Highlander for the Holidays (30 page)

That’s what had caused the terror in her eyes; Jessie still didn’t know him quite well enough to gauge whether or not he was going to pity her or be disgusted or turned off. Hell, even a hint that he was disappointed would probably kill her.

Ian scrubbed his hands over his face, wanting to roar. Jessie Pringle had more courage in her one and a half boobs than he had in his entire body. Forget getting up every time she got knocked down; she’d spent the day preparing to take a blow that had the potential to be more devastating than her flashbacks.

He walked over and shut off the deck floodlights but stopped in midstride on his way to check the front door when Jessie suddenly came running out of the bedroom tying her bathrobe at her waist. “I forgot that I bought Toby a special treat,” she said, opening the fridge and then wrestling something off the bottom shelf. She set it on the counter and unwrapped the butcher paper, then using the paper like a platter, carried what appeared to be a monstrous cow bone over to Toby and set it paper and all on the floor in front of him. She gave him a quick pat on the head as Toby wiggled forward to give it a sniff. “Enjoy yourself, you big lug,” she murmured, getting up and heading back into the hall. She suddenly stopped and looked at the blank television screen, then at the darkened deck, and then at Ian. “I know it’s early yet, so . . . um . . . no hurry,” she said, disappearing back into the bedroom.

Only this time she forgot to close the door, much less lock it, and Ian smiled when he heard his bed squeak as she vaulted up onto the mattress. Oh yeah, Jessie had planned a very serious seduction if the size of Toby’s bone was any indication. Ian continued on to the front door and made sure it was locked, then came back and squatted in front of Toby—wise enough not to reach out to him. “I hope you know the difference between screams of ecstasy and terror, big man,” he whispered softly as he picked up the paper and quietly crumpled it into a ball as the dog wrestled the bone—that had to weigh at least ten pounds—into position to gnaw on the smooth joint at the end. “Just don’t think you’re going to get a bone every night for the next seventy years.”

Ian straightened, opened the back damper on the stove, and tossed in the butcher’s paper, then went in the bathroom and washed and dried his hands. He stared at himself in the mirror and grinned like the village idiot when he realized his bathrobe certainly matched his eyes right now. He slipped it off and hung it on the back of the door, then reached his thumbs in the waist of his pajama bottoms and started to push them off only to suddenly pull them back up, deciding not to give Jessie an actual target to go after. She might not know him all that well yet, but he sure as hell knew she’d take any opportunity to distract him from exploring every square inch of her body. So he unzipped his ditty bag and took out a string of condoms, snapped off the bathroom light, and headed into the bedroom, figuring to use Jessie’s own tactics against her.

Leaving the hall light on hoping just enough would shine under the crack at the bottom of the door to allow his night vision to see what he was doing—assuming he finally got to do something tonight—Ian softly closed the bedroom door on the off chance Toby decided saving his lady took precedence over his bone. He then pulled back the covers and slipped into his side of the bed—an argument hard-won once he’d actually had a bed to slip into, as apparently this was Jessie’s side. But when explaining he needed to sleep next to the door in case a boogeyman came calling in the middle of the night hadn’t worked, he’d simply picked her up and tossed her over on the other side, climbed in, and hauled her back against him.

Only tonight, instead of rolling over and pulling her into his arms, Ian settled on his hip facing the door, tucked the condoms under the pillow, and waited. It took two full minutes for Jessie to grow restless, another minute before he heard her sigh, then not ten seconds after that before she lost her patience altogether.

“What’s the Gaelic word for
clueless
?” she asked sweetly. “Or
idiot
?
Moron
? Or even
jackass
?”

“Is there a problem?”

“Better yet, give me the Gaelic term for
denser than dirt
,” she growled, yanking his shoulder to roll him onto his back, only to squeak in alarm when he continued rolling on top of her definitely naked body.

“I believe the word you’re looking for is
gràdhadair
,” he whispered, threading his fingers through her hair, “as that’s what a woman calls her lover.”

