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She plows her hand into my hair, the sensation of her fingers teasing my scalp almost too much to bear, then she drags me in for a tongue-thrusting kiss. We consume each other like nothing else in the world can satisfy our hunger, like if we separate our mouths, the world might stop turning.
I want her in my bed. Tonight.
What on earth is wrong with me? I pull away, staring at the lass.
She's staring at me too, her lips parted.
That look does me in, shattering the last thread of my willpower.
I hook an arm around her waist and draw her snug against me. She must feel my stiff cock, but I don't care. My voice comes out raspy and deeper, like I've become a satyr. "Are ye sure ye know what yer doing, lass?"
Her eyes go wide. She shakes her head, all that chestnut hair flinging around her face, and she staggers backward. Her hand flies to her mouth, but her gaze veers down to her free hand. She scrubs her fingers on her dress, though I have no idea why. She seems uncomfortable.
I reach for her hand. "Erica, are ye all right?"
She bolts away from me.
Though I try to run after her, a group of drunken laddies gets in my way, blocking my path to the club's entrance. I glimpse Erica sprinting down that corridor, but by the time I get around the scunners, she's gone.
I race outside. She's not there either. I've lost her.
But I know where she lives. I can check on her tomorrow to make sure she's all right. Her reaction to our kiss seemed…oddly panicked. I should apologize to her, though I can't figure out what I've done wrong.
You're a dunderhead, Lachlan. That's what you've done wrong.
Aye, and I should know better by now.
Chapter Three
After a fitful night's sleep, I wake in the morning feeling like I've committed a crime and need to turn myself in to the authorities. Is it illegal for a forty-two-old man to seduce a young woman? Erica is an adult, but I still feel like I've done something wrong. She kissed me, and I kissed her back. I haven't enjoyed a kiss that much in years.
Erica Teague is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. According to my mate Gil, she's also clever and sweet. He mentioned she's been quieter lately, and not as "sunny" as usual. I wonder why that is, but it's not my business. I should stay away from Erica.
After having a shower, I get dressed and wander into the living room. Gil Friedman is letting me stay here for a month while he and his bride, Jayne, enjoy the comfort of my Edinburgh flat for a week before they head to my cottage in the Highlands for three weeks. Exchanging houses for a while had seemed like the best way to escape my problems back home, but now I'm wondering if I've made a mistake.
Erica Teague lives next door.
I sit on the sofa while I eat my breakfast, but I try not to gaze out the living-room window. It overlooks Erica's kitchen. So I stare down at my bowl of oatmeal instead. I've eaten half of my breakfast when movement beyond the window catches my eye.
Don't look, ye cacan. Stay away from Erica.
Maybe I should worry for my sanity when I'm calling myself a wee shit in my own thoughts.
I can't resist the siren call of the window, though, and I find my gaze swerving to the view—the one that looks into Erica's kitchen. I see her tossing some kind of food to a golden retriever that hops up on its hind legs in its eagerness to grab the treat. Then Erica washes her hands in the sink. She's bonnie and sexy, even when she's wearing sweatpants and a loose-fitting T-shirt. Her chestnut hair glistens in the morning light that filters through the window into her kitchen. A slight smile tugs at her lips.
Christ, I want her. Even more than I did last night.
Stop looking, you baothair, and stop thinking about her too.Maybe calling myself an idiot in Gaelic will knock some sense into me.
Not bloody likely.
I wolf down the rest of my oatmeal, keeping my head bowed. But when I've finished eating, I stand up and do the last thing I ought to be doing. I glance out the window.
Erica is smiling and saying something to her dog. Based on her expression and the way she puckers her lips when she speaks to the animal, I think she must be cooing silly words, like baby-talk for canines.
Sod it all. I can't pretend I never met the woman and avoid all contact with her for the entire four weeks I'll be here. I could move to a hotel, but I'd been looking forward to staying in a cozy home. I also promised Gil and Jayne I'd look after their house.
I pull on my shoes, grab my mobile, and head for the front door.
