need them…yet.
“I can kiss all your wounds.”
Her momma would have been appalled at the dirty thoughts coursing through her mind. Her sisters would want a play-by-play. Quinn reached between their bodies and ran her hand over his jean-covered crotch. “This would be easier if you had on your skirt.”
“Next time,” he whispered before spinning her in his arms and crushing his lips against hers. He tasted of chocolate chip cookies. She smiled against his lips.
“You stole a cookie,” she whispered. Her voice came out husky and wanting as his lips traveled down the other side of her neck while one hand moved to unhook her bra.
“I plan to steal a lot more than your cookies,” he said as the bra slid to the floor. His gaze landed on the cuts on her chest from the car incident, and it was as if someone flipped a switch. His touch gentled, and his brows dipped.
Gone was the brazen Highlander who looked ready to ravish her. Her cheeks heated as she watched him slowly pull away. The cuts on her chest vaporized her chances of joining the foreign affair touchdown club. Surely they had something similar to the mile-high club but for tourists who were looking to score.
“I’m sorry.” He dropped his hold and took a step back, putting more space between them and breaking whatever hold he’d had over her. “I donae know what came over me.” He met her gaze. “When I’m near you, I cannae help myself.”
“Why would you want to?” She had two choices. One to let him walk out the door and let her libido die down to a simmer or the second…to finish stripping and get the extra points.
The decision was ripped away when he turned and stormed out the door, leaving her trying to calm her racing heart.
“Nice…my first play was a fumble.” Quinn was left hot and bothered. She couldn’t deny she wanted him and wouldn’t turn him away. Two more minutes and Collin would have gotten more than a simple thank-you for delivering her cookies. It wasn’t as though he would have been a one-night stand. More like several nights, had she gotten her way. Sleeping with him would have been a more pleasant way to pass the time than trying to unravel a curse she didn’t believe in. She needed to get to the bottom of things and quick. It was time she had her chat with Gwinnie, and she knew just where to find her.
After dressing, she wound her way through the castle, ignoring the look of hatred from the blonde Barbie as she passed. She’d started up the small staircase, taking two steps at a time, but by the time she reached the top, she was gasping for air and clutching her side. Her desire to talk to the ghost slowly dwindled with each step. The door to the tower stood open. Gwinnie herself stood in the middle of the room as Quinn entered. The apparition pointed toward the painting leaning up against the wall. A satin-dressed version of Quinn stared back at herself. A shiver skirted down her spine as she gazed upon it, inspecting each paint stroke. A ruby comb poked out of the unruly red hair. The woman in the painting had Quinn’s mother’s eyes and her father’s cheekbones. The lady in the picture could have been Quinn’s twin.
Quinn shook her head. This was impossible. She didn’t believe in curses. “Your gypsy was a medium. She must have actually seen me coming.”
“Aye,” the ghost answered. “She did, and you must leave.”
“Why?” Quinn asked, yanking the sheets off the other paintings that Collin had told her about to get an overall picture of what the medium had seen.
“They must never know how the emerald disappeared. Some mysteries are never meant to be solved.”
“I hate to break it to you, lady, but I plan to figure this out.” Quinn turned to find that Gwinnie vanished, replaced by the big, brooding, red-bearded Highlander.
“’Tis better if you leave the sins of the past where they lie to save your own life.”
Quinn tilted her head and crossed her arms over her chest. “Why