He doesn’t get any further than that before I cover his mouth with mine. His moan of surprise turns to one of pleasure as I kiss him hard and deep, wrapping myself around him. “Take me to bed?” It comes out sounding uncertain. We’ve been apart for nearly four painfully long months. As much as I want answers, I want him naked and inside me more.
He hoists me up like he did our first night together and carries me to my room. I busy myself covering every inch of his face and neck in kisses, making a low laugh rumble through him. He deposits me on the bed and stands in front of me, planting his hands on his hips.
“Giving me another minute to admire you?” I ask. His lips twitch. “Because I’m not opposed. Feel free to use this space as a catwalk, do a little turn, whatever you like.” I wriggle back on the bed and cross my legs, watching him.
“Very funny.” God, I’ve missed his voice. And his face. Phone calls and occasionally seeing him on a small screen don’t do him justice. He’s meant to be enjoyed live and in color. “D’you know what kilts are made of, love?”
I tilt my head, examining the material. “I’ve never given it much thought. I haven’t seen one in person before. Although I was watching the special features on theOutlanderDVD one day and it showed how they put them on.”
“Lie on the ground and roll into it?” he asks and I nod. “This is a modern kilt. Basically a long strip of material that folds over on either side and is belted in place. Thing is, said material is wool.”
“Gah!” I inch further onto the bed, away from him.
“Exactly.”
“I guess you’ll just have to do a strip tease for me,” I say in an airy voice. “Should I put on some music?”
“It appears you’ve gotten even sassier since I left.” As he speaks, he begins undoing the buttons on his vest. “I like it.” I smile vaguely, falling silent as I watch him. He hasn’t even bared an inch of skin yet, but I’m hypnotized. He unclips his tie and removes it, then works the buttons on his shirtsleeves. “No snappy comeback?”
I push myself to my knees and motion him forward. His hands have moved to the top button of his shirt, and I brush them aside. “I’ve always loved doing this part.” I slip each button free, kissing his chest as I go. When I free the last button, he pulls his shirttails from the kilt. I run my hands over his chest and stomach, my fingers lingering where the kilt meets his belly button. “Okay. Carry on.” I flop back on the bed, resuming my cross-legged position.
He removes his shoes and socks first. The sight of him in nothing but the kilt nearly takes my breath away. I remember the first time I ever saw a man in a kilt on TV; I was a kid and I thought it was hilarious that a man was wearing a skirt. Since then, I’ve learned about the symbolism and meaning, and I have to admit watchingOutlanderhas definitely brought me around to the side of kilt lovers. But those Highlanders have nothing on mine.
He undoes the first set of buckles and part of the material falls away. He meets my eyes as he reaches for the fastener on the other side. I bite my lip to hold back a smile; it feels like he’s unwrapping a present.
Oh yeah, this is like Christmas morning and my birthday and every other holiday all combined into one, because when the last buckle is freed and the material falls away, I finally learn what’s under the kilt: nothing.
Hugh carefully drapes the kilt over the chair behind him. He turns back, and then it’s on. I’m up on my knees again by the time he reaches the edge of the bed. My clothes seem to disappear in the blink of an eye. I barely process him scrambling in my bedside drawer for a condom before we fall to the mattress together, a tangle of limbs, roaming hands, and hungry mouths. Hugh growls when he finds me wet and ready, and his fingers drive me to a blinding orgasm with lightning speed.
I’m still gasping for breath when I grip his shoulders and flip him onto his back. He looks up at me with wide eyes and a wider smile. I bend to kiss him as I straddle him, letting my hair fall over his chest and shoulders. His fingers tangle in the strands until his palm finds the back of my neck and starts massaging. My own hands glide over his chest, playing with his nipples until he gasps and moans in that way that seems completely, wonderfully involuntary. The power could easily go to my head.
My hand snakes down further, finding its target. I wrap my fingers around him, moving them from tip to root and repeating the process until he’s bucking against me.
“Ivy,” he growls, his voice holding a hint of warning.
Part of me wants to prolong this. But the other part of me, the part powered mostly by the throbbing ache in my core, wants the connection that comes only from one thing. Taking the condom from where he dropped it on the bed, I sheath him. I position myself over him and guide him inside me, my muscles shaking with restraint as I slowly slide down his length until our bodies meet.
We sigh in unison. My eyes slip closed, then open again to find Hugh watching me with a look that makes me want to cry. Desire, yes, but also adoration and admiration. I swoop down to press my mouth to his. He grips my hips and lets me take the lead, sliding up and down his length at my pace, rocking forward with each thrust so my clit gets the attention it needs. Time ceases to exist as our bodies move together.
My hips jerk, moving faster. He chokes out my name and pulls me forward, his fingers moving to my center as he drives into me, taking over. It’s only moments before we’re both coming, our bodies locked, gasped breaths mingling as our mouths meet again.
I collapse on top of him. His hands slide over my back and hips, covering every inch before his arms close around me. “God, I missed you,” he says, his breath tickling my ear.
I close my eyes tightly, burying my face in his neck and murmuring, “I missed you too. So much.” I free myself from his hold and move off him, rolling right to the end of the bed and standing. “You must be exhausted after a long day of traveling.”
One side of his mouth quirks. “I don’t think I’m too tired for whatever you have in mind.”
*****
An hour and several orgasms later, I’m wrapped in my housecoat and Hugh is wearing a pair of sweatpants he forgot here before he left for Scotland. I carry two cups of steaming, fragrant tea to the living room. The second I’ve set them on the table, Hugh pulls me into his lap, his arms enfolding me and his lips finding my throat.
“I brought you some shortbread from Scotland,” he says, nipping at my shoulder. “That, and a few other things I hope you’ll like.”
“I’ve already got my favorite thing from Scotland right here,” I tell him. “But you know I never turn down cookies or presents.”
His laugh ruffles my hair.
I reluctantly pry myself away from him and move off his lap to see him better. I pick up my cup of tea so I won’t be tempted to launch myself at him. Again. “I have so many questions, I don’t know where to begin. I guess I’ll start with the one I want answered least: when are you going back to Scotland?”
