Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
“How did she get this over?” I murmured.
“A large boat.” A small, middle-aged woman appeared at my side.
“Is it worth it?”
“If your woman here buys it, it will be.” She grinned cheekily.
I smirked. “I’m afraid that’s not happening.”
Silver smacked me gently on the stomach “Hey, why not?”
“It’s not what you want.” I frowned at the piece. “It’s nothing like what you want.”
“I can’t find what I want.”
Aye, which was why I’d finished crafting it for her. It was supposed to be a surprise. “Trust me. You’ll find what you want.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Oh really?”
“Aye, really.”
“What are you up to?” She stepped into me, pressing her body to my side, her breasts pushing against my arm. “Have you done something that might be considered sweet and thoughtful, Ramsay McRae?”
My gaze dropped to her lush mouth. “Me. Never.”
Her breath hitched at the low rumble in my words. A rumble she recognized.
“Are you buying the dresser or not?” the antiques owner asked from my other side.
I almost bared my teeth at the interruption. “Not.”
Silver bit her lip to hide her amusement and leaned past me to answer politely, “That would be no, thank you.”
“Fine.” The woman made a huffing noise before she left us to engage with another customer.
Resting her hand on my chest, leaning deeper into me, Silver asked, “Did you build me a dresser?”
I sighed. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”
Her eyes lit up. “Can I see it?”
“It’s in my workshop.”
“Maybe we should leave early.” She ran her hand down my chest. “So I can see it and then thank you properly.”
My words were hoarse as I fought to control my body responding to her invitation. “Sounds like a plan.”
“How do you want your thanks?”
I narrowed my eyes and dropped my head to murmur the words against her lips. “My cock in your mouth.”
She shuddered, eyes dilating.
“Silver.” I squeezed my eyes closed and stepped back. “Not here, woman.”
Her answering smile was smug. If I stayed in her vicinity right now, I was going to find a quiet spot behind a tent somewhere to fuck her.
“I’ll see you in a few hours.” I walked away abruptly, clicking my tongue for Akiva to follow me.
“Where are you going?” Silver called after me, laughter in her voice.
Vixen.
“Music to play!” I called back. “Places to fucking be that are not near you,” I muttered. “Bloody death of me. Fucking forty years old, for fuck’s sake.”
“All right there, Ramsay?” Annie called out to me from a cheese stand. Amusement twinkled in her eyes.
“Fine.”
“An awful lot of angry muttering going on there,” she insisted, her eyes darting toward the antiques seller’s tent. “Someone got you in a bit of a tizz, has she?”
I bared my teeth at her in more of a grimace than a grin and strode off toward the stage.
Her laughter trailed behind me.
Bloody small-town living.
Why did I think moving here was a good idea?
24. Tierney
Our mingled panting filled Ramsay’s bedroom as we came down from our energetic sex and subsequent mind-blowing orgasms.
I’d felt his sexual tension all day, to the point where he’d avoided me the rest of the festival, and then practically dragged me back to his boat like a caveman. As soon as we stepped inside his house on Stòr, he was on me. I didn’t even get a chance to ask to see the dresser he’d apparently built for me.
Now, my inner muscles wouldn’t stop quivering from the strength of my climax.
“Oh God,” I moaned, pushing my hair back from my damp hairline.
The bastard Scot had brought me to the brink of orgasm so many times before pulling back until I was begging the asshole to make me come.
When he eventually did … holy fucking fuck fuck.
Yeah, I was ruined.
He’d ruined sex with other men for me for the rest of my goddamn life, and I didn’t even care. The experience with him was worth it.
Turning my head on the pillow to look at him, an aching pang lit across my chest. His eyes were closed, one arm flexed above his head on the pillow. He’d trimmed his beard so I could see all his rugged angles.
Ramsay McRae was the most beautiful man I’d ever met.
He’d scoff at that descriptor. Other people might even raise an eyebrow.
But to me he was beautiful.
And safe.
I thought of that Welsh dresser in his barn.
Maybe he wasn’t as detached from me emotionally as he’d like to make out. I threw myself out of bed and chuckled at the way I swayed a little. There was a familiar throb between my legs, and I thought of that Ariana Grande song “Side to Side” as I crossed the room to pull on Ramsay’s T-shirt.
“Where are you going?” His voice rumbled from the bedroom. He sounded relaxed. Content.
I loved that I could give him that.
“To check out my Welsh dresser.”