she felt…
Well, she didn’t feel drained, the way a good cry usually made her feel. Instead, she felt…antsy.Itchy, even. Like she was waiting for more. More…
She knew what she wanted.
Something shifted in their stance. Whereas before, he’d been holding her as a friend might, now… Her lips brushed the skin of his neck, and his arms tightened around her. When she spread her fingers across his back, he swallowed twice.
And she felt his cock stirring against her belly.
“Thank ye, Doughall,” she whispered, then kissed him again, experimentally.
“Coira…” He cleared his throat as his large hand moved up her back; not making those comforting circles anymore, nay. This was more…proprietary.As if he had a right to touch her.
She shivered.Aye, please. Touch me!
“Thank ye for making me feel a bit better, Doughall.”
“A—Abit?”
She smiled, then shifted her mouth closer to his neck so she could kiss him again. Besides, the shoulder of his shirt was soaked from her tears, and right now she wanted something besides sorrow.
Her lips trailed up his throat. “I can think of a way ye can make me feel even better,” she murmured.
