Page 51 of Not Quite a Scot


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Finley put his hand on my shoulder. “Move over, Duchess.”

“There’s not room.” I didn’t want to pretend like everything was okay. I was frustrated and let down.

He joined me under the covers and lifted me on top of him. Putting his hands on both sides of my head, he kissed me long and deep. “Don’t worry, my southern belle. I’ve taken the edge off. This next time is all about you, I swear.”

“Next time?” I was turning into a parrot.

He ran his hands over my back and down to my generous butt. “These are the kind of curves that keep men awake at night,” he muttered.

Even if he was exaggerating, I savored the compliment. “I’m fine, Finley. Really. I don’t always have an orgasm. Let’s go to sleep.”

“Sorry, Duchess. No can do. My reputation is on the line.”

“I won’t tell a soul.”

He grinned up at me. Even in the dimly lit room, I could see the mischief in his eyes. “You won’t have to. I’m going to make love to you until you forget your name. Everyone in town will take one look at your face and know what we’ve been up to.”

I struggled until he released me. He leaned back on his elbows. I wanted to stand, but I was still naked. Instead, I dragged the blanket around my shoulders. “Be serious, Finley. The sun is up. I can’t have sex with you in broad daylight. I’m not that kind of woman.”

“Daytime sex isn’t a crime…not even in Scotland, I promise. Besides, it’s so cloudy and gloomy outside you can close your eyes and pretend it’s midnight.” He grabbed my ankle and dragged me back into reach. “C’mon, honey. You don’t have to be shy with me.”

“I’m not shy,” I protested.

I must not have been convincing, because before I could stop him, he moved me onto my back and started kissing my breasts.

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