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When I agreed to go with Maw, Da, and Jamie, I didn’t know Iona was going to be home this weekend. After learning she was, I couldn’t think of any good reason to pull out, other than faking a last-minute illness. Anyway, I’m hardly going to go through to Inverness to hang out with some rugby guys when Iona is right here in Bannock.

With the coast clear around the front door, I shoot off a message to Iona, telling her to come over now. A minute later, she’s here—and soaking wet.

“It’s awful out there!” She gives me a quick kiss on the lips—dangerous, considering the others could stroll into reception at any moment. “Even just running across the road, I got drenched. Is your da really okay driving to Inverness in this?”

“Shh! We’ll chat in a minute.” I take her hand and tug her towards the stairs—in a rush because I don’t want to get caught but also because I last saw Iona a month ago and I’m desperate to be alone with her. There was a joint McIntyre and Stewart family lunch earlier, and, as always, it was torture spending time with Iona without being able to touch her.

I don’t speak again until we’re up one floor and I’m leading Iona along the corridor to my room. “Da will be fine. He’s forever saying to guests that, in Scotland, if you cancelled your plans on account of the weather, you’d never do anything.”

At my door, I release Iona’s hand to get my key.

“I love you in joggers,” she whispers as I open up. “They’re so soft, and I can feel everything through them.” She gives my arse a playful squeeze.

I grin at her then we head in. She removes her waterproof jacket, revealing a light-blue sweater dress that clings to her every curve. Fuck, she looks good. Maybe I should have made more of an effort and put on jeans and a shirt. Then again, she doesn’t seem to be objecting to my joggies. In fact, her gaze is fixed on them right now.

“Lewis, are you already getting hard?”

I glance down. “Aw, shit. Aye.”

Her eyes gleam with mischief. “Another reason I like you in joggers: they don’t hide anything. At all.” She points. “Is this just from the arse squeeze?”

“Well, that, and the fact that I’ve been frustrated all day. It isn’t easy having lunch with you without being able to touch you, you know.” I shift my weight from foot to foot. “I reckon my body knows what’s coming, so it’s getting ready for action.”

She throws her head back and laughs. “But what if your body has it wrong and all that’s coming is a hug and a long chat? Maybe that’s all I’m in the mood for tonight?”

I scratch my neck. “Aye, well . . . in that case, we can just hug, I suppose.” I’m sure she’s teasing me—she loves to torment me when she knows how worked up and desperate I am—but I play along. “So long as you’re okay with my cock jabbing you while we hug, of course. There’s nothing I can do about that—the thing has a mind of its own.”

Giggling, she draws me into her arms, holding me tight, her tits pressing against my chest. Her hands slowly slide down my back to my arse, which she squeezes again, both cheeks this time, then she pulls me closer to her, pinning my cock snugly between us. She rests her head on my shoulder and lets out a long exhale, her breath hot on my neck. Then she moves her hips against me, creating a friction that sets my blood on fire.

“So . . . what do you want to talk about?” she asks.

“Talk?” I croak, struggling to latch onto a coherent thought amidst the torrent of sensations. “Er . . . oh, shit, there is something we need to talk about. Something serious.”

It’s the last thing I want to do, but with a monumental effort, I peel myself away from Iona’s deliciously warm embrace.

“Er . . .” I gently slap my cheeks with both hands. “Crap, we probably shouldn’t be chatting about this while I’ve got a boner. Could you be a bit less irresistible for a few minutes?

“Sorry, this is just how I am.” She gestures to herself. “I’m hot as hell and I can’t hide it.”

I chuckle. “Aye, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. All right, we’ll just have to ignore the bulge in my joggies. Here’s what’s up: I was chatting to Maw earlier, and she was pestering me with all these questions about you and me. As usual, I denied everything, but then she tripped me up and . . . well, long story short, she now knows what’s going on between us—and she’s going to talk with your maw tomorrow.” I wince. “I’m sorry. Are you pissed off with me?”

“Oh, Lewis.” Solemnly she shakes her head, her eyes locked on mine. “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. What have you done?” A smile creeps onto her lips. “God, you actually look worried. I’m teasing you, Lewis—it’s fine. To be honest, it’s probably long past time we told our families. This isn’t the best moment to say this, what with your whole tenting situation, but this is about more than just sex for me. Don’t go getting cocky, but . . . I do kind of like you. What I mean to say is, you’re not bad—as boys go.”

I puff out my chest. “Just as well you warned me not to get cocky—I’m feeling pretty smug right now, but I’ll try my best to rein it in. You ‘kind of’ like me—nice. For my part, you’ve been my best friend my whole life, and these last few years you’ve been something more—much more. I’m sure there’s a word out there that describes how I feel, but I can’t think what it is at the moment.”

She tilts her head slightly and bites the corner of her lips. “Well, you obviously need to mull it over. Maybe another hug will get those gears whirring again.” She steps towards me, but instead of wrapping her arms around me, she lays her hands on my chest and guides me to my bed then shoves me down onto it.

“Perhaps a little more skin contact could help too.” She tugs her dress over her head and slides down her leggings.

I take in her pale-blue lace bra with matching panties—the same colour as the dress she just discarded—and my breath catches in my throat. Her nipples press against the delicate fabric, entrancing me, while her panties cling to her hips perfectly.

“Fuck.” I lick my lips. “I’ve never seen these before. When did you get them?”

“Yesterday, as a wee treat for you. Don’t go getting used to this kind of thing—my student loan isn’t meant for lingerie. But as a one-off, I thought, Why not?”

“Any time you want to shop for this stuff, let me know and I’ll transfer you money. I can’t think of any way I’d rather spend it.”

My mind is a whirlwind of desires. I want to reach out and cup her tits, to feel that lace beneath my fingers and tease those hard nipples. But another part of me is desperate to press my hand to her pussy—to feel her warmth then trace the outline of her folds with my fingertips, checking to see how wet she is for me. Then again, the sight of her in these scanty pieces is almost more than I can handle. As much as I love how she looks, I’ve this overwhelming urge to strip her completely bare.