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“But… are we not going too quick?” she blurted.
Ruairidh chuckled, low and affectionate. “Always the overthinker. You’re adorable.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead—soft, grounding.
“I love you. You love me. I’d say that’s a bit more serious than you moving in,” he said lightly.
“Even Morag?”
“Absolutely Morag.” He laughed. Then his tone shifted, voice deepening, darkening. “I want you in our bed. Baking in our kitchen. I want to come home to you here. Our house.”
Jenn’s breath caught in her throat. Oh.
She swallowed hard, every nerve alight with anticipation and something more. Desire.
He reached for her hand, his grip warm and steady. “You can think about it. But I need you to know I’m serious. This isn’t just talk.”
“I don’t need to think about it.” Her pulse thundered, every inch of her craving him—not just for tonight, but for the future he was daring to promise.
Slowly, carefully, he closed the space between them again. His hands cupped her face, thumbs tracing soft lines along her cheekbones.
“Ìosa, Jenn… you have no idea what you do to me.”
His lips brushed hers—first tentative, like a question—then deep and claiming when she responded. Every hesitation melted away in the heat of that kiss. She tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as the world narrowed to just the two of them.
Ruairidh’s hands roamed with familiarity and purpose, sliding from her face down to her waist, pulling her flush against him. Heat pooled between them, thick and electric.
She could feel his heartbeat pounding in sync with hers, solid and relentless. Her breath hitched as his mouth trailed from lips to jawline, down her neck—each kiss a claim, each touch possessive. The faint rasp of stubble scraped deliciously across her skin, leaving trails of fire in its wake.
“Tell me what you want, Jenn,” he murmured against her skin, voice husky and low. “Right now.”
She swallowed, voice trembling, “I want you. In that bed. Our bed. Right. Now.”
That was all he needed.
With a growl, he lifted her easily into his arms, carrying her upstairs and toward their bedroom as laughter and longing danced in her chest. His hands mapped every curve as he undressed her, his touch confident but reverent. Jenn melted into him, every nerve sparking beneath his fingertips. Fingers tangled in his hair, pulling at his clothes, drawing him closer—craving more of that intoxicating scent of citrus and salt and woodsmoke clinging to his skin. He kissed her with an urgency that matched her pounding heart, desire slowly building to a wild crescendo.
She whispered against his mouth, “Don’t stop.”
He chuckled, low and throaty, vibrating through her—right to her core. “Never.”
Breathless and raw, Jenn pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the steady thump beneath her palm.
“I love you,” she breathed.
“I love you. Always,” he promised.
He trailed hot kisses from her neck, all the way down her chest to her stomach. She felt branded. On fire. His broad shoulders settled between her thighs, and he gave her a filthy smile full of dark promises.
Jenn clenched in anticipation. She could barely breathe.
Ruairidh bent his head, his tongue giving a long, slow lick up her core. Jenn bucked off the bed, releasing wild, needy sounds. His strong hands gripped her hips, pinning her down—his to feast, his to control. He licked and teased her mercilessly, slow and deliberate, his tongue stroking in ways that made her bones feel like liquid fire.
Jenn’s feet were braced against his shoulders, her fingers tangled in his hair, clinging like she might drown without him. His hair was soft against her palms, and the scrape of his jaw against her inner thigh made her cry out. She rolled her hips against his mouth, shameless now, riding him with frantic desperation. Every flick of his tongue pushed her closer, every hungry suck pulling broken sounds from her throat.
“Ruairidh…” she gasped, the plea caught between a sob and a moan.
Her orgasm crashed through her, sharp and blinding, making her entire body seize before melting into sweet oblivion.
But he didn’t stop.
