He was calling me. That was a good sign, right?
Blood rushing in my ears, I took a deep breath, trying to calm down before I answered and hit speaker. “Hey.”
“Hi.” His deep, warm voice soothed something in me. “So I’ve thought about it.”
My pulse raced. “Yeah?”
“Aye.” Arran’s words sounded thick, smoky, when he continued, “I want a night with you too.”
Oh.
Oh, okay.
What?
“You do?” I practically squeaked.
“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”
“No,” I answered a little too eagerly.
“Good. I’ll be over in an hour.”
Surprise launched me off my couch. “You’re … I mean … what … we’re … tonight?”
He chuckled. “Well, you put the thought in my head, and now I can’t stop thinking about you, so if you’re on board, I want you tonight.”
I’d need to shower and make sure my sheets were clean and that there was nothing lying around that would prick his curiosity about my past and I needed to shave. Yes, shave. I needed to shave. “An hour?” I calculated whether that was enough time. “Can we make it ninety minutes?”
Arran laughed softly again. “Ninety minutes. I’ll see you soon.”
He hung up before I could respond.
I stared stupefied around the house.
Arran was coming here in ninety minutes to have sex with me.
Sex with me.
Something low and deep clenched in my belly, and the excitement overwhelmed my shy nerves. I wanted this. It was out of character and impulsive, but I wanted it.
I wanted him.
One night only.
“Oh, Lordy.” I let out a little laugh of surprise and then dashed toward my bedroom to shower.
* * *
For a second, I could only gawk at Arran standing on my porch.
He looked delicious in a long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans, his hair freshly washed, the scent of something spicy with a hint of citrus lingering in the air around him. I wanted to nuzzle my face in his throat and inhale.
Instead, I got locked in his azure eyes, heartbeat thudding loudly.
“You look gorgeous,” he said sincerely.
I hadn’t known whether to wear regular clothes or something sexy that could be easily taken off, so I’d decided to go for it. It got hot in my lodge on summer nights because there was no AC, and I usually slept in silk nighties to keep cool.
I’d put on my nicest one, deciding against artifice with Arran.
I wanted to have sex with him, and I was dressed for that occasion.
His fiery gaze lowered down my body, lingering on my bare (and freshly shaved) legs. The way he studied me, the way his jaw clenched as desire flashed across his features, made my thighs squeeze. He noted it, his eyes flying back to meet mine. “Will you ask me inside?”
I smiled at his word choice. “I think I already did.”
Surprise lit his eyes, and he chuckled. “That’s very true.”
We grinned at each other as I stepped back to let him in, and I realized, to my shock, that there was no awkwardness.
Closing and locking the door, I then reached for Arran’s hand. “This way.”
He slid his fingers through mine, and I shivered at the rough texture of his fingertips and palm against my skin. Holding his hand felt too good. Ignoring a brief flash of panic in the back of my mind, I squeezed his hand and led him into my small bedroom.
I let go and turned to face him by the end of the bed.
Arran’s gaze was searching, and the intensity of his focus made my breath come sharp and fast.
He stepped toward me, and I trembled.
“You ready to do this?” Arran asked quietly, his brow pinched with concern as his hands settled on my waist.
A million thoughts raced through my head about this being a possible mistake, but my body throbbed with need. I zeroed in on that. Yes, this was happening really fast. But for once, I didn’t want to be cautious or smart. I trusted Arran enough to share a moment of risk, of passion over sense. “Yes.”
Arran’s grip on my waist tightened as the heat in his blue eyes flamed brighter. He gave me what felt like a reassuring squeeze before his hands coasted down my hips and slipped under my nightie. I shivered at the soft caress of his fingertips on my belly.
“You have the softest skin,” he whispered hoarsely. When he caressed a little higher, across my ribs, goose bumps prickled over my breasts, and they felt tight, desperately ready for his hands, his mouth.
“Arran …”
He tickled his fingertips down my torso and down, down until his thumbs dug into the waistband of my underwear. He held my stare as he slowly tugged the lightweight lace over my hips. Then he guided them down, lowering to his haunches. I felt his hot breath on the silk of the nightie between my legs, and I shivered, the pulsing throb growing more insistent. Bracing a hand on his strong shoulder, I lifted one foot after the other so he could remove my panties.