He kissed me.
There was no warning. Not even a second of hesitation before his mouth was on mine, hot and desperate, swallowing the rest of my words. His hands slid from my arms to my face, cradling my jaw, tilting my head back so he could kiss me deeper.
I couldn’t run. I couldn’t keep warning him about the danger.I needed him more than I could quit him.Instead, I grabbed fistfuls of his jumper and pulled him closer.
The kiss was nothing like I’d imagined. It was better. It was everything. Years of longing and denial and desperate wanting, all of it pouring out in the press of lips and the slide of tongues and the soft, broken sounds we made against each other’s mouths.
Graham’s hands dropped to my hips. He lifted me like I weighed nothing, and suddenly my back was against one of the standing stones, the ancient rock cold and solid through his coat. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him pressed against me.
“I don’t care about the curse,” he growled against my lips. “I don’t care about any of it.”
“Graham—”
“I’ve loved you since I was sixteen years old.” He pulled back to look at me, his eyes blazing. “I’ve loved you through every rejection, every excuse, every time you told me to move on. You think some ancient family curse is going to scare me off now?”
“You have no idea, Graham. Every man … youcan’t… this is a huge deal. It should scare you. You should be terrified. You really should.”
“Well, it doesn’t.” He kissed me again, hard and fierce. “I’d rather have one more day with you than a lifetime without you. I’d rather drown in that bloody loch than spend another ten years watching you pretend you don’t feel this.”
“That’s not—” I gasped as his mouth found my neck. “That’s not romantic, that’s suicidal.”
“It’s the truth.” His lips traced up to my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “You’re not the only one who gets to be stubborn, Agnes Wright. I can be just as pigheaded as you.”
I half laughed, half sobbed. My hands found his hair, fingers threading through the damp strands, pulling him closer.
“We need to talk about this properly,” I managed. “There’s so much I haven’t told you. The Bookkeeper role, the betrayal, the?—”
“Later.” He kissed me again, slow and deep. “Talk later. Right now I just need—” He took my lips again. “I need to make up for years of not doing this.”
I couldn’t argue with that logic.
The world narrowed to just us. Just his hands on my body and his mouth on mine and the solid press of him between my thighs. The standing stone held my back, ancient and all-knowing, holding me up when I would have collapsed. The mist swirled around us and cooled my heated skin. Nothing else existed, in this moment, as far as I was concerned. Nothing else mattered.
I’d spent so long being afraid.Solong denying myself this. And now that I had it—now that I hadhim—I couldn’t remember why I’d ever thought I could live without it.
The sky chose that moment to open up.
And this was not the gentle Scottish drizzle we’d been wandering through. This was actual rain, coming down in sheets, cold and relentless.
Graham swore and pulled back, shielding me with his body as best he could. I was already soaked through, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I was laughing, really laughing, for the first time in days.
“Come on.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the stone. “My place.”
We ran down the hill together, slipping on wet grass, and laughing like idiots. The rain plastered my hair to my face and soaked through every layer of clothing, but Graham’s hand was warm and solid in mine, and I couldn’t stop smiling.
This was real. This was happening. After years of fighting it, I was finally letting myself fall.
Whatever came next, we’d face it together.
Graham pulled me through the streets of Loren Brae,past the darkened windows of Bonnie Books, past the warm glow of The Tipsy Thistle where I dearly hoped someone else was covering his shift tonight. We stumbled up the stairs to his flat above the pub, both of us breathless and dripping, and when he fumbled with his keys, I pressed myself against his back and kissed the rain from his neck.
“You’re not helping,” he groaned.
“I’m not trying to help.” I laughed against his back as he swore under his breath.
He got the door open and pulled me inside.
Tomorrow I’d tell him everything. The curse, the Beithir, the three challenges I had to face. Tomorrow we would make a plan and hopefully figure out how to break this thing that had haunted my family for generations.
