"Aye, and that's whisky spelled the Scottish way, without the E." I can't help smiling a wee bit because she is the most adorable, sexiest woman I've ever met. "You Americans don't know how to spell."
"Well, you Scots don't know how to pronounce anything." She slants toward me and tips her head back to look me in the eye. "Are you a Highlander?"
"Matter of fact, I am."
"Got a big sword?"
I capture her chin between my thumb and forefinger, bending my head toward hers. Her lips are close enough to kiss, and I can't keep the lust from coloring my voice. "Matter of fact, I do."
Her attention flicks down to my kilt. "Don't see it."
"Maybe I'll show you later. At home." Why am I saying these things to her? I should see her home and go to bed early, not stand here trying it on with Erica.
She swings her gaze up to mine. "What do Highlanders wear under their kilts?"
Bod an Donais.I'd love to show her what I've got on under my kilt. Love to show her my "sword" too.
I dip my head even closer until my breaths mingle with hers. "I think the whisky's getting to ye."
"Feel fine." She twirls on her high heels without stumbling, as if that proves she isn't intoxicated.
As much as I want this woman, I can't take advantage of her, even if she's only a little tipsy.
She scuffles backward a step and bumps into the bar.
I brace one elbow on the bar, cross my ankles, and let myself devour her body with my eyes one last time before I put her in a taxi.
Erica sidles closer to me.
Tell her to go home, my brain urges. But my cock has other ideas that keep me rooted to this spot.
She hoists herself onto her tiptoes and tilts her chin up. Her mouth hovers so close I could kiss her with only the slightest movement.
"Sure ye didn't have a pint or two before I got here?" I ask.
Why does my voice sound uncertain, almost quivering? I bend toward her an inch, no more, so close I swear I can taste her breaths. Erica leans in too, her heels lifting off the floor and her luscious breasts grazing my chest.
I settle my hands on her elbows, splaying my fingers over her silky bare skin. "Erica, you are exquisite, like a rare orchid plucked from a field of heather."
What a bloody stupid thing to say.
But I can't think anymore or notice anything except her eyes locked on to mine and her mouth so close her chin brushes against mine.
Then she kisses me.
Erica presses her mouth to mine and exhales a whisper of a moan.
My entire body goes rigid, and my cock throbs with a need that's hardening myslatmore every second. I stop breathing and for certain stop thinking, especially when she flattens her hand on my chest and explores me with her delicate fingers. I don't hear the music anymore, only the pounding of my pulse in my ears as she molds her mouth to mine with more pressure and her tits rub against my chest. I know I shouldn't kiss her back, but the scent of her and the softness of her mouth encourage my muscles to relax—and my lips too.
She tastes like sin and heaven and whisky.
Erica slips her tongue between my lips.
My breath hitches, but despite my body craving her like mad, I know I shouldn't let her kiss me deeply. I'll never be able to say no to her, to what we both want, if I do that. All I can do is keep my teeth locked so she can't steal a deeper taste. And so I can't either.
My resolve lasts a few seconds.
Then I groan and take charge of the kiss, raking my lips over hers, opening to let her steal that deeper taste we've both wanted. She throws her arms around my neck, her body suspended off the floor. I can't stop myself from nibbling on her lower lip, loving the soft noises she makes and the fearless way she plunges deeper. I suck her lip into my mouth, only to release it and reclaim her mouth.