I slid my hand between my thighs, closed my eyes, and envisioned half-naked Weston in nothing but a kilt, his muscles tensing as he rocked against me. My clit pulsed as I rubbed slow, teasing circles around it, imagining it was Weston’s fingers, imagining his weight pressing me into the mattress, imagining his cock pressing against my?—
I lost my train of thought as the orgasm took me, dragging me into a space between wake and sleep that was filled with nothing but pleasure for a few blissful moments. Then the intensity subsided and the mortification set in, chasing the last pleasurable bits of my orgasm away.
I groaned again, the unsteady thrum of embarrassment vibrating between my ribs. What was wrong with me?
No…No!I told myself. It was fine.
Everything was just fine.
Because pleasuring myself to thoughts of Weston didn’t really mean anything. Dreams were…weird sometimes. They weren’t an accurate reflection of reality. Everyone knew that.
This was simply a product of stress and proximity and…getting my wires crossed in sleep because here I was in this giant Scottish castle, planning a very Scottish festival, while pretending to be married to my very Scottish husband. No wonder I had kilts on the brain!
I sucked in a steadying breath, releasing it slowly. But that wasn’t the full truth, was it? Weston had grown on me in a way I hadn’t expected since arriving here. He’d slipped past my defenses, and not just with those sexy forearms. It was the way he smiled at me in the quiet moments. The way our hands fit together. The sound of the word “wife” tumbling between his lips.
God fucking dammit!I wasn’t just lusting over my boss. I was falling for him.
Gah!
I jammed my face into the pillow, knowing full well that falling for Weston Kincaid was a bad idea. I needed to slam those boundaries back into place before these dreams got me into real trouble.
10
WESTON
Ialways thought the hardest day of my life was going to be sitting by Grandad’s sickbed, holding his hand while I waited for him to take his final breaths. As it turned out, I never got a chance to do that. But as the driver pulled into the gravel lot next to the funeral home, I knew today would be just as hard.
A wave of grief crashed into me as I stepped out of the car, and for one terrifying moment, I wasn’t sure I could catch my breath. Then suddenly Lena was there at my side, taking my hand like it was her sole job in the world. As she entwined our fingers, I clung to her tightly, using her presence to ground me. When I finally felt as though I could take a breath, I squeezed back and she reached up with her other hand to grab my bicep.
“I just want you to know,” she whispered as we filed toward the funeral home for the service. The exterior of their stone chapel was moss covered, the arching doorway surrounded on both sides by yew trees. “Whatever you need today, I’ve got it. Don’t worry about playing host or putting on a good show. Just say goodbye to your grandfather however you need, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“I know you will.” I’d expect nothing less of Lena because that was her in a nutshell: efficiency personified and always exactly where I needed her to be. I also knew she was more than that—kind and compassionate. Our footsteps echoed across the floor. Inside was cool and dim, the air smelling of old wood and candle wax. “And thank you, I appreciate itand you. Especially today.”
She simply nodded, a few curls slipping free of the intricate knot she’d twisted her hair into today. It was practical and appropriate, but it still looked soft and pretty with the simple black dress with lace sleeves she wore. I’d already let my thoughts wander multiple times about what it would be like to brush my fingers against the soft skin between those pockets of lace.
“I’m going to go make sure the choir has everything they need,” Lena said, her hand slipping from mine.
I nodded, watching her rush off, wishing for a beat that I hadn’t let her go. Everything seemed easier when she was close—and harder when she was out of my sight.
“Hiya, mate,” Locke said, walking out of the sea of black. He clapped me on the shoulder, pulling me in for a long hug. He’d been the oldestandtallest of us growing up, but now I was able to look him in the eye.
“I see you’re going for the rugged look,” I said.
Locke touched his face where he’d let his dark beard grow out. “Figured I’d try to emulate Grandad Pete a bit.”
“Handsome bastard’s probably just trying to get himself on the cover ofGQagain,” Alistair said, joining us. His pocket square had subtle pink flowers—his daughter’s favorite color. “What was the headline again?Highland Gentleman: Modern Power,Old-World Charm. Guess you gotta look your best when the world thinks you’re a real estate mogul,” he teased, nudging Locke on the chin. He turned to me. “All right?”
I nodded as he clapped me on the back. Alistair looked even more tired than I felt, and who could blame him? Three years ago, he’d been on top of the world, with his tech company reaching new heights and Jessica, his girlfriend, by his side, pregnant with their first child. But just a few months ago, it had all come crashing down. Jessica, it turned out, had been using him all along, and once she’d finally gotten the access she needed, she’d stolen millions from his company and disappeared, leaving him and their child behind. No one had been able to track her down ever since, and all the blame and condemnation was falling directly on Alistair. The tabloids were tearing him absolutely to shreds, and he hadn’t been seen in public in weeks. The fact that he was here meant a lot.
“Kenna didn’t come?” I asked, looking around for the pint-sized princess who called me Unca Weston.
“Nah,” Alistair said. “Thought I’d spare her this for a few more years.”
“Probably for the best,” Locke agreed. He wrapped one arm around my shoulders, the other around Alistair’s. “And this way you’re free for a drink. We’ll go down to the pub after today’s all said and done. Send Grandad Pete off the right way.”
“He’d be pleased to see us all reunited again,” I said, my throat thick. It continuously caught me off guard—the realization that Grandad was gone. I wasn’t sure when it would stop taking me by surprise, hitting me like a sucker punch straight to my blind spot.
“You got the wife thing sorted?” Locke said, his eyes darting across the room where Lena was guiding one of the elderly residents to her seat.
