‘Don’t move,’ he ordered as though he could sense her intention and she raised them again to the wall above her head.
He knelt.
Putting his thumbs in either side of her underwear, he inched them down over her hips. They skimmed her thighs and got caught on her boot, before he freed them and pushed them to the floor.
His face was inches away from her sex. He held her in his hands, and the waiting made him harder. His hands spread across her taut stomach, moved around the curve of her hips, caressed her body until his fingers were drawn closer. Walker traced his thumb downwards until he separated her folds and felt the slick heat of her. Using his fingers, he explored her, rubbing the wetness of her.
‘Walker,’ she said above his head and he couldn’t wait any more. He stood and lifted her in his arms in one movement and laid her on the bed.
‘I want my hands back. . .’ she whispered urgently, straining against the knot, and he pulled the tie undone. Freed, she wound her arms around his neck to return his force with her mouth. He was so hard for her. He pulled back to strip off his shirt and let his kilt drop to the carpet before standing in front of her, watching a small smile of satisfaction flick over her face when she got the answer to her question. Scotsmen wear nothing beneath their kilts. She put her hand out to him, urging him to the bed. He didn’t need asking twice.
His hands claimed her body as it strained against him. Lying beside her on the bed, he turned her onto her side, taking the weight away from her boot. He moved behind her and encircled her with his arms, pressing his chest to her back, kissing the nape of her neck where her short dark hair ended. His hands reached around her to fondle her breasts, her nipples. His dick pressed against her buttocks, and she pushed back against him.
He reached around her hip and found her clitoris. He slipped his knee between hers and held her open as he made sure she was ready for him.
‘Please,’ she said, letting her head roll back onto his shoulder. ‘Please.’ Her begging set him on fire. He pushed two fingers into her and she arched in return. She was ready.
He lifted her legs wider with his knee and his cock nudged against her. He eased into her slowly, stretching his way, a centimetre at a time, until she moaned out loud.
‘Enough?’ Walker asked, grinding his jaw, trying to keep himself under control.
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘More.’ It was all he needed. He thrust into her, right to the hilt.
‘Yes,’ she groaned.
He withdrew, right to the tip, and thrust again, and again, and again. Their bodies rocked with each movement, his front to her back, their breath noisy, their bodies slick with sweat. His hand found her clit again and thumbed her in time to his fucking. She arched and made small, animalistic noises that made him hold her tighter, fuck her harder.
‘Walker, I’m close,’ she said and he lost what was left of his control. He plunged into her, again and again, as he felt the tension build and build, until he heard her cry out, and then he let himself fall into the abyss.
Chapter Thirty-One
Gabi
Later, much later, when her breath had calmed down and her heart had stopped pounding, Gabi noticed the steady patter of rain on the windowpane. It sounded heavier than before. She shifted against Walker, cocooned against his chest.
‘I should go,’ she said into his shoulder, reluctantly.
‘Really? I’ll walk you then,’ he murmured without moving. They lay there together and then a second later he whispered, ‘Or you could stay?’
She paused momentarily. Not wanting to leave, but unsure of the protocol or the ground rules for a holiday hook-up. The room was suddenly bright as lightning flashed outside the window and a second later thunder rolled ominously. Her decision was made easy. She snuggled in.
‘I’ll drop you back in the morning,’ he said. ‘In case the pavements are slippery.’
Gabi laughed quietly. ‘I’m sure I can manage a wet pavement, Walker.’ He didn’t reply but she could bet he was going to drop her off anyway.
‘What’s this?’ he asked then, tracing a silvery scar about an inch long on the back of her arm. She reached round to feel it.
‘Fell off my roller skates,’ she said. ‘Gave myself concussion too. Didn’t have someone like you strapping my helmet on like Riley.’
He dropped his chin to the spot, his stubble scratching lightly at the scar, almost a kiss but not quite.
‘Ah, no. I hope your mum kissed it better?’
‘Mum wasn’t there. She’d left by then.’ She forced a laugh.
‘Where did your mum go?’
‘Paris, first. With her next husband.’
