Chapter Twenty-One

For the next three days, I avoid Erica as much as possible. My revelation that I have deeper feelings for her than I'd realized has left me raw and edgy. I do not love her. I can't. My wounds go far too deep to ever be healed, not even by the love of a good woman like Erica.

Does she love me? I pray she doesn't, because I will break her heart.

Every evening, I stop by to say good night to Erica. She always invites me to stay, with or without sex, but I decline. Distance from her is what I need, but keeping away makes me even edgier. When she asks me what I'm "up to" all day, alone in my house, I inform her I have important video calls to take care of, via something called Skype, and I don't have the time to entertain her.

She winces when I use the word entertain.

I've hurt her feelings, but I can't help that.

Twice, my mobile rings with the caller ID announcing it's Aisley ringing me. I don't answer. Instead, I block her number and delete it from my contacts list.

My video calls are real. I've been consulting with Rory that way, which was his idea. He claims he needs to see me and make sure I haven't become "a recluse who doesn't bathe or bother with clothes anymore." I dress the way I always have, and I shower every morning.

"But you sound grumpier than everyone says I do," Rory tells me on the second day since I started hiding from Erica. "Are you competing for the title of Ogre of Loch Fairbairn?"

"I don't live in Loch Fairbairn, but even if I did, I could never take that title away from you."

"But you are fashed about something, Lachlan."

"Donnae be telling anyone else that. I'm fine."

We say goodbye, though Rory refuses to accept my claim that nothing is fashing me. I can't tell him I've done the one thing I swore never to do again. I've gotten entangled with a woman.

On the third morning, Rory and I have another video call. During every call, I have paced the width of the living room while behaving like the ogre Rory thinks I've become. Maybe I have been acting like a selfish bod ceann, at least where Erica is concerned.

Rory's investigator has been having trouble rooting out the reason for the "clerical error" that's cocked up the divorce proceedings. Rory has repeatedly assured me he will sort the mess. But today, on the third morning of my voluntary incarceration in Gil's house, Rory has news.

But it's not what I want to hear.

"Aisley is taking advantage of the clerical error," Rory says, "to renegotiate the divorce settlement."

"What? She cannae do that."

"Relax, Lachlan. We will sort this, but it might take time."

"Time? I gave her twelve years of my life. That's all she gets."

Rory sighs. "I don't suppose I can convince you to tell me what happened between you and Aisley."

My silence gives him my answer.

"All right," he says. "But if you want this to be over soon, you might need to sweeten the pot."

"The bitch gets nothing," I shout. "Nothing. Ye hear me, Rory?"

"Aye. We'll keep at it."

I say goodbye to Rory and glance out the window.

Erica has just hopped off the porch and is scurrying back to her house.

Had she been at the front door while I was talking to Rory? She couldn't have overheard most of our conversation, but I had roared those last words about the bitch getting nothing.

I can't worry about Erica right now. My call with Rory has not eased my anxieties. I head into the kitchen to grab a piece because stress always makes me hungry.

But no food tastes as good as Erica.

I do not love her. I'm incapable of feeling that way. But I do like her and want her. Bod an Donais, do I want her, even more after spending three days away from the lass, three days without touching, kissing, and shagging her. My good-nights have been brief and chaste, but tonight, I need to drown my tangled emotions in the body of the sweet, sensual woman next door.

I did promise to surprise her. She gave me a key to her house, so she must want me to sneak in and fuck her.

The more I try not to think about Erica's body and the look on her face when she comes, the more I need to go over there. My slat is firming up already, which means I'll either need to wank off or…

Sneak into Erica's house.

I grab something from the kitchen, then leap off the sofa and race out the door, heading straight for Erica's house. As I approach her porch, I slow to a walk. It's after sunset, so I have the cover of night to help me. At the door, I press my ear to the surface and listen, but I can't tell if she's in the living room. Unlocking the door, I slip inside and shut it quietly. The living room and kitchen are dark, but I see a light on in the bedroom. Hurrying down the hall, I stop just past the threshold.

Casey lies at the foot of the bed, sleeping. He opens his eyes to look at me, thumping his tail twice.

