Page 63 of Highland Games
Rory’s cheeks burned. He nodded. ‘But she’s not, I mean that’s not what I—’
‘Who is she?’ Zoe interrupted, taking her elbows off the table and sitting up straight.
Rory sighed, and ran his fingers into his hair. This was not going well. Zoe sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. He dropped his hands into his lap and stared at them.
‘Lucy is the daughter of my mother’s best friend. We grew up knowing each other but we never spent much time together as adults. When my father died and I came back to Edinburgh, Mum wanted me to settle down, marry Lucy. We got together two months after he passed away, I proposed six months after that, and she broke it off four months later. That was about a year ago. Four months ago we had to sell the family house in Edinburgh, and move to Kinloch. The bed was meant to be a wedding present, but it never got finished. She didn’t want it. She didn’t want me.’
‘Did you love her?’
Rory nodded. ‘I thought I did. But with all the upheaval in my life at the time, I think I clung to her as an idea rather than the reality. We had nothing in common. It was like we were from different planets. I think she saw me as a project. A scruffy oik who could be tidied up and tamed.’
‘Being a scruffy oik is part of your charm.’
He raised his eyes to her, seeing a glimmer of humour in them. ‘When she left, it was the last straw. It nearly broke me. So I made a decision to get rid of anything I didn’t need, be on my own, cultivate my inner monk.’
‘Did it work?’
‘Until a few weeks ago. Then you showed up, and my inner monk buggered off.’ They stared at each other. Rory’s stomach twisted around his heart and squeezed. ‘You deserve the moon on a stick,’ he said, his voice cracking. ‘You deserve everything. You deserve more than me.’
He stood abruptly, and began clearing the table. ‘I’ll wash up and get going.’
Zoe’s forehead puckered with confusion. ‘You’re leaving?’
Rory nodded and carried what was on the table to the front door, returning to fill the kettle and put it on the Rayburn to boil.
‘I’m sorry, Zoe. For everything.’
She got out of her chair. ‘But what about pudding?’
His body was crisscrossed with darts of shame and desire. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not the man you think I am, or the man you deserve.’
Zoe took the kettle off the Rayburn and turned him to face her. She held his hands and rubbed her thumbs across the back of his knuckles. ‘I want you. Just the way you are. I’m not Lucy. I’m not asking you to change.’
‘But, what if things were different, I was different?’
‘You think I want a fancy-pants life? The bright lights of a city? If I’d wanted that I would have stayed in London. Sure, it would be great if the cabin had a bathroom and a kitchen, but just because I have an eye mask that says ‘Princess’ on it doesn’t mean I want to live in a castle. I don’t need that kind of bullshit in my life. Being with Prince Charming is the last thing I would ever want. I want a simple life. Here. With you.’
His insides stretched, as he was pulled apart. How could he have fucked this up so badly?
Zoe kissed him.
‘I have to go,’ he said, his voice taut.
She sighed, and put her arms around his broad shoulders, pressing tightly against him. ‘There is one part of your body that always speaks the truth and it’s telling me it wants you to stay,’ she said, kissing him again. ‘Why does it have to be so hard to seduce you?’
He lookedinto her deep brown eyes. He had never been so bewitched by a woman. She was the perfect fit, her tall, willowy body moulding to his. Her eyes were pools of chocolate, her freckles a dusting of cocoa powder, her hair spirals of spun sugar. She was the most delicious creature he had ever known, and he couldn’t get enough. Her lips were parted, and she ran her tongue across them, the movement sending a bolt of lightning straight to his straining cock. He pursed his lips and let out a long slow breath. She was impossible to resist.
He lowered his mouth to hers, the battle lost, and she sighed, her tongue darting out to meet his. He ran one hand up her back, under her clothes, and unfastened her bra. He groaned, grabbing her bottom as she ground herself against him.
All his dreams, all his fantasies, nothing ever compared to the reality of having her in his arms. The feelings blinded him. Every movement she made sent fire raging out of control through his body. No woman had ever had this effect on him. If he thought himself caught up in desire before then it was an illusion, a pale imitation, a candle next to an inferno.
As her tongue danced with his, he cupped her breasts, rolling and pinching her nipples, feeling her tremble, pushing her body into him. Every circle she made, each time she ground her hips forward poured more fuel onto the fire. He gripped her bottom tighter, her muscles clenching as she pushed herself against him, her legs spreading to anchor the strained ridge of him between her thighs. Darts of pleasure were shooting up his legs and down his chest, coalescing in his groin, drawing his balls up tightly.
He tore her top up and off, throwing it with her bra to the floor. He raked his eyes over her, taking her in. She looked drowsy with desire, her lips pink and swollen, air rushing past them as she breathed. He was overwhelmed with her beauty.
‘Jesus, Zoe.’ He swallowed, his mouth dry.
He fell on her breasts, thirstily sucking and rubbing as she whimpered and clawed at him. The roughness of his tongue and his fingers rasped over the sensitive tips, and she cried out, grabbing handfuls of his hair, kneading like a cat. Blood pounded through him, he couldn’t hold back much longer. He needed to taste her.
