“Not yet.” I stomped a foot. Nothing scatted. I rifled through the kitchen. “Find another phone?”
“Okay. Would Kieran lock it?” Natasha asked, heaving a sigh.
“With his mam’s birthday. She’s gone; he struggles.”
Warmth softened her features. Natasha hooked a thumb. “See what I can find.”
The fridge reeked like something had died twice.
I checked the cupboard for more than just the chips we’d scored from the car. I found a package of rice and a pot and started to cook it. While waiting, I checked my phone. Still dead.
Natasha strolled into the room, gripping a Glock. “Found this under the mattress.” She strode over, placed it into my hands,and removed the other man’s cellphone from her pocket. “I’ll try some other combos.”
As I pushed the Glock into my belt, I wanted her to see me. Not just connect eyes because of her sorrow for Kieran’s mam.
Man, she didn’t even lift her gaze while we shared the chips. We stood around as she muttered how Lorenzo’s dad took her father’s belt in the cage. Before a much-anticipated rematch, Gotti lost the belt to another UFC fighter, and Vassili snatched it back. She was right. Lorenzo’s obsession was confusing. But he was off his head, so the backstory? Totally inconsequential.
After the rice finished, I poured it into bowls. “No forks, spoons.” I glared at the steam furrowing from the bowls, still hungry.
“Luckily, we had appetizers. Are we gonna sit, Lach? Don’t think I didn’t see you use some of the whiskey in that flask to wipe the coffee mugs before you filled them.”
She sipped from her cup; her nose furrowed at the heat probably building in her chest. I knocked my mug back, finished it in one gulp.
Natasha sipped hers again, then stepped to me. Her eyes hooded and lips parted just so. I shoved my good hand into the pocket of my jeans for more reasons than one. “We can sit, Tash.”
She took my other hand, smiling.
“Now that my stomach’s not growling, I have an idea to pass the time, so the rice doesn’t give our fingers second-degree burns. By the way, my cellphone is in the rest of the uncooked rice. I hope it works.”As if this is what I wanted to mention.
“Me too.” Her smile was faint.
I groaned. “Natasha, you’re too good for this place. Too good to run around the Highlands. Too good for me to touch you with”—I lifted my bandaged hand—“this! I don’t deserve to touch you. I’m supposed to be putting the finishing touches onyour birthday in two weeks.”Which included the proposal of the century.“But we’re here. In this … hellhole!”
Her eyes softened, and a fire lit behind them. “I causedthis, Lachlan!”
“No. Lorenzo did.”
“Well, I’m frustrated. I only want one thing, and you’re standing in the way.” Desire and aggression, twin flames danced in her eyes. “I want to fill myself up with you, Lach. Not shame or anger.You.” Her hands slid into my hair, pulling me down until her mouth found mine.
The kiss wasn’t sweet—it consumed. Full of every negative experience we’d survived.
My breath hitched against hers. “I can’t do this. Keep kissing you like this, Tash.”
She pressed her lips against mine in another hard kiss, nipping my bottom lip. “Will you help me forget? The frustrations? Just focus on us?”
“You wanted to get married first, Tash,” I rasped.
“Okay,” she whispered, eyes searching mine. “Right here, right now. God is here. He’s everywhere. Heck … half of my lineage’s backstory included marriages that stayed between them and God because of slavery. So … marry me, Lachlan MacKenzie.”
Her words hit me in a place I’d ignored for years. I grasped her hand and slid out a bent coin from my pocket with my good hand. I placed it onto her palm. My makeshift ring. We said the words, voices low, but certain. It wasn’t a chapel. It was better. It was ours.
And when I kissed her again, it was slow. Reverent. My hands, both of them, wounds and all, cradled her face, like she was the most breakable, precious possession I’d ever held. We sank onto the couch, her breath warm against my neck. Her lips traveled my jaw as if she wanted the torture of having to comeslowly back to my lips. The warmth of her mouth, touching everywhere but my own, sent a shiver down my spine.
I kissed her temple, lingering. No rush. Then lower, tracing the path of her cheekbone until my lips brushed the corner of her mouth.
Remembering all she’d gone through, I murmured, “Tell me if I go too fast.”
“You won’t,” she whispered, her breath feathering my lips. “Not with me. That’s why I trust and love you, Lach.”