I scratch behind his ears, which makes him thump his tail again. When I pull my hand away, the pup closes his eyes and goes back to sleep.

Erica's clothes lie in a lump on the floor, and I hear the shower running. I take a moment to prepare the rest of her surprise.

"Lachlan, yes!"

That cry came from the bathroom, but it didn't sound distressed. No, Erica shouted those words with a hunger that makes my cock go hard. I crouch to dig out the condom packet I'd stashed in my jeans pocket, then I get rid of my clothes and roll the condom on.

I walk into the bathroom and push the shower door open.

Erica yelps, dropping the showerhead she'd been holding to her groin. It clatters on the tile floor.

My gaze flicks to her hand positioned inches from her groin, and lower to the discarded showerhead, then gravitates back to her face. The flush of arousal dapples her cheeks and chest, and her nipples are rigid.

Aye, she was wanking off while thinking of me. I'm certain of that.

I tip my head to the side, gazing straight into her eyes. "Screaming my name, and I haven't even touched you yet."

Erica fumbles to hook the showerhead back in its clip but misses. "W-what are you doing here?"

"Surprising you."

I saunter into the shower, backing her up to the wall, and raise her hand to hold the showerhead at my shoulder level. Hot water drizzles down our bodies, between our bodies, beading on her breasts and spraying up to soak my body and my hair.

The showerhead slips from her fingers.

I catch it. "I see ye started without me."

"What happened to your all-important Skype stuff?"

"Hell with it." I grasp her hip with one palm, the showerhead clasped in my other hand. "I'd ask what ye were thinking of just now, but ye gave me a good clue when ye shouted my name."

She ducks her head, and her chin almost touches her chest.

I brush my cheek against hers. "Don't be embarrassed. I've climaxed while daydreaming of you too."

She peeks up at me. "Really?"

"Aye."

"I like that." When I run my thumb over the sweet spot just next to her hip bone, she tilts her head up. "I'm glad you're here."

"Cannae stay away." I should be able to do that, but I can't, not with her. "I donnae know why, it's never happened to me before. I…missed you."

She rakes her fingers through my hair. "I missed you too."

I make a rough sound deep in my throat, part lust, part raw emotion. She missed me. I love hearing her say that, and for tonight, I won't worry about what that means.

I snap the showerhead into its clip on the wall. "Ye won't be needing this anymore."

Flipping her around, I crush her to the wall with my body and nudge her feet apart. Her mouth has fallen open, and her breaths come faster. I'm breathing harder too, so desperate to feel her around me that I can't think about anything except fucking her. I push one hand in front of her to work her clit, already swollen and slick for me. She rocks into my caress, slapping her palms on the tile wall while I pinch her nub.

She cries out.

I rub harder. "I need you, Erica."

Cannae hold back anymore. I pull my hips back and drive into her.

She throws her head back.

I growl into her ear, "Ye've got to be mine, only mine."

No time to examine what I just said. Lust has me in its scorching grip, and I slam into her again, pumping with relentless force and speed. She gouges her nails into the tile walls while our sharp breaths reverberate around us and wet skin slaps against wet skin. The scent of her arousal fills my senses even through the steamy haze of the water sluicing over us. My heels lift off the floor with every thrust, flattening her against the wall.

"Erica," I growl, dropping my chin to her shoulder. Words burst out of me, punctuated by grunts. "Ah, God, mo leannan, yer so soft and sweet and—och!"

"Don't stop, please."

"I willnae." With our bodies glued together, I pound into her harder, faster, teetering on the edge of climax. "Come fer me now, gràidh."

"Lachlan, yes!" Her inner muscles clench me over and over.

Bod an Donais, her orgasm hurtles me over the edge too. My bagais slap on her erse as I unleash everything inside her body, my feral cries resonating off the walls. I sag against her back, my lips on her shoulder. "Now that's how you scream my name."

"A shower was supposed to relax me."

I lift her hand to kiss the palm. "Are you saying I haven't relaxed you?"

"Oh, you sure did. Just not in the way I'd planned." She wriggles around to face me. "We probably scared Casey half to death with our caterwauling."

"Men don't caterwaul. We give masculine shouts of appreciation."

