Obsessed (Wild Mountain Scots, #1)
Obsessed: Chapter 10

Lochinvar’s car disappeared into the mist, and I slouched indoors and fell onto my couch, draping my arm over my eyes.

For a good fifteen minutes, I just laid there, mulling over the same points.

He was not married.

He wanted me.

Casey had called earlier to ask if I’d thought any more about going on a date. She believed getting myself out there was the best test, but my mind and body rebelled against the idea.

I’d dreamed of Lochinvar.

In it, he’d tracked me down and caught me in his strong arms. He’d torn my clothes from me, and I’d…let him.

Liked it.

Woke up in a sweat.

If this was my sexual awakening, it had waited a hell of a long time to come about. I rolled up and padded to my bedroom, stripping my work suit, shirt, and underwear. Then I dove into a hot shower.

The water cascaded over my body, hitting areas that previously never registered as so sensitive. Now, I was keyed up and…what was the description my friends used? Needy?

Yeah, that.

I slid my hands down my naked flesh, lingering over my nipples before delving south. Touching myself had never been high on my agenda. I could orgasm, but it wasn’t the big deal everyone else made it out to be.

Right now, it wasn’t my hands I wanted there.

Lochinvar’s face appeared in my mind. His thick body. His piercing stare.

His mouth.

I glanced over my clit and hissed at the sensation.

Shite. That felt good.

Yet…I didn’t want to do this alone.

I killed the shower and stepped out, dragging my dressing gown over my wet body. On my bed, I towel dried my hair, considering those fresh thoughts of my burly neighbour.

A thudding shook my front door.

I jumped, and goosebumps rose on my skin. Keeping low, I snuck to the bedroom window and peered out.

Lochinvar’s broad back loomed next to my door. I sighed in relief and skipped to answer. The moment I did, Isla flew inside.

“Da’s had a call,” she announced.

I lifted my gaze to her father. He stared at me, and his focus sank to my neckline, and lower before jerking up.

I shivered.

“Isla’s right. I have to go. An entire hiking group is lost in the fog, high above Glen Durie. Will ye be okay?”

I swallowed, that pesky neediness spiking. “We’ll be fine.”

He took a step back. Then another.

“Wait,” I said. “What should I do if you’re not back by Isla’s bedtime?”

His gaze darkened. Without a word, he reached for his keys and removed the one for his cottage. I accepted it, his fingers brushing my palm.

Electricity licked me.

Lochinvar gave me one last searing, lust-laden look, then left.

Over the course of the nearly two months since Lochinvar and Isla had moved next door, the little girl had warmed to me. She still clammed up if accidentally touching on her past, but on the whole, I’d uncovered a sweet if somewhat stubborn child.

Very much her father’s daughter, though they had no outward similarities.

I dressed in a hurry and joined her in the living room. “Hungry? It’s early, so we can make something that takes longer. Maybe lasagne from scratch?”

Isla beamed and nodded, her fair curls bobbing, and she leapt from the couch and followed me into the kitchen. She seemed to enjoy the process of cooking, watching more than contributing, and she took one of the two stools at the island, placing her chin on her hands.

Normally, I’d chat away, but my brain was mush, my thoughts gone with her da. Instead, I turned on the radio and danced as I fried the mince with onions, garlic, herbs, and three kinds of tomatoes. I had Isla stir the white sauce so it didn’t curdle then help me grate the cheese.

Without even thinking, I constructed an enormous lasagne, mentally allocating the largest portion to her father.

Isla declined from helping with the salad, her protective walls rising once more, but dutifully tried all the vegetables when our meal was ready.

We ate, working through Isla’s spelling homework, then took to the couch. My home wasn’t yet kitted out for a child, and I didn’t have games or books. I didn’t want to sit her in front of the TV all evening, so there was only one thing for it.

The lion’s den.

Anticipation swirled in my belly.

I was beyond curious about this little family. Worse since Lochinvar’s confession. They were so close. He often took Isla with him on weekend hikes, then returned with his tired girl on his shoulder. She didn’t lack for anything, and it was as if they’d always been a unit, not one that missed the mother of the family.

