Chapter Eighteen

Dinner at Everest with Erica… How can I describe it? The best date ever can't apply since we are not romantically involved. Why, then, did I insist on taking her to a posh restaurant? I've given up worrying about that—for the moment. For one night, I'm letting myself enjoy spending time with her and sharing a gourmet meal with the only woman who has ever made me feel lust and tenderness in equal measure.

Now, we're standing on her front porch having just returned from our date that wasn't a date. Erica wears a designer dress fashioned from emerald silk that clings to her body but leaves just enough room for the fabric to move with her instead of plastering to her skin. Her already beautiful body looks even more enticing in that frock. The neckline plunges between her breasts, giving me a tantalizing view of those bonnie tits. But it's the slit in the dress's skirt that makes my mouth water, the way it extends halfway up her thigh.

The lass belongs in expensive clothes. Though she'd been uncomfortable with the idea of me buying a designer dress for her, once she'd recovered from the shock, she seemed to enjoy trying on different frocks and stepping out of the fitting room to show me every single dress.

Erica leans back against the door to her house, inhaling deeply, her lips curving into a relaxed smile. The word beautiful can't adequately describe her when she smiles that way, like she hasn't a care in the world.

I know she does have cares—and worries, and fears. I've witnessed the sudden shifts in her mood, but as much as I want to know everything about her, I can't do it. Giving her the wrong idea about us will only lead to heartache.

She sweeps her gaze up and down my body, and her smile warms with desire.

Aye, she likes the suit I'm wearing. I know this because she told me so when I'd picked her up for our date that's not a date. Erica had told me, "You look soooo hot in a spiffy grey suit. Makes me want to fondle and lick you everywhere." Oh aye, her statement had made me as randy as a teenage virgin, but I marshaled all my willpower to keep myself from taking her right there in her living room, or on the porch, or in the car, or on the table where we shared a meal.

We didn't have a private table, but I still would've loved to shag her right there in full view of everyone and with a stunning view of Chicago through the picture window beside us. Getting arrested would've been worth it. Besides, my brother Rory is a lawyer.

My focus returns to the present when Erica speaks.

"Dinner was amazing," she says.

Aye, it had been. We shared a bottle of champagne, but Erica daintily sipped it instead of letting herself fully enjoy it. I'd told her to "indulge yourself, mo leannan," but she still held back. I held back too, but only from thinking about why I kept calling her my sweetheart. It was a pet name, nothing more.

I slant toward Erica to brace one hand on the door frame beside her, then duck my head near hers. "You are so bloody beautiful."

"The dress makes the woman," she says, glancing down at her feet.

"You've got it the wrong way round," I tell her while coiling a lock of her hair around my finger. I brush the lock's tip across her lips. "You make the dress, gràidh."

Releasing that lock of hair, I slip a finger under the slender strap of her frock, whisking it up and down. My breaths come faster and shallower, as if the slightest touch of her skin on mine excites me more than anything ever has before. It's true. She does excite me like no other woman could. Not even drinking an entire bottle of Talisker could intoxicate me the way Erica does.

I glide my finger up and down her skin. "I'm positive you'd make a paper sack look seductive."

She shivers the slightest bit, and her breath hitches.

I move my finger down to the neckline of her dress, skimming it along the slope of one breast. She follows the movements of my finger with her eyes while I dip it into the valley between her breasts. With a long, sighing groan, I lift my hand to catch her chin with it, encouraging her to meet my gaze. Rubbing my lips over hers, I dart my tongue out to taste her skin. Another, deeper groan rumbles out of me.

Bod an Donais, every inch of her body tastes as good as sweet cream and honey.

Erica yawns, then grimaces and clutches her hands over her belly. "Sorry."

"Don't be." I cradle her cheek in my palm, resting my forehead on hers. "We've had a long day—wonderful, but long—and you're jeeked." I step back and prop my shoulder against the door frame, then sweep a hand over my eyes. "I am too."

She smiles. "Jeeked means exhausted, I'm guessing."

"Aye." I reach out to caress her cheek, and without thinking about it, I smile too. Every day I do more and more things that suggest I have tender feelings for her, but that will never happen. Even if I wanted a relationship with Erica, I'm far too damaged for it to work out. I'd cock it up, and she would wind up hating me.

Erica deserves someone who appreciates her, a man who can give her everything she deserves. That man is not me.

