Off Kilter (32 page)

“Dinner?” he said, lofting the orange tubers in his hand.

She could see him trying to bank his desire, stay focused on what he, too, thought was the better path for them to take. So, she nodded. But it took enormous willpower not to at least explore the idea of an alternate way to spend the next few hours. “What are those, anyway?” she asked.

“Sweet potatoes,” he said.

“Oh. They look like orange beets.”

He grinned. “You really aren’t a farm girl at all.”

“Despite having spent most of my adult life either in a sweltering hovel under a mosquito net, or in a bombed-out building under a mattress … apparently my childhood has also left lingering scars that I wasn’t even aware I possessed.”

“So … not a cook.”

She shook her head. “Forager extraordinaire. You’d be amazed at what I can find at four in the morning, in the worst places imaginable.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

She shrugged, but she was smiling. “Have it your way, then.”

“Oh,” he said, the intensity leaping right back into his green eyes, all but electrifying them, “I intend to. At some point.”

“You know,” she said, throwing caution directly into the wind, and not caring, “we could talk about my ideas for the new kinds of stories I want to tell—starting right here on Kinloch, by the way. You might have a personal interest in that one. And we can map out the three or four best shots to take for this calendar project. Over dinner.” She stepped right up against him and toyed with the button at the top of his shirt.

“Or?” he managed, and she was deeply gratified to hear the gravel in his voice, the thread of need. Glad to know she wasn’t the only one feeling what she was feeling, wanting what she was wanting.

“Or, you could ignore my less than lovely appearance at the moment, and at least pretend I’m looking fabulous and dynamic and sexy … and give me the rest of that tour you offered earlier. Fair warning though, being as we promised honesty with each other at all times.”

“Which is?” He tossed the sweet potatoes over his shoulder.

“At a certain point in said tour, I might try and have my way with you.”

“Really,” he said, then made her squeal by scooping her up in his arms.

“Roan, I am not a small—you can’t just—”

“Does it look like I’m strugglin’ under the unbearable weight of ye?” he said, as he carried her quite easily back into the house.

“No, but you don’t need to—”

“Oh, that is where you’re wrong,” he said, his wide grin carving that dimple deeply into his cheek. “I have all kinds of needs. And carrying you in my arms? Just one of many.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and laughed. “Many, huh?”

He kicked the kitchen door shut behind him with force enough to wedge the warped wood back into its frame. “That I know of at this moment. I plan to add to the list as I get to know ye better.” He slid her around in his arms and kissed her. “Find out what ye like … what makes your eyes go all—” He
kissed her again, longer, lingeringly, pausing in front of the door to the back hallway, and pressing her back up against it, until he could turn her and wrap her legs around his waist. He pushed right up in between them, making them both gasp, never once lifting his head.

She locked her arms around his neck, her legs around his hips … and kissed him back, releasing the full tumble of emotions, needs, wants, confusion, and joy. The kiss was as wrenching, as cathartic, as her breakdown by the cliffs … but rather than deplete her, exhaust her, and leave her feeling hollow and empty … it started an energy, a focused, driving force, that grew the longer she simply allowed herself to fully experience it.

Finally, he lifted his mouth, and her lips felt all tender and puffy and … loved.

His eyes glittered as he looked into hers. “Like that,” he finished. “I will happily make it my mission in life to find more ways to make you look at me, just like that.” Then he was making her squeal, in surprise and delight, as he hiked her up on him, pulled her close, and shifted them so he could yank the door open at her back.

He carried her down a wide hallway, and she vaguely found herself thinking that he was right, it didn’t smell at all like a barn, but that was about the extent of her awareness beyond the man presently carrying her. “You really do have a Rob Roy complex, don’t you?”

“If you dinnae mind being the conquered maiden on occasion,” he said, giving it right back to her, “then, aye, I can play savage heathen.” He kicked the door open to his room and turned so they fell across what felt like a sea of down and linen.

He rolled her to her back and half pinned her to the bed, his hand on her wrist, the other cupping her face. “And, for the record?”

