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“So, you are Alistair.”
“Ali, please. Yes, I am. Pleased to meet you, Sera.”
“Pleased to meet you. I’m sorry for crashing your party. And for being…er…strict.”
“You were just looking after me. I appreciate that. And anyway, I quite liked it…the strictness…” His blue eyes dance as he speaks.
I find myself fighting the urge to reach out and touch his face. His eyes meet mine. Fire creeps across my cheeks, but I hold his gaze.
“Sera, I…” He opens his mouth to speak but falters mid-sentence. He reaches and brushes his hand down my cheek.
I am literally on fire. My whole body is glowing like the don’t-walk figure on a traffic crossing. Ali’s other hand is on my knee, and I can’t think of anything but the heat that is radiating from my core. I puff out a breath and pull off my sweater.
Alistair’s eyes widen. “That isn’tquitewhat I expected to happen.”
“I’m roasting,” I pant. “I didn’t put the heating onthathigh.”
“It isn’t the heating.” He tilts his glass towards me and places his hand on his chest. “It is internal heating.”
I place my hand over his. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve never been this bold in my life before. Must be the whisky.
“Not just me then,” I murmur, squeezing his hand.
“Definitely not just you.”
He leans towards me.
As I welcome his kiss, I marvel at myself. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m normally extremely pedestrian in my approach to such things, eschewing random hook-ups for dates and at least some semblance of a build-up. But right now circumstance is offering me a gift. A Christmas gift. In August. A gift which I fully intend to enjoy. If all else fails, I can always blame it on the mistletoe festooned about the pool house.
No strings. No attachment. Just a bit of fun.
The man is frankly mouth-watering. The fresh scent of his skin mixed with the woody, whisky brush of his breath against my lips is intoxicating. I yield my mouth to his, melting into his hands as his tongue gently explores my mouth. His hands roam over my body, dipping under my t-shirt to find the swell of my breasts. He rubs his thumb over the hardened peak of my nipple, sending tongues of flame scorching through my body to my groin.
My breath catches in my throat as he pushes me backwards into the mattress and his body covers mine. He’s gentle, careful not to hurt me. The weight of his athlete’s body on mine is delightful. The press of his crotch against my own makes me want him so badly that my head is spinning.
“I am so glad you weren’t dead,” I murmur as he trails a line of nibbling kisses down my neck.
He pauses. “That is without a doubt one of the strangest things anyone has ever said to me during sex.”
“Technically foreplay.”
“Of course. Yeesh, you really are strict.”
“Oh, you think so, do you? I can be a whole lot stricter.” I look him dead in the eye with the most serious expression I can muster.
He meets the challenge in my gaze. “Excellent,” he says with a slow smile.
“Take off your shirt.”
“As you command.”
He kneels to remove his shirt and I slide out from underneath him. As he drops it to the floor, I place my hands against his chest and push him backwards onto the bed. I straddle him, revelling in the feeling of his thick, kilt-covered thighs cushioning my ass. Holding his gaze, I wiggle my hips as I remove my t-shirt. He groans.
The planes of his glorious torso are laid out before me like a map of heaven. I bend to run my tongue over his smooth skin. I kiss my way over each curve and rise of his abs and pecs. By the time I reach his mouth, his breath is ragged and his eyes are blazing.
My breasts are pressed against his chest. I’m conscious that my ass is raised fully in the air. The least favourite of my body parts. I shift my body, but I’m too late. His eyes are on my derriere.
“Mmm, boobs or bum?” he muses. “Man’s eternal dilemma.”