She digs her keys out of the emerald clutch I'd insisted on buying for her since it matches her dress. The little purse is studded with real emeralds. Shoving the key in the lock, she hesitates and peers over her shoulder at me. "Wanna come in?"

She can't want sex, not when she's jeeked. Why else would she ask me to come in? I stare at her, unable to move a muscle except to speak."Are you sure?"

"Uh-huh." She unlocks the door and pushes it inward. "I'm not that tired."

She yawns, her mouth gaping open so far I can see her back molars.

Not that tired? Rubbish.

I settle a hand on her back, between her shoulder blades. "I would love to come in, but no sex tonight. You're far too tired."

"Losing interest already?"

"Never." I skate my hand up to her neck and gently knead her nape, gratified by the way she relaxes into my touch, giving up the pretense of not being exhausted. I kiss her cheek. "I plan on debauching you plenty tomorrow. But for tonight, I'd be honored just to sleep beside you."

She gazes at me, not blinking, her lips parted. But it isn't desire triggering that expression. It's surprise.

I suppose the lass can't believe I'd want to sleep with her, actually sleep, with no sex involved. It does contradict my claim that all I want is a four-week fling, but I don't give a toss. For one night, I need to lie in bed with her and fall asleep with her body nestled against mine.

Erica shuffles into the house.

I follow and shut the door.

A furry body sails through the air at us.

Casey lunges right past Erica to tackle me. I stumble but stay upright and ruffle the pup's hair with vigorous strokes while havering to Casey the way dogs love.

"Do you have a dog at home?" Erica asks.

"No, but I always had them growing up." I straighten, and Casey switches his attention to his mistress, greeting her with a slap of his tongue on her hand. I scratch the back of my neck, eyes averted. "My wife did not like animals."

Casey nuzzles Erica's hand, whimpering and wagging his tail.

"He wants a snack," she tells me, then heads for the kitchen with the pup following close behind.

I trail after them and can't help smiling when Erica retrieves a plastic bag from the refrigerator and tosses small pieces of some sort of meat to Casey. "What is that you're feeding him?"

"Raw chicken gizzards. Casey loves them." With a playful smile, she holds out her palm, and I see one gizzard seated in it. "Wanna try some?"

"No, thank you. I had raw sheep intestines for breakfast."

Her nose crinkles. "Please tell me that's a joke. It's hard to tell. I mean, you Scots love haggis which looks like something a dinosaur barfed up."

"Maybe I'll cook haggis for you sometime. You might like it."

"Doubtful."

She goes back to tossing chicken gizzards to the dog, who clearly loves his snack.

When she's finished, I raise my brows and smirk. "Planning to touch me with those hands?"

She wiggles them in the air. "Yep. Still want to sleep with me?"

"That's why God made antiseptic soap. Besides, I've been all over that body several times, in the most intimate ways."

She turns away from me to wash her hands in the sink.

I come up behind Erica to grasp her shoulders, resting my chin on the crown of her head, and coast my hands down her arms with deliberate slowness, relishing the feel of her skin, the warmth and softness of it against my rougher palms. I barely hear it when she sucks in a shallow breath. When I reach her wrists, I pause there for a moment with my thumbs over the pulse points, then I move my hands to envelop hers.

With our fingers interlaced, I nuzzle her hair. "We'll risk the germs together. Eh, lass?"

"That's a strange thing to say to a woman you're trying to seduce."

A chuckle vibrates in my chest. "Told you, I only want to sleep together tonight." I rotate our joined hands so the warm tap water sluices over them, rinsing away the soap. "Besides, I've already seduced you."

She gazes at the water splashing over her hands with an almost lustful look on her face, making me wonder what she's imagining right now.

My attention falls to her breasts, and the familiar hunger flares to life again. "In the morning, I promise to ravish you with multiple orgasms. Tonight…"

I sweep her up into my arms and saunter out of the kitchen, through the living room, straight down the hallway to Erica's bedroom.

She raises her head, scrutinizing me. "How did you know where my bedroom is?"

"You mean because this is the first time you've invited me into your bedroom?" I set her down on her feet, and she wobbles on her high heels, though only for a second. I tuck a wild lock of hair behind her ear. "It was common logic, sweet. Your house has one hallway with two doors down it. One of those doors had to be your bedroom."

"Oh." She hunches her shoulders.