He leaned down and kissed her again. It was so sweet and ardent and perfect, she felt her heart tilt dangerously close to its final tumble.

“For the record, what?” she asked, when he finally lifted his head. Not that she much cared what the answer was. She was too busy looking into the face of the first and only man she was truly going to fall in love with. How terrifyingly wonderful was that?

She pushed fear away, and the thousands of questions that went along with it, and for once, just let herself feel and experience the joy.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. Never more so than right now.”

“Roan—”

“Do ye want me, Tessa?”

She framed his face, and very deliberately looked right into his eyes. “Oh aye,” she said. “I want only you.”

“Ye have me,” he murmured. “Ye have all of me.”

H
e thought he’d be more worried about taking proper care of her, being enough for her, allowing himself to care so much, so quickly, and being terrified he’d lose everything when she couldn’t handle it and took off.

Instead, all he could think was,
thank you, God, for giving me this time, this moment
…
this woman.
He accepted the gift for what it was, knowing he was the richest man alive, no matter what came after.

He leaned down, and though she lifted her head to claim his mouth, he pushed her back down … and kissed her gently. Her cheeks were still ruddy from her tears, her eyes puffy and tender, and her lips soft and full and waiting for the taste of his. He took his time and kissed each part of her, soothing, tender, but also stirring … if the soft sounds she was making and the hips moving beneath his were any indication.

She finally slipped her wrist free from beneath his hand and gently cupped the side of his head, bringing his mouth to hers. “I want this,” she murmured. “I want you. And I want to give back.”

“You do,” he said against her lips. “The way you respond to me makes me feel like I could slay dragons.”

He felt her smile against his mouth. “Is this more of that warrior heathen thing?” she teased.

He nipped at her chin, then claimed her mouth with a kiss so
heated and passionate, she was left panting—and so was he—when he finally lifted his head. “Maybe,” he said, in answer to her. “Is that going to be a problem?”

She shook her head, and her eyes were gleaming. That lovely perfect smile hovered at the corners of her mouth, and he thought there was nothing they couldn’t get through as long as she looked at him like that.

“If there were such things as dragons, I’d gladly slay however many it takes if it will keep ye looking at me the way you are right now.”

“You say the loveliest things.” Then she surprised him by rolling him to his back. “Just how is it that I look at you?”

He grinned. He’d thought to be gentle and tender and soothing given all she’d been through that day. But she was being playful…. playful, fun, teasing. Hot, passionate, physical. He could see that was exactly what they both needed.
Step out of the dark, indeed, and into the pure, rejuvenating, healing light.

“In the way that tells me you want me,” he said, grinning broadly as he gave himself completely over to her and whatever mood she wanted to set. “Want me bad,” he added. “Not that I can blame ye, of course.”

“Of course. Modest, even here. I like it.”

“Oh, I plan to see that you more than like it.” He made his move, rolling up and taking her with him, then flipping her down to her back, pinning her with the full length of his body.

“More than like it?” she taunted right back and the avid gleam in her eyes had him so erect he hurt. “How, exactly, do you plan to do that?”

“I have many, many ways.”

Her eyes darkened as the pupils shot wide and her mouth parted, just slightly. He prayed he could keep his control long enough to take her on the promised journey of pleasure. Because one touch and he wasn’t too certain he would be able to last. The first time, anyway.

“Big talk,” she said.

“Aye, but small, delicately concentrated and concerted actions,”
he countered, then began unbuttoning her green cotton shirt. “In fact, there are two very concentrated areas I intend to spend a very focused and intent amount of time tending to right now.”

“Do you?” she said, but her hips were bucking, and her eyelids slipped shut as she sighed when he flicked open the front closure of her sheer, mint-colored bra.

“Oh, aye, that I do. Green is a good color on ye,” he said, promptly peeling the shirt off her. Using his teeth, the cups of her brassiere followed.

