Free KiltedForPleasure by Melissa Blue Page B

“I’m not a wet hole you can stick your dick into when grief hits you. If you recall, I’m not a fan of being used.”

    Guilt dug into him, making it hard for him to breathe around it. He hadn’t meant to make her feel like a thoughtless balm to his pain, but that’s exactly what he’d done.

    He yanked her to him. “If I just wanted a hole it wouldn’t be you. You’re cute, aye, but you’re also stubborn, suspicious, paranoid… Complicated . You’re the last person I want to fuck.”

    She pushed at his chest. His hand took all of the blow and then he held both of her hands to keep her from doing it again. She muttered a curse. “Let me go.”

    He didn’t because he wanted the option of shaking some sense into her. “Do I miss my wife?” His throat tightened with the question. “ Yes . Was that eating at me last night? Yes . But you’re smart, kind and curse like a Scot. You’re your own woman.” The truth of that sat like a stone in his stomach. “I need to fuck you just so I can think again.”

    She gasped. “That is so insulting.”

    Anger curled in his stomach. It shouldn’t have but her simple words hit a chord. “And it’s honest.”

    “I don’t want your honesty,” she spat back.

    “Now tell the truth, lass, despite that, do you want my bark or just my bite?”

    Victoria sneered. “Let. Me. Go.”

    She’d put him in a temper as easily as she dragged him into his grief and, apparently, he did the same to her. He tried again. It mattered that she understood. “Burke, I may have been feeling raw yesterday, but I didn’t use you.”

    Her breath caught and the fight in her posture left. “Why should I believe you? Why shouldn’t I think yesterday was some kind of red flag?”

    He sighed, mentally kicking himself for not having seen it earlier. She needed reassurance that he wouldn’t hurt her, that he’d keep his word. How often did he shift to anger when the cold fingers of fear gripped his heart? Too often. What did it mean that he wanted to give her reassurance?

    Callan dropped her hands to cup her face. “Sleep with me or not. It’s that simple, Burke. No excuses. No bringing up cloak and dagger motives you think I have for fucking you.”

    Her mouth pulled tight and she shook her head to dislodge his hands. He tutted, but waited.

    She glared up at him. “You irritate me sometimes.”

    “Ditto.”

    She shook her head and chuckled. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

    “Yes or no?”

    “Yes,” she whispered, her gaze going to his mouth. “Kiss me before I change my mind.”

    So he kissed her before logic could kick in again. She made a half-hearted protest.

    He edged back, not wanting a repeat of the night before. “If the answer is no, leave now.”

    An indecipherable noise wrenched from her throat. She fisted her hand in his hair and brought his mouth back to hers. That was as good as a yes for him. He did what he’d had the urge to do when she first walked in—yanked her skirt higher and then pulled her into his lap. There was no more protests, no hesitation. She straddled him, moaning into his mouth.

    He tugged at her shirt and had it unbuttoned in record time. Skin. Sweet Mary. Her skin. Nothing had ever felt this good beneath his fingertips. She rocked into him, a wordless message for him to keep going. His hands fumbled over the clasp of her bra.

    “Do it again,” he demanded, and when she did, he grunted his approval.

    After he tossed her bra across the workshop, he gripped her hips to guide her in the slow grind. It was a tease of what he really wanted—inside her. Now. But it felt right to take this slow immersion into a mutual seduction. Maybe Victoria understood because she cupped one hand along his cheek and buried her other hand in his hair.

    But slow didn’t mean without urgency. Victoria bare and soft and wet is what he needed. He pulled down the side zipper on her skirt and lifted the soft material until it was past her belly button.