Page 40 of Knots About You
‘Oh my days, Isla,’ I said. ‘This is so good.’
‘Thank you. It’s my go-to thinking cake.’ Isla flipped through her notebook and found the page she was looking for. Meowrse appeared on the seat beside me and gave a mournful little meow.
‘Hey, buddy,’ Isla crooned. Meowrse blinked at her for a moment before turning his head toward me and meowing again. I shifted my arm, and he took up residence in my lap.
Owen gave Meowrse’s head a scratch, while Isla scowled at the cat.
‘I swear he does it just to make me jealous.’ She speared her next forkful extra stabbily.
‘So the magazine wants a focused article all about you and the whisky distillery, and they are going to come to the fair with their photographer, as well as pop by the distillery. They want to do a four-page spread on bringing whisky into the twenty-first century.’ Isla spoke briskly while I lost my fingers in Meowrse’s ginger mane.
Owen let Isla very much lead the meeting. His hand slid from Meowrse’s chin to my thigh and remained there, a thumb stroking my inner knee. Focusing became a sport.
‘And then we have the influencers. Some are looking to collaborate, while others want to come visit on an access all areas sort of thing for their travel and tourism pages.’ Isla continued.
‘Do you want me to shoot a load more short reels too? It’s good to keep momentum up.’ It’s the least I could do, really, given how they’d welcomed me.
‘I don’t think they want a hundred videos of my hands,’ Owen grumbled.
‘You underestimate them.’ I laughed, and Isla nodded. ‘But we can do a mixture of reels. Some hot whisky daddy content, make some cocktail ideas, or whisky and dessert pairings? I’m sure we can come up with a load of options.’
Owen gave a long-suffering face before rolling up his sleeves. I would have pouted about the loss of his warm hand on my thigh, but the bare arms made up for it.
‘Right,’ Isla said an hour and three slices of cake later. ‘I’ve got to get home, but you guys have your reel ideas, and can post the drafts via Owen’s phone. I’ll go and finalise things with the magazine and the people who want to do content-based visits.’
‘Thanks, Isla,’ he said. ‘Don’t know what I’d do without you.’
Isla flushed at his brotherly praise. ‘Probably have more peaceful Sundays.’
‘Probably.’ Owen helped her carry all her things to the door.
She kissed my cheek and swept out into the wind.
The quiet wrapped around, alone at last.
Owen slid the bolt with a soft click. Before facing me, standing there with his hands in his pockets and looking at me like he could hear the way my pulse quickened.
‘Come here,’ he said, walking into the cosy sitting room and taking a seat in the armchair.
I followed, nervous excitement filling my stomach. My body had apparently decided obedience wasn’t a dirty word.
‘Do you still want to play, Claire?’ God, his voice had me squirming on the spot.
‘Yes.’
‘Strip.’ The command wasn’t harsh. Nor coy. And the unexpectedness of it made me bite my lip.
Heat careened down my spine. Old me would have made a joke to lessen my nerves and place myself back in control, but this me wanted to let him lead this game.
Taking my time, I slid my jumper over my head and dropped it on the floor. Owen leaned forward in the chair, his eyes fixed on me. Next went the boots, quickly followed by my tee and my jeans. Then the socks.
Being so exposed, when he sat there fully clothed, made my cheeks flush. I hesitated in my matching underwear, swallowing down a rush of anticipation.
‘Beautiful,’ Owen breathed, sitting backwards in a way that highlighted the bulge in his trousers. Damn. His face might not have given his excitement away, but the veritable Coke can in his pants did.
The log burner glazed my skin in orange warmth, and Owen’s openly hungry gaze heated me from the inside.
‘And the rest, city girl. I’m not going to be able to taste you if you’re covered, am I?’
