Page 44 of Quinn, By Design

Kate played the perfect hostess. “Dessert or coffee, anyone?”

Hunter’s expression was inscrutable. Then he sent Niall a glance Niall could only call pitying, as if to say “You poor sod, you’ve got no idea what you’re risking or what you’re prepared to lose.”

Damn you, I know exactly what’s at stake. And I’ll take Lucy’s peace of mind over a Rolex any day.

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Niall pulled into thedriveway of Hopetoun Cottage, a name cementing the McTavish family to its Scottish origins. Although Cam had assured him Hopetoun House outside Edinburgh was a grander residence. The last time Niall had parked here, Cam had still been alive.

She’ll need a distraction. The phrase was on permanent rotation in Niall’s head.

Niall hadn’t known her then. He’d imagined her as some dutiful granddaughter dedicated to the family business. Now he knew she was self-contained, uncertain about her welcome, courageous in dealing with her past, protective of her friends, and sexy as hell.

Niall didn’t need a distraction.

She’d distracted him anyway. Her praise for his work was a balm to his bruised ego. Seeing her fingers on his cradle made him want to spend decades exploring the language of touch with her.

“Would you like to come in?” Her formal invitation shattered the humming quiet between them. “For coffee?”

“Finishing what we started earlier has more appeal.” Niall flicked on the truck’s inside light and swung to face her. He’d kept his hands to himself on the drive because making out in the back of a ute wasn’t how he wanted to make love to her for the first time. Maybe she thought he’d lost interest. “But I’ll understand if you’ve changed your mind.” Understand, but be more disappointed than he was prepared to admit.

“I haven’t changed my mind.” Her smile stalled his heart.

Niall stood at her shoulder as she unlocked her front door, grew giddy on her rose vanilla scent while she reset a security code. “Guess you need to be careful with all the valuables in the house?”

“We had a break-in before Gran died. It rattled her, so Grandpa went overboard.” Lucy might not have changed her mind, but the little tremble in her voice told him she wasn’t sure how to take the next step.

He was more than happy to help her. In the wide hallway, Niall waited while she hung her coat on a hook and set her bag on some fancy, slim-line walnut sideboard. She was efficient and graceful, the Holy Grail of the best furniture. When she’d finished, he walked her backward until the door was against her back. “I wanted to leave after those clever little pre-dinner nibbles Kate served.” He nuzzled the tender spot between her shoulder and neck, and was rewarded with her little shiver of pleasure.

“I nearly pleaded a headache after the main.” She splayed her fingers through his hair, got a grip and tugged his head up to face her.

“Do you think they noticed anything when we both refused dessert?” Her fragrance swirled around him, making it hard to focus on the task he’d set for himself—relaxing her so she took charge.

“Yes. Do you mind?” In the half-light of the hall, shadows played across her face, but the answer was clearly important to her.

“Not about my family knowing you’re special to me.” Niall brushed his mouth across hers, already lost in the taste of her. “I mind how much time we’ve wasted. Let me free your hair.” Pulling loose the few pins holding her chignon in place, he gathered her hair in his hands, exploring its weight and texture before bunching handfuls at the top of her head. She leaned into him, meeting him as an equal rather than offering a surrender.

“I like you, Liùsaidh McTavish.” He started a personal inventory of her features, pressing his lips to her forehead, skimming her eyebrows, feeling her eyelids flutter at the lightest pressure. Savouring her softness was diversion enough to let his lips linger for an eternity.

“I like—” The hitch in her breathing urged him to continue his exploration.

Releasing her hair, he cupped her jaw, needing to absorb her through his fingertips, a different kind of knowing. Running his nose against hers, he let his hands drop to hips rounder than when they’d met, a delicious handle to draw her closer.

“—you.” She sighed.

When he sought her mouth, she was waiting for him, sweetness in her I want-to-get-to-know-you-well kiss. He paused for a breath and to whisper, “I like the way you kiss.” He ran his hands down her arms and around her backside before lifting her against him.

“You are pleased to see me.” She wriggled against his arousal, and his cock saluted.

“It’s an invitation, Liùsaidh,” he groaned. “Not a demand.”

“I can say no?”

Only if you want to kill me.

“You can say ‘Yes, please, I’d like a bed, more, later,’ or”—he stepped back, so the door wasn’t supporting them both, and let her unglue herself from his length—“you can say no.” He was hanging onto control by a thread, but he’d made her a promise.

While he held his breath, she gave an encouraging pat to his crotch and turned on her heel. “Then, yes, please, more, right now, and my bedroom’s upstairs.”

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