"Bit suspicious, aren't you?" I study her for a moment, wondering what in her past makes her paranoid now. I don't need to know. So I give up thinking about it and start undoing my tie. "Imagine you have your reasons."

I shed my tie and jacket, then begin to unbutton my shirt. After freeing the second button, I hesitate with my fingers on the third button and eye her clothing. "Are you planning to sleep in that dress?"

She blinks several times in quick succession but stays rooted in place with her arms hanging slack at her sides. Her jaw is slack too.

Is she staring at me because I'm undressing? It shouldn't be a shock.

"But, uh, y-y—" she stammers. "Are you going to, uh, keep your boxer shorts on or something?"

I tip my head to the side, my lips ticking up at the corners. "Last night I stripped us both naked and did wicked things to you for hours. Now you're shy about seeing the full monty?"

Still paralyzed, she chews on her lip. "Well, see, nudity feels kind of different tonight. We're not doing anything, and besides, last night you undressed me while I was blindfolded which is kind of different and—"

I surge forward to seal my mouth over hers and silence her havering. When she opens her mouth to me, I want to kiss her deeply—but that would lead to sex. Instead, I pull away, giving up her lips. "If you like, I'll handle the task of removing your dress from your supple little body myself." I bend to graze my lips down her throat while I trail my fingers down her arms. "Would ye like me to?"

"Yes."

I settle my hands on her hips and slide them around to the small of her back, then skate them up her spine until I can reach the zipper on her dress. She sucks in a breath when I tickle her bare skin with my fingertips. While I pull the zipper down in slow motion, I let my fingers flit over her flesh. Once I've exposed her entire back, I flatten my palms on her skin and tug her closer.

The warmth of her penetrates my shirt, and her natural scent teases my senses.

"Soft as silk," I purr into her ear, then I push my hands under the fabric to spread the dress wide.

I angle toward her slightly as I flick the straps off her shoulders. The dress tumbles down to pool around her feet. I take half a step back, raking my gaze over Erica's body and her bra and knickers, all that remains of her clothing. "Take off the rest."

My voice sounds rough even to my ears.

Erica shimmies out of her bra and knickers. When she kicks her shoes off, I find myself licking my lips like a beast about to pounce on his prey.

I get rid of my shirt, trousers, socks, and shoes faster than I ever have in my life, paying no mind to the clunks that ensue as everything I discard sails down to the floor or lands on a chair or the dresser. Now naked, I pause to catch my breath. Stripping at lightning speed takes a lot out of a bloke.

Erica's hand rises to her throat, and her fingers stroke her skin.

I want to be the one stroking her that way, everywhere on her body.

"To bed," I all but snarl.

She tosses the blanket and top sheet out of the way and drops onto her back on the bed, one arm bent above her head.

That pose, combined with the hungry look on her face, makes me need to shag her like mad. But I will not do that tonight. I might be a bastard for the way I've treated Erica so far, but I never renege on my word.

I crawl over her body on hands and knees, settling in beside her on my back. Then I tug the covers over us both. "Good night, Erica."

She swivels her head toward me, pushing up on one elbow while giving me a peevish look. "How do you expect me to sleep?"

Despite my slat twitching, I assume the appearance of relaxation. "Now you've got something to look forward to in the morning."

She slugs my arm, but I barely feel it. "Jackass."

Only then do I turn to gaze at her with feigned innocence. "There's no need for insults, gràidh."

"You got me all wound up on purpose." She flops back onto the mattress amid a flutter of sheets and a faint puffing sound from her pillow. "You're a tease."

"No, I'm an inveterate seducer. Remember?"

"Hmph."

I lift one arm, making room for her. "Come here."

She gives me a fake scowl, then cuddles up against my side. The lass glances at the covers, which are now tented by my erection, and squirms a little.

"Shh," I murmur, lowering my arm to cradle her close. "I'll help you relax."

Before she can complain again, I begin to hum softly. It's an old Scottish lullaby my mother used to sing to me when I was a wee laddie, but I won't try to sing it. Not sure I remember all the words, and I have no singing talent. As for humming, I can manage that passably.

Erica stretches an arm across my chest, snuggling closer, her cheek pasted to my skin. Her lids gradually slide shut, and her body slackens.

While she drifts down into the peace of slumber, I whisper to her, "Sleep well, mo leannan."