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“I’ve always been terrible. It’s one of my weaknesses,” he said with a cake-blissed smile that made her stomach clench.

And this time, it was hotter. Needier.

Maybe it was the intimacy of the quiet cottage. Or maybe it was simply the way he was looking at her, his gaze lingering just a beat too long.

She cleared her throat, trying to gather herself. “Well, you could have worse weaknesses,” she murmured, reaching for a slice herself.

“Seriously, though, Jenn, these cakes are amazing. I honestly don’t think you’re capable of a bad bake. You’ve been brilliant for the café. Islanders, tourists—everyone loves you. It’s just a shame Ealasaid holds you back. I bet you’d do so much more if it were yours.”

Jenn blinked, his words landing somewhere deep. “Funny you should say that… I’ve been pushing for a few changes. Nothing wild—just more veggie and vegan options. Even just some sweet potato fries.”

“Well, isn’t the café lease up next year? And Ealasaid’s talking about finally retiring… Why don’t you go for it?”

“Oh, wow, I haven’t even really thought about that. It’s more than just baking—it’d be everything else…”

“No pressure,” he said, voice dropping warm and low. “But you’d be amazing at it. Then again, I might be biased.” His wink was wicked, and he popped the last bite of chocolate cupcake into his mouth.

“Do you want any more cake?” Jenn stood, suddenly feeling restless, nervous energy fizzing under her skin. She wiped her palms down her dress as if to steady herself.

“Nope, I’m good for cake…”

Before she could take a step, Ruairidh’s hand closed around hers, firm and warm.

“But I’m definitely in the mood for something sweet,” he murmured, voice rough with suggestion.

He gave her a gentle tug back onto the sofa. And something inside Jenn snapped.

“Ruairidh…” Her voice was barely a whisper, caught somewhere between surprise and need.

His eyes, blazing and intense, locked on hers as if waiting for permission. For a beat, they simply stared at each other, breath mingling, the playful cake-chat evaporating into something far heavier. His thumb brushed across the back of her hand, slow and deliberate, then moved to trace the edge of her jaw.

Jenn’s breath caught.

When his lips finally met hers, it was soft at first—testing, almost careful. But the second she kissed him back, the restraint broke. The kiss deepened, his mouth moving over hers with a hunger that made her head spin. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly as he tilted his head and kissed her harder. He tasted of coffee and cake, sweet and warm.

When his tongue slid against hers, a low moan escaped her throat. He swallowed it with another kiss, his hand skimming down her spine before slipping under the hem of her dress, his fingers grazing bare skin. The touch made her jolt, a wave of goosebumps racing up her legs and arms. She arched into him, desperate for more of his warmth, his weight.

“Jenn…” His voice was rough, his forehead pressed to hers for a moment as though he was trying to steady himself.

“Yes,” she breathed, kissing him again, unable to stop herself.

They tumbled into the cushions, a tangle of limbs and laughter that quickly dissolved back into heat. Ruairidh’s hands roamed her back and thighs as he settled over her, his lips moving from her mouth to the soft curve of her jaw and the sensitive hollow of her throat.

“Oh God…” Jenn gasped, her fingers sliding under his jumper and skimming over his stomach. She wanted—no, needed—to feel him.

She tugged impatiently at his clothes, and he sat up just enough to strip off his jumper and shirt in one messy motion, clothes scattering somewhere on the floor.

Before she could laugh or tease, his mouth was on hers again, hot and urgent, and she could feel the restrained strength in his body as he pressed her deeper into the cushions. Her dress had ridden up around her hips, and when his hand traced the line of her thigh and brushed the edge of her underwear, she let out a soft, needy sound that only spurred him on.

Ruairidh’s hand lingered on the soft curve of her thigh, his thumb stroking the bare skin above her knee. It was maddeningly slow, as though he knew the effect he had on her and wanted to savour every reaction.

Jenn’s breath hitched as his fingers edged higher, brushing her upper thigh, teasing rather than taking. She bucked her hips slightly, an unspoken plea, but he only gave her a wicked smile against her lips and kissed her harder.

Her own hands were restless now, exploring him with growing urgency—skimming the broad muscles of his shoulders, digging her fingers into his back, sliding down to the waistband of his jeans. God, he felt incredible under her touch, solid and warm.

“Ruairidh…” she whispered, breathless and wanting.

“Jenn…” His mouth trailed to her neck, his lips and teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below her ear.