“You know, we could move one of the couches over here,” I suggest, taking an appreciative swallow of Macallan.
“And ruin the precise feng shui your designer worked so hard to create?” She chuckles, pulling two pillows off the couch and handing one to me to sit on.
“How do you know I had a designer decorate the house?”
“Please.” She nudges my shoulder with hers. “All organized and proper with the appropriate flow of energy from room to room? Also, Catriona told me. The only two places that are yours are the study and your bedroom. There’s more color there, untidy stacks of books, and that godawful office chair with the split leather seat? That must have killed her inside every time she passed it.”
“It was a he, actually,” I correct her. “Giles.JustGiles, as he clarified the only time I met him. The house was finished just a week before I went on the mission.”
“Well, that’s a bummer,” she says, leaning back on one hand. “You had this beautiful place and never got to enjoy it?”
The soft yellows of the streetlights drift across her face, highlighting the flecks of gold in her blue eyes. Luna, my Luna, is as beautiful as the night sky, though I know she refuses to believe it.
“I enjoy it more now,” I say, pushing back a strand of her hair. “What do you see when you imagine your dream home?”
She snorts. “Please. I lived in a modified tool shed in Mrs. Geller’s backyard. My standards are pretty low.”
Swiveling to face her, I drape her legs over mine. “Think about it now. What would be your perfect home? The sky’s the limit.”
The uncertainty on Luna’s face makes my black, withered heart throb a bit. She’s never let herself think beyond day-to-day survival, but she managed to make her way to Europe, and that tells me she’s holding some dreams and ambition in that clever mind of hers.
“Well…” Her fingers come up to play with the buttons on my shirt. “I read a book once where the heroine had a house by the ocean. Not one of those modern monstrosities that are all hard angles and glass. An old stone house with two turrets and gothic-style windows, you know, the ones that are pointy on top, like at the cathedral tonight?”
Nodding, I slowly run my hands up and down her thighs. Her face is lit up, not from the lights outside, but from within, and feck, she’s incandescent.
“Gothic, that’s the style. And giant fireplaces,” she continues dreamily, “an herb garden in a little greenhouse off the kitchen. The master bedroom is at the top of one of the turrets, just big enough for a giant bed with built-in window seats and bookcases so you could read and look out at the ocean.”
For a moment, I can see the house with her, something strong enough to stand against the winds that howl and the waves that beat against the Scottish shores.
“That’s silly, though,” she says, shaking her head briskly. “It’s just a book.”
My arms slide around her back, holding her as I lower her to the floor, pulling the straps down on her dress and kissing each bit of skin they reveal. She lets out a sigh as I kiss the silky skin between the swell of her breasts, peeling her dress away until she’s lying there in her simple black bra.
Running a finger from the hollow of her throat to her belly button, I lean in, covering her mouth with mine, the electricity between us like a lightning strike. She grabs my face with both hands, holding on like she thinks I’d pull away, groaning in pleasure as I suck her tongue into my mouth. My fingers sink into her thick hair, gripping it while my other hand pulls her bra loose, running my thumb over her taut nipples.
Nothing has ever felt this good, this strong, and right. We fit together, my hard angles and her soft curves and I pull away as she whines, chasing my lips with hers until I suck her breast into my mouth, tugging on the nipple with my teeth.
“More,” she groans.
The last of my self-control snaps, I’m no longer tethered to sanity, and all I can think of is getting inside this woman as fast as possible.
“I dinna think I can be gentle,” I groan, my forehead resting between her breasts as I yank my zipper down, pulling my cock loose from my pants.
“You don’t need to be,” Luna gasps. “Show me who you are.” I rip away her knickers, and shove myself inside her in one stroke. She shrieks, and I freeze. Shite. I’ve hurt her. Her knees come up, gripping my hips and she digs her heels into my ass. “More,” she moans, “more more more more, please.”
“The heat of you,” I groan, pulling out and viciously thrusting back inside her. “You’re fire inside, little fox. Heat and silk and slick andfuuuuck…I could live inside you, just like this, forever.”
Her cheeks are flushed a pretty pink, and the color spreads to her neck and chest. I’m pounding into her so hard that I’m pushing her across the wood floor, and she laughs wildly. “So good, you gorgeous man, this is so g-” Her pussy clamps down on my cock, locking me inside her as she comes, back arched and nails digging into my arms.
Pushing my thumb between us, I circle her clit lightly, then pressing down hard. “Come again,mo shionnach beag milis,my sweet little fox. Come again for me.”
Like the wee animal she is, Luna bites into my shoulder, a scream escaping between her teeth and my skin as she finds her good end, and I throw back my head, roaring, howling like we’re back in the forest as I come with her.
Chapter Thirty-Two
In which why are there so many guns?
Luna…
