Page 8 of My Highland Fling
“I haven’t changed my mind.Have you?”
Her quiet words pierced his panic, and he shook his head.“Not a chance.Let me check-in.”He left her sitting in the cozy foyer.A door leading to a tiny courtyard garden was open, the curtains fluttering in the evening breeze.The sun set late at this time of the year, and it was barely dark as he spoke with the desk clerk.
“One night?”the man asked.
“Yes, just the one.Unfortunately, we have to leave tomorrow.”Ramsay murmured this with a straight face and was proud of himself.Besides, it was kind of the truth and depressing.He shoved aside the morose thoughts and focused on the positive.His beautiful Gabrielle.
“Can I take an imprint of your credit card, please?”
Ramsay pulled out his wallet and handed over his card.
“The room key, Mr.Walton, and the key for the street level door.If you leave again for any reason, you’ll require it to enter.Your room is on the second floor—the Buchanan Room.Turn right after exiting the lift.
Ramsay nodded.“Is there a minibar?”
“There is, and you can order room service food and drinks if you’d like.Enjoy your stay.”
“Thank you.”Ramsay strode over to Gabrielle and reached for her hand.“Come on.”
She grinned at him and squeezed his hand hard.“Can’t wait.I’m impatient.”
“You aren’t the only one.”His words emerged with a faint growl, his feline exerting his say.He’d settle once they were reclining on a bed without a stitch of clothing.The elevator doors opened, and Ramsay ushered her inside.
It seemed ages before he pushed the room door ajar and stood back for Gabrielle to enter first.
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” she murmured.
A bed dominated the room, and the designer had arranged a comfy seating area to take in the view.Another door led to an en suite while a small counter against the wall held coffee-making facilities, a mini-fridge, and a selection of glasses and snacks.
“Let me find the light.”Ramsay had no difficulty since his feline eyesight was excellent, but it grew darker with each passing minute.“Are you hungry?Would you like a drink?”
“No,” she said, turning to him.“I want you.”
Ramsay’s stomach hollowed out, and his hand trembled before he balled it into a fist and hid it behind his back.
Gabrielle dropped her bag beside the bed.“Do I make you nervous?”
He smiled even as he nodded.“You’re beautiful, and I can’t believe my luck.”
She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.“I’m the lucky one.Can I take off your shirt?”
“Yes.”Ramsay stood still while she unfastened his shirt buttons.When she’d finished, he toed off his shoes.
“How does your kilt work?Have I told you how sexy you look in your kilt?”
“It’s not my normal attire, but it’s part of our Middlemarch uniform.The girls have tartan dresses, and our local seamstress designed the Middlemarch tartan, especially for our gathering.Most attendees are of Scottish ancestry.”
“We don’t have a national dress where I come from in Europe.Most women wear designer clothes, and the men don suits.”
Ramsay smoothed a lock of blonde hair off her face.“At home, I’m normally in a chef’s jacket and checked trousers.When I’m relaxing, it’s either jeans or shorts and a T-shirt.”
“That sounds nice.We don’t do casual at our house and have to dress for dinner.My parents are very formal.”
“Later for the getting-to-know-you stuff.”Ramsay pressed his palm over her mouth.“No more talk of home for either of us.I know enough, and we have way more important things in our future.”
“We do,” she said, grinning at him after she’d licked his palm.The innocent touch shot through him like a rocket, the flash of sensation lengthening his dick.
“You’re dangerous.”
