‘That material isn’t the boyfriend kind.’
She nods her understanding, and I feel the loss of her fingers almost immediately; though as she stares up at me, my head is filled with a million things.
Is she trembling?
Can she tell I am?
Her hair would be soft in my hand.
I bet she’d taste as good as she looks.
‘Are you staying in the hotel tonight?’ Her long, black lashes blink up at me.
Christ.In suggesting my kilt isn’t boyfriend material, I’ve somehow managed to imply I’m down to fuck. But that doesn’t answer why my heart is beating out of my chest. Or why I want more than anything else to say yes.
Chapter 6
PAISLEY
I might have been avoiding Robin’s gaze since my interaction with Keir began, but currently, he couldn’t be further from my mind as I nervously chew on the inside of my mouth, willing him to reply. Am I reading him wrong? Wishful thinking? Drunk on half a bottle of champagne?
Would you like to come up to my room?I may as well have said. Or more truthful still would be,Do you like me enough to fuck me?
It’s almost like actual question is hanging in the air between us. And it’s been like eleven million minutes since I’d asked it. If he doesn’t speak soon, I’m going to start babbling. Or bawling. Or both.
‘Seriously, though? What is this material?’
I go to touch his kilt again—the man is wearing an honest to goodness kilt in a look that’s sort of rugged and manly. That’s not to say he didn’t look good in the coffee shop—because he did. But that was a more handsomely urbane look.Like David Gandy in Dolce Gabbana.But how he looks tonight? Off the charts hot.
The black boots he wears with thick wrinkled socks give his outfit a manly look, the open neck of his shirt revealing a strong, tan cording of muscles on either side of his neck. His shirt stretches across his broad shoulders and muscular arms, a watch with a dark leather strap banded against one strong wrist. He has such big... hands. And feet. But I’m not letting my mind connect those things. Big feet really only guarantee one thing.
Big shoes.
But wow, he is handsome. His eyes look dark in this light; his hair cut short.Maybe because it has a tendency to curl. It looks that way.He’s just sort of golden in the candlelight.
‘I’ve always wondered what’s under one of these things.’ Filling the silence, I reach my finger out to brush the soft material again.
‘If you get any closer,’ he says, his right hand catching mine, ‘you’ll find out.’
‘Oh.’
‘Aye, oh indeed.’ He’s smiling. Swallowing. Tightening his fingers on mine. ‘And while it’d be easy to answer yes to your question, I really can’t.’
‘But... ’ But I was already imagining it. His hard body against mine, strong arms holding me tight. ‘But I only asked if you were staying in the hotel tonight.’
‘That’s what your mouth said. Your eyes said otherwise.’
My heart sinks like a stone in a jug of cheap bubbly.
I suddenly want the floor to open up and swallow me whole. I want to tip my head to the sky and ask the heavens why. What did I do to deserve this kind of shitty evening? Has tonight not been humiliating enough? Have I not been humiliated enough these past months? Instead, I find myself looking at my toes. Briefly anyway, as one of his thick fingers tilts my chin.
‘It’s not because I don’t want to.’ His voice sounds husky. Strained. ‘It’s just not a good idea.’
‘Are you with someone?’ I ask softly. I’d already checked for a ring—and didn’t he start the whole flirting thing? Maybe even back in the coffee shop because what kind of man in a relationship doesn’t correct someone’s pornified mistake? A flirting one!
‘Not that it matters, but no.’
Oh. Well. That still makes no sense. And though his expression is almost regretful, I don’t need his apology, and I sure as heck don’t need his pity.
