I grumble. "If you met Lachlan, you'd probably like him better."
"Bullshit." She rests her chin on my shoulder, sliding her hand over my belly. "You don't need props to impress me."
I set the glass on the table and swig a mouthful of whisky straight from the bottle, a bit of it spilling onto my lips.
She takes my face in her hands, sits up, and drags her tongue across first my bottom lip, then the upper one. "Mm, it tastes better on you."
My breath hitches, and I lock my gaze on her. The tone of her voice… It was ravenous.
With her hands still bracketing my face, she tugs me closer. Our gazes never diverge, as if a rope binds us to each other. She captures my lower lip between hers and suckles, gently at first, then with more hunger. Though I hold on to the whisky bottle with one hand, I settle the other onto her hip and curl my fingers around it.
She releases my lip.
I'm already breathing harder, and our faces are so close that our breaths seem to mingle. Suddenly, she crushes her mouth to mine.
I make a low noise—part groan, part gasp—and open my mouth to her.
Need pulses through me, straight into my cock that's hardening swiftly. She keeps hold of my face as she thrusts her tongue inside my mouth. I cannae resist coiling my tongue around hers in a slow and seductive movement that drives her to wriggle against me and quest deeper as if she means to lap up the flavor of the whisky I'd swallowed. The texture of her mouth, slippery and soft, heightens my lust, and so does the way she pants into my mouth while her breasts mound against my chest, rubbing her stiff nipples against me.
We're on the verge of fucking. But no, I cannae take her virginity like this.
I surge up off the sofa, leaving her in a dazed heap on the cushions.
Calli blinks up at me like she's struggling to clear the haze of desire and catch her breath.
I toss back a mouthful of whisky, then clap the bottle down on the coffee table. Swiping at my mouth with the back of my hand, I glance down at her. "Best stop."
My cock is throbbing, so aye, we need to stop before I do something I shouldn't.
I stalk around the sofa to the bar where I plant both palms on the surface, leaning into it with my head bowed. Why am I fashed? I think it's because Calli means more to me than she realizes, and I don't know if she ever will feel the way I do. But here, now, I know exactly what I want from her.
Behind me, I can hear Calli's movements when she pushes up off the sofa and approaches the bar. She halts beside me. I don't dare move a muscle, so I keep my head down and my eyes closed while she places one hand on mine. I can't stop myself from tensing up.
"What is it?" she asks. "Thought you liked kissing me."
"I love it," I say in a hushed voice. "But I want more than kissing."
She keeps her hand on mine, her skin warming me just enough that I relax a little. She bends one finger to stroke the back of my hand. "I know. You want sex. I want—"
"No." I pull my hand away, turn, and stalk halfway across the living room. Scrubbing my face with one hand, I sigh. "I want more than sex. You know that."
Peripherally, I see it when she leans against the bar with her elbow braced on it. "Okay, but you said sex would come first."
I face her, forcing myself to stand straight and resolute. "Marry me."
"What?" She almost shouts the word, her eyes wide and her mouth open. "Where is this coming from? You know I can't marry you. Even if I wanted to, we barely know each other."
"Aye, but I know what I want." I take two steps toward her, hesitating a short distance from her. "Please, Calli, marry me. I swear I'll make you happy and you'll never regret this. One day, maybe you'll even love me."
"Do you love me?"
Lowering my gaze, I scratch the back of my head. "Not yet."
"Then why would you want to marry me? What's the rush?"
I hike up one shoulder and stare at the floor while seconds tick by on the clock in my head. Am I insane? What has come over me tonight? Yes, I want to be with Calli for good, but this was not the time or the place for a barmy proposal. Clearly, she doesn't like the idea. I shuffle to the padded chair on the other side of the living room, the one situated against the wall under a topographic map of the Upper Peninsula. I fall into the chair with a groaning sigh, my shoulders deflating, my entire body slumping. With my hands on the chair's arms, I can't make myself look at her, not even when she crosses the room to kneel before me.
"Aidan." She lays her hands on my knees. "Please tell me what's going on with you."