She holds my face in her hands and kisses me. It's a raw, primal kiss that leaves us both breathless. We ravage each other's mouth while I grope every inch of her body and she does the same to me. I never want the kiss to end, but we'll both pass out from lack of oxygen if we don't stop.

We peel our lips apart.

Moments ago, I said I wanted her to be mine and only mine. Should I tell her I didn't mean it? But I did mean those words, and I don't want to lie to her. I can't assure her I was speaking the truth either, though, because she'll think I want more than four weeks with her.

Aye, I do want more. Much more.

Barking erupts in the bedroom.

That's not a playful bark. Casey is upset.

I shut off the water and hustle to the bathroom door. "Casey, what's the bother?"

The pup stands at the window with his front paws on the sill.

Erica hurries out of the bathroom wearing a towel.

Casey's barking becomes growling. His lips, flapping from the ferocity of his snarls, draw back from his sharp canine teeth.

I race to the window and jerk the curtains aside.

"What is it?" Erica asks, hurrying to my side.

A shocked face gawps back at us from the other side of the glass. Presley the bod ceann spins around and takes off running.

I yank my jeans on and sprint out of the house.

"Wait!" Erica yells, running after me.

Hurling the door open, I gallop into the night.

Casey rockets past me and latches onto Presley's trouser leg, snarling and preventing the cacan from fleeing. Presley tries to kick at the dog but loses his balance and stumbles.

I seize Presley's shirt and hoist him off the ground.

"Casey!" Erica shouts, clapping her hands until the dog detaches his teeth from Presley's trouser leg.

The dog scampers over to her.

I shake Presley hard.

He sputters and flails his fists at me but can't land a punch on anything more sensitive than my biceps. The bloody ersehole is a weakling too. I'm hardly surprised by that fact. I doubt a spoiled bastard like him has ever lifted anything heavier than a wine glass.

Erica herds Casey into the house, shutting the door after him.

"What the hell do ye think yer doing?" I roar while rattling the cacan again. "Spying on a wee lass? I'm gonnae skite mah fist on yer face till yer spitting teeth."

"I was looking for Erica, that's all," Presley whines.

"Haud yer wheesht, ye bloody bawbag!" My spittle spatters Presley's face. "Ye've been rummeled this time, and ye willnae get away with it."

"With what?" The ereshole's voice squeaks faintly. "I haven't done anything. You're the one going ape shit and hollering nonsense. I came to see Erica, heard a weird noise, and checked it out."

"And then yer erse fell off." My breaths huff out my nostrils, and I can't stop my lips from curling with disgust. "Means yer a liar, ye eejit."

Erica sprints up to me and slaps her hands on my left arm. "Put him down, Lachlan. Please."

I rotate my gaze to her but maintain my grip on Presley.

She squeezes my arm. "Do it for me."

Grudgingly, I unlatch my fingers from the bod ceann's shirt.

Presley crumples to the ground in a jumble of legs and arms.

I swipe my palms together like I'm ridding myself of his filth and tip my chin up, aiming a flinty glare at the man lying in a heap on the grass.

Presley scrambles to his feet and flounders to straighten out his disheveled clothes.

I hold my ground, shoulders back, my fingers twitching from the urge to throttle the bastard.

Erica steps sideways between me and the cacan.

Presley glowers at her. "Still screwing Scotch Tape, huh? Shouldn't he get back to the zoo? Bet the girl gorillas miss him real bad."

"Shut up," Erica snaps. She lodges her hands on her hips and scowls at him. "What on earth is wrong with you? I know you're the lowest level of scum in the pond, but I never pegged you for a peeping tom. What, you haven't ruined my life enough?"

"I did nothing." Presley sets his lips in a defiant line. "You did it all to yourself."

"You know what? You're right. I did do this to myself." She jabs a finger at him. "I trusted you."

He rolls his eyes.

What the bloody hell did this man do to her? How could he ruin her life? I can't believe she means that in an offhanded way. He must have hurt her badly, which might mean she still has feelings for him.

No, Erica is too clever for that. And she clearly despises him.

So do I.

Baring my teeth, I crack my knuckles and slant forward, ready to launch myself at the bastard.

Erica edges closer to me, splaying her hands on my chest. "Let me handle this, okay? Trust me."

