Page 27 of Scotch & Dreams

Anna's laugh sounded forced. “I huv to go. Speak soon. Bye.”

The line went dead before Lachlan could say another word. He looked at his phone, considering how odd the conversation had been. Anna didn’t like France, didn’t like the New York friends, and didn’t like last-minute changes to plans, so what was that all about? He didn’t mind in the least if she was having a great time and wanted to stay. He certainly wasn’t her keeper, but he did find it strange.

Hearing soft footsteps making the hardwood creak lightly behind him, he turned to see Violet. His heart almost stopped in his chest as she smiled shyly at him. Her cheeks were flushed and rosy, and her eyes were half-lidded and sleepy—bedroom eyes. Seeing she was tired, he had to fight the urge to scoop her up into his arms to cradle her against him and carry her to his bed.

Instead, he smiled gently back at her. “I’m sorry about that.” It struck him how vastly different he felt talking to Anna and the world it pulled him back into versus the world that he'd been in with Violet tonight. God help him, escaping into a realm with just him and Violet was something he could become addicted to.

“It’s okay.” She yawned, sliding the back of her hand over her mouth. “I suspect running your own business means you have to take calls at all hours.”

That was true, although Lachlan had learned to set boundaries regarding work. There was nothing that was life and death when it came to business. It took years, and even though he did work long hours, he had learned to turn off work and make himself unavailable more regularly. Lachlan could have said it wasn't a work call. He could have said—maybe should have said—that it was his girlfriend on the phone. His girlfriend, whom he thought would be back tomorrow afternoon, was now staying in France for who knew how long. Instead of correcting Violet’s assumption that it was a work call, he didn’t say anything and just nodded.

With another yawn, she gathered her long blond hair and pulled it over one shoulder, he noticed it was a habit she had. One he liked as it exposed her delicate, kissable neck. Lachlan felt his cock stir and swallowed. Her eyes caught his, and something passed between them.

Lachlan’s breathing shallowed as the lass stepped closer to him. She was tall, probably around five-foot-eight, but he still towered over her at six-foot-four. Part of him knew he should move away. The situation felt dangerous, but his body refused to move. Instead it thrummed with anticipation. His eyes focused on the beautiful lass before him.

She reached up, touched his jaw with the open palm of her hand, and allowed her fingers to graze his evening stubble. He held back a groan. He stood stone still as she touched his face. Her gorgeous eyes looked at him as if he fascinated her, and lord help him, he liked it. He couldn't fathom anything better than being the object of this woman's intrigue.

Her slender fingers slid higher up his jaw, scraping into his hair. He closed his eyes, barely able to breathe as his head followed the hypnotic stroke of her hand. He felt suspended in time, utterly lost to the sensations rocking his body under her simple touch.

And when he opened his eyes again, she was looking up with her desire laid bare in her green eyes. Her lips were slightly parted, ready for him, begging to be kissed, and he knew he’d gladly go to hell for just one taste of those peaked, heart-shaped lips.

When her hand slid to the back of his neck and she raised on her tiptoes simultaneously pulling his mouth to hers while tilting her chin up until their mouths collided, fuck, he was a goner. The second their lips touched, desire like he’d never known tore at him relentlessly. It was torture. He wanted her but warred with himself because he knew he shouldn’t.

Those lips that he'd watched sipping and tasting his whisky, tempting him all night. Smoky whisky mingling with the strawberry sweetness on her breath was an aphrodisiac.

Her cupid lips pressed tentatively against his and then greedily snatched around his top lip before her tongue slipped against his bottom lip. A snap of electricity tore straight down to his cock, thickening it to painfully tight proportions in his trousers.

She kissed him thoroughly, and he just let her. Her wet tongue slid across his lips for a second time, effortlessly snuffing out the moral code he’d always lived by. The walls of a gentleman crumbled, and he felt a tumult of emotions.

He wanted to punish her for making him so fucking horny. He wanted to grab that pretty creamy neck and squeeze while he shoved his tongue into every crevice of that sweet, torturous mouth. But instead, he held himself still, allowing the warmth and softness of her fucking glorious mouth to do as it pleased with his.

He didn’t kiss her back, but he didn’t stop her either. Even in his half haze, he hated himself for not being a better man. When her breasts tentatively poked his chest, he felt pre-come squeeze out of his hungry cock. Christ, it was like he was an untried lad. If he so much as felt her body slide against his dick, there was no doubt in his mind he’d be jizzing fully fucking clothed. He could take her right now in his fucking hallway. He could tear down her jeans, rip off her panties, free his hard cock, and slide right into her.

God, what in the hell was he thinking? No. No. He needed to stop this. But before he found the will to stop the madness, Violet pulled away from him and searched his eyes. Her golden brows were pinched together in concern.

“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that," she said, stepping further away.

He knew damn well what she was thinking. He hadn’t kissed her back. Her slender arms crossed self-consciously over her chest, and she looked decidedly uncomfortable.

She thinks I don't want her.God, nothing could be further from the truth. He wanted her in a way that defied logic. Had he ever craved a woman like this before? His need to taste every square inch of Violet Munro bordered on insanity, but he couldn’t tell her that. Instead, he just stood there, shell-shocked by a sweet torturous hunger he’d never known before.

It didn’t matter how intense his need was. Lachlan was in a relationship with Anna. Whether he wished to be or not, he was in it, and nothing could happen with Violet. Fuck, he was the worst kind of arsehole lusting after another and letting her kiss him. It was disrespectful to both women, and he knew it. Yet, still, his cock was stiffer than the starched collar around his neck.

"I— Shoot. I'm an idiot. I'm so sorry. Maybe I should leave. I didn't mean for this— I'm sorry."

She was fumbling her words, and finally, Lachlan's brain kicked in. "Careful, V. Yer Canadian-ness is shining through again," he said, attempting to lighten the situation.

Fortunately, it worked. She looked up at him and laughed that throaty laugh that hit him square in the groin every time. He ran a hand through his hair and smiled. "Ye cannae leave. I have the doctor’s orders, and I'll not renege on our arrangement."

She grew serious again. "I understand, though. If you want to," she said softly. "I'm sure I'm fine now. I don't want to be a bother to you."

"V." He took her hands in his, holding them up between them as he gently squeezed them and looked at her over their joined hands. "I want ye to stay. I promise ye, ye are no' a bother." He wanted to tell her she was perfect as she looked up at him, but he held that back. She still didn't look totally convinced as she stifled a yawn. The poor lass was likely exhausted, and as much as she might feel fine, he still felt like it was important to keep an eye on her as per the doctor’s orders. He'd rather play it safe. Sally plodded down the hall and sat at Lachlan's feet.

"Must be eleven, " Lachlan said, looking down at Sally, who was quivering with eager anticipation. "Ye go on up and get ready for bed. I left your bag beside the bed. I just have to let Sally out."

"You're sure?" Violet still sounded skeptical.

"Aye, lass, verra sure."

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