He kissed her then, sweeping his tongue inside her mouth as he positioned himself between her legs. He felt her trying to wedge her hands up between them to cover her breasts, and he kept kissing her until he felt her start to relax, sensing her focus change from herself to him when her hands slid up over his ribs to his back.

He traced a path across her cheek with his lips and felt her shiver. “The moment ye ask me to stop, I will, Jess,” he said against her ear, “but I hope ye don’t. Let me take ye to a magical place where there’s nothing but overwhelming pleasure. Can ye trust me enough to go there with me, lass?”

“Yes,” she said on an indrawn breath when he kissed a path down to her throat, stopping to sip at her pulse. Her fingers dug into his back, her legs moving restlessly against his. “You . . . you’re wearing your pajamas.”

“Not for long,” he promised softly. The bed creaked as her restlessness turned to struggles—not to stop him but to urge him on. So Ian untangled his hands from her hair where he’d been restraining himself from touching her and traced a lone finger down the moist path his mouth had made, stopping to slide it across her lips and dip inside. Only she closed her mouth around it and sucked, the sensation making him shudder and instinctively press his hips forward.

Jessie began her own exploration of his body, and Ian was more than willing to let her keep herself occupied, fighting to keep his own focus when her fingers slipped under the elastic at his waist to cup his buttocks. He dropped his hand to the outside of her right breast and palmed its weight, groaning against the pulse in her neck when she shivered in response and strained into his touch when he brushed his thumb over her nipple, her soft gasp of pleasure going straight to his groin.

“Oh,” she gasped again when he pulled her nipple into his mouth and sucked. Ian continued his gentle assault, every endearing sound she made urging him on as he moved his mouth lower still, her skin contracting in quivering shudders as he kissed a path to her navel.

But as he’d risen to adjust his position, Jessie’s hands had slid around to his front and didn’t have any problem finding a target. Ian hissed on an indrawn breath when her fingers wrapped intimately around him right through the silk material.

“Ohmigod,” he heard her mutter as she reared up and pushed at his shoulder with one hand while refusing to let go of her prize with the other. She then started tugging on the drawstring. “Will you help me get these damn things off?”

“Not until I’m ready to put on a condom,” he growled right back at her, pushing her down to settle over her again.

She stilled. “Oh, they’re still in the closet,” she cried, pushing at him.

Ian rested his forehead on hers with a pained chuckle. “Ye had all day to plan this and you forgot the most important thing?” He captured her response in his mouth. Once he was certain she’d forgotten what they’d been talking about, he started his journey down her neck, only to stop when he felt her go still again. “What?” he asked before continuing on toward her right breast.

He never did hear her answer, as she started making sweet little noises when he ran his tongue around her beaded nipple before pulling it into his mouth. She was so amazingly responsive, her soft skin dewed with arousal and her hands moving over him with growing urgency. Ian settled onto his hip beside her and slid his hand up the inside of her thigh, and gently pressed into her slickness. Her soft, keening moan music to his ears, he then touched her sensitive bud and slipped a finger inside her with a violent shudder of his own.

Tension and heat radiated from her in waves of building passion. She lifted her pelvis into his hand, driving his finger deeper even as she pushed at his shoulders again. “Go . . . go get the condoms,” she panted raggedly. “Now.”

Ian reached under his pillow and dangled one of the packets in front of her eyes, but then tapped it against her nose when he realized she couldn’t see it. “Look what I remembered to bring, and I didn’t even get an invitation to this party.”

“What was that term again for
jackass
?” she rasped, snatching it out of his hand and tearing it open.

He snatched it back and rolled onto his side enough to slide out of his pajamas and sheath himself, then got to his knees between her legs and slowly lowered his chest until it was touching hers—making Jessie suck in her breath when his chest hair brushed her left beaded nipple. Her hands rose, but instead of trying to cover herself or push him away, she reached up and undid the band tied at the nape of his neck. She ran her fingers through his hair as she brought her hands down to his shoulders and locked her elbows, both her nipples brushing his chest when she took a deep breath—apparently readying herself for an invasion.

