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Chapter Fifteen
Another day with Calli. What can I say? She gets more lovable every day, and more sensual. The lass cannae keep her hands off me, though we mostly hold hands. The occasional kiss involves our lips only. I can't help wishing she would straddle me again and kiss me like she wants to suffocate me with her tongue. I wouldn't mind dying if she's devouring me while it happens.
But we keep it chaste. Bloody hell, willpower is a terrible thing.
In the evening, we sit in the living room with Calli seated on the sofa facing the sliding glass doors while I lounge in an armchair that's positioned perpendicular to the sofa. And aye, I know what "perpendicular" means. Most lasses think I'm a dumb lug since I do construction for a living, but I need to understand geometry to do my job. Calli has never even suggested I might be a thickheaded erse. She seems to assume I have a brain and know how to use it. I love that about her.
She occupies the corner of the sofa with her legs tucked under her, and she keeps eying me like she might want to climb on my lap again.Please do, leannan. I haven't called her sweetheart in Gaelic out loud, but all day I found myself thinking the wordleannanevery time I looked at her. Aye, I'm falling for her. The idea doesn't fash me, though I know it fashes her. The remains of our dinner litter the coffee table—two plates scattered with crumbs, two empty water glasses, and two sets of forks and knives. I had insisted on making our meal from scratch.
When I told her that, she said, "You're a total sweetie-pie, but watching you cook makes me so damn hot for you."
Unfortunately, being "hot for" me didn't mean she planned to rip my clothes off.Damn.
While I relax in the armchair, I hook one ankle over the opposite knee and rest my hands on the chair's arms. The carpeting tickles my bare feet, but I like the sensation. It reminds me of Calli, for some reason. Aye, I'd love to roll around on the carpet with her. Today, I've been wearing a snug grey T-shirt and low-slung jeans because I love the way she licks her lips when she sees me dressed this way.
I swivel my gaze to her and rub my lips together like I'm starved and imagining the feast I want to devour. "What's for dessert?"
She will be my dessert, if I have my way.
"Nothing," she says. "Sorry, I didn't have time for baking, what with playing referee between the puppies and every object not nailed down in this house. They're always rambunctious, but they love you so much they're insanely happy."
"The pups are adorable, but not half as adorable as you."
"You're pretty damn adorable yourself."
"I'm wicked, remember? Maybe I need to remind you of it."
Rising, I stretch my arms above me and arch my back, knowing full well the action tightens my muscles and pulls my shirt up just enough to give her a glimpse of my abs. "Lachlan sent me a present."
The box had arrived by FedEx overnight delivery, addressed to me care of Calli. No matter how sexily she begged me to show her the contents, I had resisted her and only gave the lass a secretive smile whenever she asked about it.
"Thought you hated his presents," she says while shamelessly gawking at my body.
"Ah, but this one is for you." I amble toward the kitchen. "I stashed it in a cabinet, behind other things."
She cranes her neck to follow my movements. "Do I want to know what this gift is?"
"Something I want to share with you." I give her a mysterious smile, or at least I try to, then I bend down to retrieve the item in question and my head dips below the bar, out of her sight. When I pop up again, I'm holding the item behind my back. "Close your eyes."
"Why?"
"So suspicious," I chide, with humor in my tone. "Trust me."
Calli settles back into the sofa cushions and shuts her eyes.
I come out from behind the bar and approach the sofa, settling my weight onto the cushion beside her. "Open your eyes."
Blinking slowly, she turns her attention to the object in my hand. I have my fingers wrapped around a bottle filled with a golden liquid that almost glows in the lamplight. Confusion tightens her forehead. I rotate the bottle so she can see the label.
Calli reads it aloud, pronouncing the name carefully. "Talisker single-malt Scotch whisky."
I nod and puff up a wee bit, feeling oddly proud of myself for offering her this gift.
"Whisky?" she says. "You know I don't drink."
"Because you've never tasted a drink you like, that's what you said." I wag the bottle. "You'll like this. It's made on the Isle of Skye, off the western coast of the Highlands."
"I've heard of Skye, but I seriously doubt I'm going to like its whisky."
