Page 32 of Scotch & Dreams

Theymadetheirwayback upstairs to Lachlan’s bedroom. Violet had gone into the ensuite to change, and when she came back out, Lachlan was already lying in the bed. A muscular arm was tucked behind his head.

He glanced up at her, and a weary look crossed his features. “Would ye like to borrow some joggers to sleep in? It gets cool at night. I dinnae want ye getting cold.”

“I’ll be fine.” She smiled, crossing over to the other side of the bed. Violet felt certain that he wasn't truly worried she'd be cold. She suspected it had more to do with his earlier reaction to seeing her in her nightshirt. For one thing, she never slept with anything on her legs, so sweatpants, orjoggersas he called them, were not an option. And for two, there was a part of her mind that relished in knowing he was affected by her in her nightshirt. She highly doubted anything was going to happen between them, at least not tonight, but it didn't prevent her from daydreaming.

“Right,” he mumbled, avoiding looking at her.

Lachlan lay stiff as a board on his back, not trusting himself to move in case he felt her naked legs under the blanket. He was far too aware. He didn’t trust himself—not a feeling he was accustomed to. The king-size bed felt absurdly tiny. If he reached out a hand, he could touch her hair. Or if he rolled over slightly, he might smell her soft vanilla scent. Violet seemed to save him some grief as she turned away from him, hiking the covers over the back of her head, cocooning herself in his bedding. He reached up and switched off the bedside lamp.

“Good night, Lachlan. Thanks for everything.” Her voice was gentle and quiet with sleepiness in the dark, and instead of making him want to sleep, it just played tricks on him.

“My pleasure, lass. Good night,” he managed. He stared up at the ceiling as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. An odd sense of disappointment filled him as he realized Violet was going to sleep now. God help him, it was not like he wanted something to happen between them. Of course, he didn't. And yet…

Violet’s breathing steadied. She was asleep. Good for her. He had no idea how he was going to fall asleep. His body was far too aware of her partial nakedness so near to him. He scraped a hand over his jaw and turned to pick up his phone. Flicking on the screen, it showed no new notifications. No good night from Anna.

It was like he needed something to ground him and remind him of his real life and not the fantasy world he seemed to be in with Violet. He needed a solid reminder that he was in a relationship, that he was a gentleman, and that the woman who currently slept beside him wasn't some mythical nymph who could command his every desire.

He put his phone back on the charging station and lay back again with a sigh. Contrary to what he thought he wanted, he actually felt relieved that there was no message from Anna. It struck him that in recent weeks, he'd come to feel—dread was too strong a word—but when his phone dinged, his jaw would clench, and tension would creep through his shoulders. Something wasn't sitting right with him about Anna's reasons for staying in France. It just wasn't adding up. He mulled it over, and after a few minutes, he wondered, could she be having a fling?Possibly,he concluded—and he felt surprisingly indifferent.

Violet stirred, and Lachlan went very still, listening in the darkness. She stretched out. A soft little moan escaped her, and her long slender leg touched his. He felt scorched. His heart pounded so loudly in his chest that he thought the sound might wake her. And then she settled again, the soft skin of her shin barely touching him, but touching him nonetheless. He should move away, but there was no way in hell that he could. Their kiss from earlier swam through his mind, instantly making him hard. He groaned in frustration, warring with himself. He rolled onto his side away from her before he did something he'd regret.

Go to sleep, you horny old bastard, he chided. Clenching his eyes closed, he breathed deeply and tried to clear his mind. His sister Orlagh, the health nut of the family, had exuberantly taught them all about box breathing a few weeks back at dinner. She prattled on something about stimulating the parasympathetic nervous system. Bottom line: box breathing was meant to relax a person, and at this point, he was game to try anything.

Lachlan awoke on his back again and relished how rested he felt. It was the feel of a lazy Saturday morning sleep-in, which was rare for him. Letting out a low grunt as he stretched, he pulled Violet in closer to him. Suddenly, his eyes shot open, awareness splashing over him like a bucket of ice water. Her head lay tucked in the crook of his arm. Her slender arm was splayed across his abdomen. A smooth, soft leg lay casually over his. And her body pressed up against his side.Oh. Sweet. Torture. And to top it all off, he had some serious morning wood.