“Aye, indeed,” was all she managed as he dragged the shimmery fabric slowly across her taut, dark nipples. She was tall, lanky, and her body was lean, with a light ripple of muscle. The body of someone who required it to hold up to a lot of steady work. She wasn’t soft in too many places that he could see.

He leaned down and kissed the smooth spot between her bare breasts, then worked his way, with lips and tongue, around the soft swell of each of them, careful to leave the pebbled tips free from contact.

She was writhing beneath him with greater need, and her moans were coming in short gasps. Finally she lost patience and dug the fingers of her free hand through his hair, urging him to take what she so badly wanted to give him.

“Patience, dragonslayer,” he murmured against her skin.

“I thought that was you,” she panted.

“I would be. Will be,” he said, shifting his weight a little lower, and pinning her wrists easily back to the bed, delighted when she let him. “But, at the moment, I feel like I’m the one breathing fire.” He blew air directly across one nipple, then the other, making her buck hard off the bed under him. “You know what puts out fire?”

“What?” There was pleading in her tone, but it was the bald need that threatened to destroy what little control he had.

“This,” he said, and flicked his tongue across the tip of one, then the other. She moaned and his own body grew rather insistent.
He took one nipple in his mouth, laved it with his tongue, suckled it, until he thought he might drive himself over the edge as she bucked and arched beneath him, pressing directly against every straining inch of him. But he moved to the other, wanting to draw out the exquisite sensations, as long as he could.

“Roan,” she pleaded. “Oh—!”

Her hips jumped off the bed as he nipped at the hardened tip, and at first he thought he’d hurt her, but then she kept bucking and moaning and he realized she was coming.

“I’m no’ sure I’ll be able to keep up with ye,” he said, but he was happy at the prospect of trying. She’d been through so much, felt and seen so much tragedy and heartache, suffered so much of her own, it was stunning to him that she was so open, so responsive to him. Maybe it was because she didn’t let anyone close and the deprivation had made her ultra sensitive … or maybe it was the heightened emotions from earlier sending her nerve endings into a frenzy.

At the moment, he didn’t much care. Because he’d moved his nipping, suckling attentions to her other nipple … and swore she was climbing again.

“Roan,” she said, first on a moan, and then sounding almost panicky. He looked up, alarmed that maybe, somehow, it was triggering something bad inside her head. But her expression was one of stunned pleasure, and he realized that she was as shocked by her response as he was. “Don’t st—oh, exactly,” she said through a long groan, as he went back to what he’d been doing. “Exactly that. Lots of that.”

He grinned against her damp skin, liking how verbal she was, how frank, how … Tessa. Even in bed. It made him quite delightfully curious to find out what she’d be like if he … He scooted down further, sliding his hands down the sides of her waist, to her hips … and the waistband of her khaki trousers.

“Oh, that would be …” she began, but ended with a groan as he slowly tugged down the zipper to part the front panels of
her trousers … only to find matching mint green silk. She had the body, mind, and spirit of a strong, independent, tough woman … yet she wore silk.

“What?” she breathed as he continued to look. She was writhing beneath the weight of him pinning her thighs. “A girl can’t have nice things?”

She was pushing at him, goading him, but it only added to his pure delight … and ramped up his desire. “I was thinking utilitarian cotton,” he said, “so you’ll have to forgive me.”

“I have plenty of those, too, if they’re more your thing.”

“Oh, these are purely my thing. Exactly my thing. Although if you move like this every time I’m on top of you, it likely willnae much matter what you have covering your most delectable bits.” He levered his weight up and jerked her pants down in one tug. “Because they’re no’ going to be coverin’ much for very long.”

She wriggled beneath him as he slid them off her legs completely, then returned his attentions to the scrap of shimmer she called panties.

A glance up showed she was grinning, even as her neck arched and she pushed her head back into the soft down of the mattress, her eyes tightly shut. “I can live with that,” she managed tightly.

“Good to know,” he said, then ripped the panties off her, too.

He teased her with his tongue, but there were other parts of him begging to be the thing doing the teasing, and he was straining to the fair lengths and breadths of his control.