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"I meant I like having sex with you."
Oh no, she will never convince me that's what has her off balance. And I can't stop my lips from stretching into a triumphant smile as the truth hits me. "You like me. A lot."
"No," she says, elongating the word as if that will make her denial sound more believable. "I do like you, but not that much. Don't get all excited and misinterpret what I said to mean I'm in love with you. I'm not." She scoots away from me to flop onto her back atop the covers. "I couldn't fall for someone I met a couple weeks ago."
"Never said you were in love with me. But you must be afraid you might love me, else you wouldn't have said it." I discard the condom in the little rubbish bin by the bed and settle onto my side next to her, my head supported by my raised hand. "If you like me a lot, that's enough for the moment."
"You can't hold me to statements I make right after experiencing a brain-scrambling orgasm."
"All right, I won't." I spread a hand over her belly, just below her breasts. "But I like you very much too. And it's not coming inside your exquisite little body that makes me feel this way."
She wriggles and twists her mouth into a strange expression, then glances around. "What happened to my surprises?"
"Ah, those." I jump off the bed to retrieve the plastic sack and insulated bag. Both items I place on the bed beside her while I perch on the edge. "First, something to remember me by."
She sits up, tucking her legs under her cross-legged.
From the plastic sack, I produce a mug emblazoned with bold, red letters that spell out "Scots do it better." I set the mug on her knee.
Laughing, she picks up the item and turns it in her hand. "Where did you find this?"
"Had it made special, by a shop in town. Picked it up this morning."
"So that's where you disappeared to for ten minutes when the rest of us were browsing souvenirs."
"I slipped away to a shop down the street." I smile with my lips closed, probably seeming prouder of my secret shopping than I should be, but I like surprising Calli. And I love making her smile.
She deposits the mug on the bedside table. "Jamie said you were in the restroom."
"She was my accomplice." I toss the empty sack onto the floor and unzip the top of the rectangular, insulated bag. Reaching inside, I pause to look at her. "I've pulled together a kind of picnic for you, but I was limited to the items available in your kitchen."
"Then I'm sure I'll like whatever it is. Seeing as it's my food."
"One item was not from your kitchen." I bring out a plastic travel cup with a straw sticking out of it, filled with a light-brown liquid. "Try this? You said you would if I gave you sex."
"Uh… What is that?" she asks, eying the liquid askance. Then she seems to remember what we'd talked about the other day, and her brows furrow. Her lip curls up slightly too. "Whisky?"
I sigh, offering her the cup. "Don't curl your lip. Ahmno giving you poison, and this is Atholl Brose, a blend of whisky, oatmeal, honey, and cream. Give it a go is all I ask." I slide my tongue out to moisten my lips with one long, sensual stroke, just to make her cheeks turn pink—which they do, of course. "Though not even Atholl Brose can compare to the intoxicating taste of you."
Unscrewing the cup's lid, I show her the contents. The creamy liquid sloshes inside the cup, its white color tinged with a rich shade of caramel.
She rolls her gaze up to mine. "Well, I did promise."
"Do you trust me?"
"I do."
Reattaching the lid, I tilt the cup so the straw angles toward her mouth.
Calli closes her lips over the straw, taking a tentative pull. Her expression brightens. "Mm, this is good."
"Maybe whisky isn't so horrid after all."
"Not when it's drowned in cream and honey."
"I know, you still hate whisky on its own." I bend forward to steal a swig of the rich concoction. "But you like Atholl Brose, and you like me. I'll settle for that."
She gets a suspicious look on her face, and I can guess what she's thinking.