I do trust her, so I take one step back. "If he makes a move toward ye, I willnae be responsible fer what I do."

"If he makes a move, you have my permission to skelp him till he's roadkill."

"Hey!" Presley waves his arms. "I'm still here, ya know."

Erica whirls on him. "I'm aware of that. Maybe I should call the cops to report a prowler."

"Who do you think they'll believe?"

She stares at Presley for several seconds, her determined expression melting into something akin to shame. Her eyes swivel to me.

I squint at Presley, drilling my gaze into him.

Turning to Presley, she points at the Alfa Romeo parked along the curb. "Get out of here."

He sneers at me.

I clench my fists and squint at him again.

Presley's face pales, and his smirk falters. He scurries to the Alfa Romeo.

Neither Erica nor I speak or move until the sports car zooms out of sight, the purring of its engine fading into the night.

Erica's knees buckle.

I swoop in to gather her into my arms before she hits the ground. The rush of adrenaline must have flooded out of her, weakening her body.

"Easy." I press a kiss on her forehead. "Slow, deep breaths."

I carry her to the door and open it without letting go of her. Casey follows us into the bedroom where I lay Erica down on the bed. The sheets are already pulled back, and her body crushes the soft, slippery rose petals I had scattered across the bed before I joined her in the shower.

She pushes up on one elbow, blinking slowly as she takes in the sight of the pale-pink petals strewn across the bed and on the pillows.

I can't blame her for not noticing the rose petals when we came out of the bathroom. A peeping ersehole had distracted us both. Now, she surveys the room and everything I have set up for her, including candles on the dresser and the bedside table as well as a silver tray on the table that holds a plate of strawberries and a fondue bowl brimming with liquid chocolate, alongside a bottle of Cristal champagne.

When I sit down beside her, the bed jostles, the mattress sinking under my weight. I sweep my fingers down her cheek and let my thumb fall onto her lips. "This was the other part of your surprise."

"It's amazing." Erica picks up a rose petal and buries her nose in it, inhaling deeply. She skates the petal over her lips, then uses it to tickle my mouth, making my lips twitch. She twirls the petal in the air. "Thank you. I love all of my surprise."

"You're exhausted." I blow out the candles on the table. With only the ones on the dresser for illumination, shadows engulf us. "I can recreate this for you tomorrow night."

"I'm okay."

I nod at the arm propping her up. "Your arm's shaking."

"I'm still okay to—"

"No." I pat the mattress behind her. "Lie down. We're going to sleep."

"We?"

I tap a finger on her forehead. "Lie back."

She sprawls on her back amid the roses.

And I crawl over her body to stretch out alongside her, curling an arm around her shoulders to draw her close.

She turns onto her side, her head tucked against my shoulder, one hand on my chest. Her palm rises and falls with my every breath. "Tell me, why do you get so angry at Presley?"

I snort. "He harasses you, spies on you, upsets you so much you shake. And you wonder why I'm angry?"

"Good point." She sighs. "Truthfully, I kind of like it when you throttle him. Does that make me a bad person?"

"Truthfully…" I slide my fingers into her hair, combing them through the silken locks. "I rather enjoy throttling him. Am I bad, then, too?"

"No." She wriggles to snuggle even closer to me, her warm body cradled to mine. "You're not bad. You're very, very good."

I exhale a groaning sigh. "Never been a violent man, but that—that—"

"Scunner?"

"I was going to say 'ersehole,' but scunner works too." I wrap my arm tighter around her. "He's a bully, and I hate bullies. No one should try to bend another to their will just for the sake of control."

"Mm." She seems to have grown sleepy, her body slack and her eyes half-closed.

"Sleep now, sweet."

I thread my fingers through her hair again, hoping to soothe her with the gentle rhythm of the movements. Her eyelids flutter shut, and her breathing grows shallower.

Why do I assault her ex whenever I see him? He's a bastard, but I've met my share of scunners like Presley. I don't lash out at them. Yet I can't restrain myself when that cacan harasses Erica.

I am not in love with her.

She murmurs in her sleep, nestling closer to me.

My chest aches, but that means nothing. I can't love her.

Erica will be better off when I leave.