Ian dropped his forehead to hers. “I do believe I’ve forgotten some of the rules of engagement,” he said quietly. “Could ye maybe help me out here, Jess?

“H-how?” she asked, her finger flexing on his shoulders.

“Well, I thought maybe you could start by breathing and then maybe guide me inside you.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m fairly certain I can take over from there. Do ye want me, Jess?” he whispered against her lips. “Show me. Invite me in.” He rested his forehead on hers again, every muscle in his body aching in protest of being restrained. “Preferably sooner rather than later, lass.”

She unlocked her elbows and reached down between them, making Ian grit his teeth when her fingers brushed his scrotum and she . . .

“Did you just giggle?” he growled.

“Absolutely n—”

The rest of her blatant lie was lost in his groan when Jessie lifted her hips at the same time she guided him inside her. And as promised, Ian took over from there by moving her hand away and pressing forward. He felt her stretching to accommodate him, her fingers digging into his biceps as he slowly seated himself deeply and then went perfectly still. He started sweating as his muscles rippled with the need to move, his eyes trained on her face for a sign that he could.

“O-ohmigod, Ian,” she said, her voice quivering with—God, he hoped that was pleasure making her voice shake. “Please
move
.”

He eased his hips back, then pressed into her again, her moan as she arced up to meet him and her fingers digging into his shoulders completely shattering his noble intentions to be gentle. This was Jessie, he finally remembered; his sassy, courageous
gràineag
who sure as hell wasn’t going to let him treat her like some fragile flower.

Ian increased his rhythm, feeling her building passion tighten around him in waves of pulsating heat. He gritted his teeth to hold back the tidal wave of pleasure threatening his control when Jessie suddenly began cresting without warning, and pressed his mouth over hers to capture her scream as every cell in his body responded to her plea to join her. He drove deeply into her, throwing back his head and going perfectly still again, allowing her contractions to pull him into her powerful release.

Time suspended as their physical bodies ceased to exist, and Ian could actually feel the pure energy of pleasure emanating from Jessie to mesh with his, the sensation seeming to fill the room with the blinding light of a thousand suns.

Ian looked down through a haze of light-headedness to see as clearly as if it were daylight that Jessie had pulled a pillow from beneath her and was holding it over her face to muffle her long, keening cry, and he marveled that she actually had the wherewithal to even think about not wanting to alarm Toby, considering he didn’t even have sense enough right now to breathe.

The pillow lowered to her chest, Jessie’s ragged pants pressing it like an accordion between them as Ian very carefully eased his body down onto hers so he could kiss first one of her fiery hot cheeks and then the other, afraid to kiss her lips because she obviously needed to gulp in copious amounts of air, too.

What to say . . . what to say . . . Ian realized he hadn’t thought about the rules for
after
the engagement, but figured he’d better say something that would let him engage her again. “Say something, Jess,” he whispered against her cheek, deciding to put the onus on her, because hey, he’d done a damn fine job of keeping her distracted long enough to actually do it.

“I . . . I . . . I think I actually saw stars.”

He rested his forehead against hers with a chuckle. “Just stars? Hell, I saw a thousand suns.” Figuring she’d caught her breath enough for a quick kiss, Ian touched his lips to hers, but lifted his head the minute she moaned.

“Oh yes, move inside me like that again.”

He stilled, then sighed, then chuckled, wondering why he was surprised the little
gràineag
would be demanding in bed. “Like this?” he whispered tightly, pressing into her then retreating, then advancing again when he realized he still could. And what small amount of blood was left in his brain suddenly shot straight to his groin when she pulled the pillow back over her face and crested again, and Ian saw the light of damn near every sun in the universe sweeping toward them.