Page 49 of Highland Games
17
Zoe put her camera down on a small table. Rory was facing away from her, his hands squeezed so tightly into fists the knuckles were white. She walked to his side.
‘Rory?’ He continued to stare out of the window, his body tensed. She swallowed. ‘Can you look at me?’ He ignored her, but she could see a pulse beating wildly in his neck. She touched his arm. He flinched and shrugged her off.
‘Don’t you like me?’ she asked.
Rory turned towards her. His eyes were burning. She stepped back, her breath stuck in her throat. Silence stretched out, waiting to snap.
‘No, Zoe, I don’t like you.’ His voice was strained; the voice of a man pushed to the edge of reason, then kicked off into the abyss. ‘I’m overwhelmed by you. My head is so full of you there’s no room for anything else.’
He pressed his fists into his temples.
‘My life was simple before you showed up, and now it’s a car crash. I can’t think straight. Fuck, I can’t even think at all when you’re around. I might as well try to count all the stars in the universe than make it through a day without a raging hard-on or dropping a boiler on my foot.’
He advanced on her. She backed away until she bumped into the edge of the bed. She leaned back against it and he leaned forward, towering over her.
‘So no, I don’t like you. I want you. I crave you. I hunger for you. Everything you are, and everything you do drives me crazy. Like doesn’t even begin to cover it.’ He closed his eyes. ‘I can’t be here. I can’t—’
Zoe put her arms around his neck and stopped his mouth with a kiss.
Their lips touched with a tingle of electricity, a fizzing pleasure that spread through her chest and ran down her spine with a shiver. She moulded herself to his rigid body, stroking the back of his neck with her fingertips, coaxing him to respond. His lips were shut but soft and warm. She kissed around his mouth, the prickle of his stubble thrilling her nerve endings.
He reached back behind his neck, grabbed her wrists and slowly pulled them away from him, breaking the connection. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked, his tone harsh but his breathing ragged, as if he had just run for miles.
‘I’m kissing you.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I don’t like you either.’ She saw confusion, uncertainty, doubt, disbelief and hope flash across his face like a summer storm.
‘You don’t?’
She shook her head, then rewound her arms around his neck and brought her mouth back to his, running the tip of her tongue between his lips, willing him to open to her. As she scraped her nails up into his hair, he broke, groaning and wrapping her in his arms, meeting her passion with his own. He kissed her like a man lost in the desert being given a cool glass of water, holding her tightly, possessing her, running his tongue into her mouth, drinking her in. Zoe gasped, relief and desire coursing through her. She clung to him, a throbbing heat urging her closer.
He broke the kiss and stared at her, blinking as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. ‘You’re so beautiful. Jesus, Zoe.’ He lay her back on the bed, his left hand cradling her head, and sunk his face into her curls, kissing her, inhaling her, growling with desire. ‘You’re so fucking beautiful.’ He buried through her hair to the sensitive skin of her neck; kissing, nipping, licking whilst she writhed beneath him.
‘Oh god, Rory.’ She bit her lip to stop it trembling.
She reached towards his kilt, needing to feel him. He shot back as if scorched, pinning her hand to her side. He lay his forehead on hers.
‘Fuck no, Zoe. You can’t touch me or I’ll explode.’
She felt his hot breath on her face, and lifted her lips to his burning cheek, kissing her way up to his ear. ‘But I want to,’ she whispered.
She gently tugged on his earlobe with her teeth. It was like pouring gasoline on an inferno. He took her mouth with his, devouring her, as he pushed past layers of satin and net to find her leg, running his hand up her skin, dragging her bottom towards him. He bent his right leg and pushed his thigh between hers as she writhed to get closer, grabbing at his glorious mane, pulling at his arms, frantic with need. He slipped his hand under the cotton of her pants, cupping her bottom, the calluses on his palm sending shivers across her silky skin.
‘God, Zoe. It’s, it’s…’
She bucked her hips against him, desperately seeking relief. He released the pressure of his leg between hers and she tried to open for him against the confines of the dress, shifting her hips, encouraging him to move. As she twisted he let go of her bottom, and slowly slid his hand around to her front, sinking a thick finger into her wet heat. She cried out and he growled in response, sucking at her bottom lip and her tongue, feasting on her.
He circled around her clitoris, zeroing in on the source of her pleasure. Flashes of fire shot through her, ricocheting back and forth, colliding and multiplying, as she began to shake. She was imprisoned by the dress, his mouth, his caress, and the only escape was up. He stroked her higher and higher. She wanted to touch him, to give him the same pleasure he was giving her, but she was lost, disorientated, her breathing fitful and frantic.
‘Yes, Zoe, yes,’ he breathed between deep, frenzied kisses. He held her tightly, relentlessly driving her on. His fingers were flames, filling her with light and heat as she blazed in his arms. She felt the pressure building, saw stars behind her eyes, heard a ringing in her ears as he rocketed her into a blinding climax. She detonated with a scream, her body pulsing with spasms of searing pleasure, looping and radiating through her.
He swallowed her cries, holding her, riding out the overwhelming sensations that throbbed and burned, the aftershocks darting over her skin. Eventually, she went limp in his arms with a soft sigh, her eyes open but unseeing. She was vaguely aware of Rory gently kissing her forehead, but she was scattered, lost across multiple dimensions of space and time.
He stopped kissing her. ‘Get up,’ he whispered urgently. He leapt off, strode to the door and was gone.
