Torture!
“Get some coffee, love, while Blake puts on some clothes. Ye two are going into town for donuts,” Kenna told him.
Dair looked to her then to me, and I skedaddled out of the breakfast nook so I could get dressed.
“Travel mugs are up there, honey,” I said to Dair, pointing to a cupboard as I moved. “Pour mine in one, would you?”
I didn’t wait for his response.
And I didn’t get up the first stair on the staircase.
A strong arm hooked around my belly, I was pulled back into a hard body, then turned in his arm.
I looked up at Dair, “What on?—?”
“Honey?” he growled.
I blinked, not understanding his growl or the intense expression on his face.
He called me endearments all the time. Lass, lassie, babe, love and hen were used frequently by Scottish people, but darling and baby, which he liberally sprinkled about when he spoke to me, were not.
Was he upset I said that in front of his mum?
I mean, honey wasn’t pookie or love of my life or anything silly or weird and too soon.
Suddenly, his long fingers were fisted in the back of my hair and his face was a breath from mine.
All oxygen left me.
“Dair,” I whispered.
“I like that,” he grunted.
Oh.
Wow.
Good!
“Okay.” I kept whispering.
“Do it more often,” he ordered.
I blinked again because…
He couldn’t be believed!
“You can’t boss me into calling you sweet nothings,” I informed him.
“Funny, just did, and you’ll be doing it.”
“Unbearable!” I declared.
“Still, you like me,” he said on a grin, dipped in, brushed his mouth against mine, then turned me, and with a hand right on my ass, he scooted me up a couple of stairs. “Hurry, love. Now I have a taste for donuts, and I dinnae want a delay.”
I stomped up the stairs, grumbling loud enough for him to hear, “I need to have my head examined when it comes to my taste in men.”
To that, he chuckled and made sure it was loud enough for me to hear.
