Page 94 of Scotch on the Rocks

“You’re a cruel woman, harpy.” That hand went to my waist, halting my first step on the landing, voice curling at my ear. “Turnabout will be fair play once I get you riding me.”

Jesus. I didn’t know how we’d lasted this long. I hadn’t so much as touched a man for almost a year before this thing with Callum and I’d been fine. A littletightly wound, but fine.

Suddenly sex –sex with him– I couldn’t think of anything else.

Slow. I repeated the word to myself. The word that had become akin to a talisman to Callum this week, whenever things progressed just a little too close to the point of no return.

It was his boundary, and I respected it.

“When I’m riding you,Macabe, this little argument will be the furthest thing from your mind. Now shut up before you wake someone.” I unlocked room five, not bothering to flick on the light.

He made it two steps inside. Then stopped. “What’s all this?”

I closed the door behind us, so only the spill of moonlight from the open curtains and the golden warmth of the fairy lights I’d dug out of the Christmas box shone between us. “I thought it was about time I took you on a date.”

I suddenly felt silly, as he quietly tracked my efforts at a romantic gesture, from the neatly made bed to the mound of plaids circled by unlit candles on the floor before the window. Seemingly forgetting the pizza, his arms went limp at his sides and the slices slid across the box with a wet scratch.

He hated it.

“I meant to come up and light the candles but you distracted me,” I said quickly. “And I can grab more blankets if it’s not warm enough.” His throat only bobbed so I kicked off my shoes, stepping onto the soft plaids. “Look, we can do something else if this is terrible—”

“It’s not.” His eyes shone. “I just – I have the stupidest urge to cry.”

My heart thumped, tasting the sweetness of this moment I would return to over and over until the edges began to smudge, when Callum Macabe looked at me as if I were made of starlight. “Then cry.”

Eyes shining, he, nodding to my socked feet burrowing into the blanket. “That’s something I always liked about you, you know.”

“My ability to plan a cheap date?” I waited for him to sit then spread another blanket over our laps.

“No. That one of the first things you do anywhere is take your shoes off.” It was a quirk few people noticed. Alexander always said it was because I could make myself at home anywhere, but I always felt it was the opposite, that it helped curb my desire to run.

Beneath the blanket, Callum tugged my legs over his lap, running a thumb along the arch of my foot again with exquisite pressure. “For a woman who apparently hates nature you’re definitely the bare-feet-in-the-grass type.” He repeated the action, and I couldn’t hold back my moan. “Every time I’d see these black-painted little toes, I had to fight the urge to bite every single one of them.”

“A foot fetish? I didn’t peg you as a deviant.”

“More like a Juniper Ross fetish.” His head tipped, and he nipped at my jaw, nose skimming until it rested at the small birthmark at the base of my neck. “This little mark I only ever got to see when the weather was warm enough for you to wear a strappy little top. Did you never catch me searching for it?” I shook my head. “How about your mouth?” His fingers traced my lips and they tingled as though touched by electricity. “Every time you spoke; ate;smiled; you had me, sweetheart, you had me right in the palm of your hand and I didn’t even try to hide it.”

The confession blew me apart, I needed him to kiss me, needed him under me and – and because he could read me like a book – he went right back to rubbing my feet. Torturing me with every touch.

I flopped back into the cushions.

“Are you going to tell me what’s been going on with you?” My eyes sprang open and he continued, “You were quiet this morning. And last night.”

“Lubing me up with foot rubs is coercion.”

His nose wrinkled. “Please never use the term ‘lubingme up’ out of the house.”

“Too graphic?” I grinned.

“What do you think?” He tugged my foot further into his lap so I could feel just how graphic he found it. “Now tell me.”

I hesitated, biting my lip. “It seems stupid.”

“If it’s upsetting you, it isn’t stupid.”

I blew out a breath, “Fiona hasn’t called in over a week, she always calls.”

His thumbs didn’t stop their ministrations. “Why don’t you phone her?”

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