He didn’t dare move. Lying there, he contemplated what he should do. He glanced at the small round clock on the nightstand. Seven. How had his phone alarm not gone off in the night? He'd intended to check on Violet every ninety minutes to make sure all was well, and instead, he'd slept solidly through the night. Thankfully, the lass slept soundly, but God, what was he to do now? Gently remove her and sneak out of the bed? The thought was hardly appealing. Lord help him, but it felt fan-fucking-tastic to feel her in his arms. The right thing would be to detangle himself. But every fibre in him was refusing to move.

Violet stirred and stretched out her body against his.Oh, mother of fuckin' Mary. And then it happened. As she sleepily stretched, her hand inadvertently pressed down against his rock-hard manhood. As if that wasn’t enough, she proceeded to palm his cock, exploring its shape through his cotton boxers. It was like she was trying to determine what she was touching. Suddenly, she yanked away her hand as if she’d been scalded. To his dismay, her body completely recoiled from him, her eyes shot open, and locked upon his. They squared off.

“Sorry.” She sounded breathless, only heightening his torturous hunger.

He swallowed hard, turning away and swiftly getting out of the bed, needing to calm his desperate cock. This was not cool. What was wrong with him? He feigned looking out the window to shield the relentless hard-on in his pants from her view. He cleared his throat and said over his shoulder, “No worries, lass. Did ye sleep well?”

"I did, actually. Your mattress is so comfortable." She spoke light heartedly as if she hadn't just had her hand on his dick.

“Mmhmm, good, good. Right, well, I’m going to take a shower.” And he quickly turned and strode into the ensuite, avoiding eye contact.

Violet sat back against the pillows, trying to make sense of what had just happened. She was half-asleep, but she knew she'd inadvertently felt up his manhood. A shiver ran through her. She shouldn't go there, but the memory of how thick and hard it felt was etched in her brain. She scrunched her eyes closed. God, the man flew off the bed like he'd been double bounced on a trampoline. Clearly, he was not thrilled with her unintended touchy-feely start to the morning. How embarrassing. She felt pretty certain that he knew it was by accident, but still, he was gentlemanly—and she'd obviously ruffled his sensibilities.

Despite the rocky morning, she still felt like there wassomethingbetween them. Maybe he preferred to take things slowly, which, if she wasn’t so smitten with him, would probably be a great plan. Although, thinking about it, it seemed like there was more to it than that. She wondered how much truth there was to Saint Lachlan, the man who eternally restrained himself.

There were moments in the last twenty-four hours where she was sure he was about to ravish her senseless. The thought of Lachlan losing his gentlemanly control and having his way with her sent a jolt of excitement through her. She didn’t recall a time she’d ever wanted to throw caution to the wind and just go at it, but those few moments Lachlan looked ready to pounce on her, it half scared her and half thrilled her.

But then there were other moments where he seemed completely indifferent to the chemistry that bubbled between them. It left her bemused. Her stomach growled loudly, breaking her reverie. Thankful for a distraction, she pulled on her jeans and the hoody she'd grabbed from the Airbnb and plodded downstairs to see if she could rustle up some breakfast for them.

Chapter 20

Eggs and a Garish Creamer Set

Violet'shungerpropelledherto throw caution to the wind and make herself at home in Lachlan's kitchen. After all, she intended to make breakfast for both of them. She yanked open the fridge, scanning for eggs, but it seemed like he had everything but. She pulled open a cheese drawer and almost drooled at the variety of cheeses there. Where she was from, the cheese variety was slim at best.

He also had a package of prosciutto that caught her eye. She settled on a sharp goat cheddar that was already open, the prosciutto, button mushrooms, fresh spinach, and cherry tomatoes. Even without eggs, she could whip up something with these ingredients.

When she pulled open a cabinet door looking for some type of cooking oil, she was surprised to find a six-pack of eggs.Weird. She opened the carton and peered in at them, wondering if they were safe to eat, then she checked for a date on the packaging. They were well before the best-before date, but who put eggs in the pantry? Her stomach growled loudly as if telling her to just make the damn omelets already. Decision made. She supposed she'd risk a little salmonella poisoning. She was cooking them, so that should kill anything bad,right? Her belly groaned its agreement.

As she let the first omelet cook, she put a couple of slices of bread in the toaster, and soon, the comforting smell of toast permeated the kitchen. She found her thoughts turn to daydreams of idyllic Saturdays with Lachlan, going to the local farmers market, walking hand in hand, and choosing fresh ingredients to cook dinner together.

“Mmm, smells good in here.”

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