“Fair enough,” I sigh. I find the suitcase with my borrowed wardrobe and change into a soft little tank top and pajama pants in the bathroom, which is beautifully tiled in blue with copper fixtures. I could spend the rest of the night playing with all theshower heads and handles in the enormous shower, but I put down my tooth brush with a sigh and head back to the bedroom.
By the time I emerge, he’s made a nice blaze in the bedroom fireplace, and it feels wonderful. I know it’s late spring everywhere else, but Scotland seems to stubbornly hold its chill, regardless of the season.
Ethan’s already in bed, wearing nothing but thin sleeping pants. The sane part of me wants him to put on a shirt, but the other 83% of me feels that covering up his perfectly sculpted musculature would be a crime against nature. I settle on the other side of the bed, happy that I’m finally well enough to be free of my IV and oxygen.
Looking over, I can see he’s trying to contain his amusement. “If ya scoot over any close to the edge, you’re gonna fall right off.”
“I’m fine.”
His hand settles on my forehead and he frowns. “You’re still too warm.”
“This fever does not want to go away,” I sigh.
This admission is a mistake.
“I do know a way to break a stubborn fever,” he says confidently.
“Why do I feel like I should leap from this bed and run screaming into the night?”
With a move almost too fast to track, he rolls and hovers over me, keeping his weight off me by bracing his forearms on either side of my head. This close, I can see the gold speckles in his dark brown eyes, the fine lines around his mouth when he smiles. “It is a well-known remedy to break a stubborn fever.”
“Why do I get the feeling that this is blatantly sexual?”
“Oh, it is,” he agrees with absolutely no shame. “But that doesn’t mean it won’t work.”
I should heave him off me. There should be a stern lecture about taking advantage of a sick woman. I should grab my pillow and stalk off into the living room to sleep on the couch.
I do none of those things. Instead, the vision of getting myself off on his muscled thigh when we were lost in the mountains takes over and almost instantly, I’m wet. Then, the additional mental slideshow of how he made me come three times after he’d bought me at Club Vice deflates my reservations faster than a badly made souffle in a too-hot oven.
“Let me make ya feel good, lass,” he says, running the tip of his nose down my throat, placing a kiss there. “Just for tonight.”
“Just for tonight?” I whisper. “This doesn’t mean anything else. Just… for my fever?”
His thick lips twitch. “Aye, for your fever.” He takes advantage of my hesitation, kissing the top of one breast and then the other as he pulls down my tank top.
Am I doing this? With the Scottish Demon?
It’s so confusing. I’ve heard the stories about what he’s done, the horrors he’s committed. But this is the same man who saved me in the wilderness, protected me in a shootout (and explosions and whatever else those Irish guys had planned) and nursed me back to health. Can he really be both, the Scottish Demon and Ethan MacTavish?
My conflicted self missed the part where he’d managed to pull down my sleep pants and he’s leaning back, spreading my legs and groaning.
“So fecking perfect, baby. You’re so beautiful, sweet as candy.”
I’ve been unwillingly attracted and intrigued by Ethan’s thick, sensuous lips from the first time I’d seen him at Club Vice. How he’d smile with the slightest, most carnal little smirk, or absently lick them while thinking. But I was not prepared when he launched the formidable assault of lips, tongue, and teeth against my bare and defenseless center. Licking a broad stripe up the middle of the slim furrow between my legs, he gives a very deep and satisfying groan.
“So perfect, baby. So fucking perfect.” He dove in again, his stubbled chin digging gleefully into the opening of my passage and itching in the most filthy, delightfully carnal way. I’m balancing on my elbows on the bed, body straight and held aloft by his hands gripping my ass and holding my pussy against his mouth as I squeal and try to move away from the intensity of his lips fastening around my clitoris and suckling, groaning again. The sound vibrates from his throat through my suddenly oversensitive center and right up my spine. The sheer intensity of it makes my thighs clamp against his cheeks and I can feel his grin against the thin skin there.
“God, I just wanna be inside ya,” he groans. “My mouth. My fingers. My cock.” As if to prove his point, he slides a thick finger inside me. He blows lightly on my soaked center, his breath cool, and the gentle chill of it against my wildly overheated girl parts is incredible.
There’s another muffled chuckle and I look down to see his face is nearly buried between my thighs. “Oh, I’m sorry!” I gasp, trying to loosen the vice-like grip my inner thighs have on his head, but he briskly shakes his head andgrowls,like a dog worrying at a beloved toy. That, along with another rough finger slipping inside me as his plush lips pull against my clitoris again sends me off, back arching, head flopping backward, and lookingvaguely at the flickering fireplace upside down as I detonate. The swirling heat of his tongue against my center prolongs my orgasm to an almost alarming amount of time until I push my heels weakly against his broad back.
Finally coming up for air, Ethan gleefully makes a show of wiping his mouth, lips and chin, still glistening with my slick. “I knew you’d taste that way. Like raspberries, warm off the stem, ya do.”
“P- P- poetic,” I wheeze, “you smooth bastard.”
He chuckles, pulling up my sleep pants again. “I’m thinking your fever’s broken, baby. You’re welcome.”
“You are so…” I’m almost asleep and I put my hand on his warm chest and remember my manners. “Thank you.” I’m asleep before he has a chance to answer me.
