Free Must Love Scotland by Grace Burrowes Page B

tour,” Niall said, wrestling her into his lap, “giving up the sponsorships, and doing as you damned well please. Good for you, Julie Leonard. I’m proud of you, and you should be proud of yourself. Now, will you give up your clothes too?”

 
    Chapter Five
----
     
    A combination of joy, calm, and desire burbled through Julie as she treated herself to more of Niall Cromarty’s kisses.
    This was right, this was
her
right. Ten days from now, she might have regrets, but a missed afternoon at the driving range would not be among them.
    “I have protection,” Julie said, turning to straddle Niall. “I believe in protection.”
    “As do I, but I also believe in being naked, Julie Leonard. I want your skin next to mine, nothing between us save for that protection you so helpfully tucked among your socks.”
    Niall fell back on the bed, tugging Julie with him. She went down laughing, until his hand slipped under her polo shirt, a warm, welcome sensation amid many other welcome sensations.
    “I’m wearing a sports bra,” Julie said. “There’s no clasp. I’ll have to—”
    Niall’s expression—tender, amused, and patient—said he knew very well what a sports bra was.
    Derek had made jokes about Julie’s breasts, about a Holstein having contributed to the Leonard gene pool, and it being impossible to have too much of a good thing, right?
    Julie sat up and pulled her shirt over her head. “I like my breasts, do you hear me? They’re pretty, they can nourish babies, they bring me pleasure, and I like them. Love them, in fact. A lot. Girls, say hello to Mr. Cromarty.”
    The bra went next, while Niall’s smile became tinged with emotions Julie couldn’t read.
    “Say something, Niall,” Julie whispered, abruptly feeling foolish, to be sitting half-naked on a man she’d met only days ago, lecturing him about her breasts.
    “Hello, ladies,” Niall said quietly, kissing the tip of each breast. “My name is Niall, and I’m the luckiest man in Scotland. My mission in life has become to see that we get on famously.”
    Julie braced herself to be
handled
, because a well-endowed woman expected that. She’d never told her husband he was being ham-handed. She’d learned instead to ignore—
    Niall’s tongue, soft, damp, and delicate, circled a nipple, one direction, then the other.
    “You taste of lavender,” he said. “I like it. Tell me if you like this.”
    In the next small eternity, insights wedged themselves past the pleasure Niall brought Julie. She’d been
enduring
sex with her husband, telling herself for years that intimacy took time to fine-tune, that she’d raise her complaints—that’s what they were—when she and Derek were on a walk, or at the mall.
    That orgasms were overrated.
    The time had never come to open that discussion—to even go for a walk—and another part of Julie had gone into hibernation, an important part she should have paid more attention to.
    “How am I doing?” Niall asked, glossing his thumbs over Julie’s damp nipples. “How are
we
doing?”
    Another insight: Derek had never asked that question, never invited a conversation about their lovemaking. He’d been all dirty talk, dirty jokes, and in a subtle way, disrespect.
    For their marriage, for Julie, for the intimacy a husband and wife ought to share.
    “I’m overdressed,” Julie said. “So are you.” She rose off Niall and gave him a hand up, so they were standing close to each other beside the bed. He took off his shirt in a single motion, up, up, off, and tossed it across the room to land on the floor near Julie’s slides.
    For a moment, she simply looked at him. Niall wasn’t bulky, but his musculature was defined. His strength would last, and be supple and quick. She permitted herself a sniff. Cedar, seaside, heather… the great Scottish outdoors.
    Yum.
    “If I start touching you now,” she said, taking one step back, “I’ll just have to stop to get my slacks off. I’ll resent the hell out of