She throws her arms around my neck.
And I lash mine around her body, splaying my palms on her back, my fingers crooking just enough to crinkle her shirt. The feel of her breasts mashed to my chest amps up my need until I'm fighting my every impulse to flip her onto her back and drive into her.
Erica moans into my mouth.
Bod an Donais, that sound, and the way it vibrates from her lips into mine. It's the most erotic thing I've ever experienced. I exhale a long, guttural grown and shove one hand under her erse to hoist her up and lay her down on the cushions, on her back, her body spread across the sofa's length with her legs draped over my lap. I take a moment to just look at her, the way her lips have fallen open and they've turned a darker shade of pink, and the way her tits rise and fall with the hard peaks visible under her shirt. My erection grazes her body when I move the slightest bit.
Her hands grasp my shoulders, but I can't tell if she wants to pull me closer or push me away. I angle in to kiss a path across her forehead, down her temple, and lower to the tender spot under her ear.
"Lachlan," she murmurs, her tone almost dazed.
I close a hand over her hip, massaging the hollow with my thumb. Our lips hover inches apart, but somehow, I restrain myself and don't claim them with another punishing kiss, though I want to so much it physically hurts not to do it. I drag my hand over her hip and down to her groin, where I swear I can smell her cream even through her blue jeans. The scent of it makes me feel drugged, stripping away my willpower and my good sense, but I don't care about any of that. I rest the heel of my hand on her mound, moving it in lazy circles over the spot where I know her clitoris lies, keeping my caresses light and relishing the way she writhes beneath me and spreads her legs in a silent invitation. I push my fingers between her thighs, stroking her right where those luscious folds await me, but I can't do what my body wants—tear open her jeans to fondle her there.
No, I won't shag her yet, despite needing to so badly I'm starting to sweat. Instead of undressing her, I keep circling my palm over her clitoris and keep petting her between her thighs while the scent of her lust envelops me. I haul in a deep breath through my nostrils so I can revel in the aroma. It's better than whisky, better than Atholl Brose, better than anything I've ever smelled before.
She bucks her hips, gasping and moaning and whimpering, her eyes squeezed shut.
Then she clasps her hand around my rock-hardslat.The fabric between our bodies does nothing to lessen the effect of her fingers gripping me.
"Och!" I shout, pushing her hand away. My eyes flash wide an instant before they slide mostly shut. Christ, this woman is going to drive me insane. "Donnae be touching me like that. Yet."
"What if I do?" She palms my shaft.
The cheeky woman strokes me with those delicate fingers, and when I bat her hand away, she aims a sultry half smirk, half frown at me.
"If ye keep it up," I say, "the train'll derail again."
"Would that be the fun train?"
"Aye." I scrape my lips across hers. "Keep yer wee hand to yerself."
"Or what?"
Has Erica Teague just issued a challenge? Aye, she has. And I never back down without a fight.
I rip open the button on her jeans and yank the zipper down with a loud noise of metal rasping across metal. Erica gasps when I thrust my hand inside her knickers to spread my palm over the flesh between her thighs. Her cream moistens my skin, which makes my cock throb for her.
She knows what she's doing to me. The cheeky lass wouldn't have palmed my dick if she didn't realize exactly how that would affect me. I never would have guessed Erica could become a brazen, lustful wanton.
But I love that about her.
I circle the heel of my hand over her taut nub again, though now nothing separates my skin from hers. I sweep my fingers up and down her cleft, her juices coating my skin, and I keep stroking her while her back bows up and her mouth falls opens on a strangled whimper. She digs her fingers into my shoulder, but the slight pain only makes me want her more. I seal my mouth over hers, and this time, the kiss is brutal and all-consuming. Diving my fingers inside her, I crook them so they press into the erogenous spot I know lies just inside her opening.
A phone rings.
The sound barely registers in my mind. I plunge two fingers inside Erica while our tongues clash and tangle, our mutual hunger too powerful to deny.
The phone rings again.
Bollocks. I pull away from her body. Breathing hard, I snatch my mobile off the table and glance at the caller ID. I can't help letting out a sharp growl. It's Rory ringing me, but the last thing I want to do right now is chat to him. I can't ignore it, though. Rory is my solicitor as well as my brother, so this could be important.
I prop myself up with one straight arm and accept the call.
Before I can speak, Rory starts talking. "Lachlan, I'm sorry to interrupt your holiday in America, but I've just received some disquieting news. It seems there was a clerical error when the divorce papers were filed. Try not to let it fash you, but it does appear that the papers are invalid which means the final decree also is. I don't have confirmation it's true, so I'll need to investigate on my own. It looks like you are, technically, still married to Aisley."
"What?" I shout. Though Rory told me not to let it fash me, I can't stop the anger that's seething inside me. Aisley, that faithless cow, must have connived to make this happen. I wasn't a good enough husband for her, but she refuses to let me go. My knuckles start to ache, probably because I'm clenching the mobile. Spittle sprays from my mouth when I snarl, "Well, bloody find out if it's true, Rory. I want to know now!"
Grinding my teeth, I grip the mobile even tighter.