I wondered if Lochinvar had a picture of his ex-wife anywhere.

I should mind my own business. Yet the wondering wouldn’t cease.

“Your da gave me the key to your cottage,” I said. “Would ye like to go there?”

“Aye!” Isla leapt up.

I slid my boots on as she buckled up her school shoes.

“You’re sounding more Scottish.” I ducked into the kitchen to collect the covered plate I’d readied for Lochinvar, then turned to witness Isla scowling.

“I am Scottish.” She stomped outside and waited while I locked up then moved to open her door. “Just because I never lived here until now.”

Her statement begged a question, but my lips were sealed.

We entered the house, and Isla discarded her bag and outerwear then darted down the hall.

Switching on a lamp, I peered around the living room. This cottage was the bigger of the two. Like mine, it had a wide front room that took up the width of the single-storey house, with the kitchen to the left. I’d seen the place be decorated, and not much had changed. A bookshelf held children’s stories and a few thrillers, but no framed photos perched on top. The coat hooks hosted light jackets and pairs of huge male or tiny female shoes waited underneath.

I followed Isla and hovered at the end of the bedroom hall. “Are ye okay?”

“Da says I have to get changed out of my school things when I get home. Can ye help me?”

I stepped to her door and peered in. Isla was halfway into a fluffy unicorn onesie. The wide hood sported a twisted horn and pink satin ears. The sleeves and legs ended in darker material, mimicking hooves. One of her sleeves was inside out, so I reached to reinstate it.

“You’re adorable. Did ye know the unicorn is the national animal of Scotland?”

Isla’s eyes widened. “Do they live here?”

“Only in myths and legends,” I said. “But we have a unicorn pool at the base of a waterfall. I’ll take ye there one day.”

“For my birthday?”

“When’s that?”

She hesitated, linking her hands behind her back. “In December. Next month.”

“I’ll talk to your da about it.”

She gave a little yip of excitement and skipped past me to the lounge.

But before I left her room, I caught sight of a picture frame by Isla’s bed. A woman smiled out, a much younger Isla in her arms. Without going over to take a closer look, I could only see her grin and compare it to Isla’s. But they were very alike.

That must be her mother. Presumably the woman was still alive, too, as Lochinvar hadn’t called himself a widower. Only a divorcee.

God, Isla must miss her.

In the lounge, Isla had set up a game for us to play on the rug.

My heart swelled with affection. As much as I felt a pull towards Lochinvar, the same applied to his daughter. I knew they weren’t staying past the length of his contract. Uncle Gordain would return by the end of February and take his job back. I couldn’t imagine alpha male Lochinvar accepting a lower position.

They’d leave for certain.

That set the terms for how I saw the Ross family.

I could be a friend to Isla in that time. Maybe something different with her father. But only short-lived.

Fine. Boundary set.

The evening drew on, darkness falling. The fog lifted to drizzle, yet Lochinvar still didn’t appear. I braided Isla’s bountiful blonde curls then dozed on the couch with her. Ideally, she should’ve gone to bed, but she begged to wait up to see her father.

The snick of the door woke me with a start. The TV had frozen on an ‘Are you still watching?’ screen, and Isla snored, fast asleep, snuggled close.

Lochinvar stood over us, his features barely visible in the shadowed room.

Electricity danced over my skin.

He made a low sound, then slid his arms under Isla, his cold knuckles running across my arm. In a fluid motion, he lifted her to his chest, murmuring something soft as she stirred, then he carried her from the room.

I sat up, my pulse skittering. Did I leave? Staying felt…dangerous.

But I was no coward.

After a minute, the huge man reappeared. Without lighting the lamp, he took a seat at the other end of the sofa from me. The scent of him, of cool, fresh mountain air, spread my way.

“How did it go?” My voice came out timid. Not like me at all.

Lochinvar studied me. “Good. Four souls saved. Are ye pregnant?”

I blinked at the change in topic. “Why did ye think that?”

“Isla said.”

I pieced together conversations we’d had. God, that must’ve been from when I’d told Casey and Brodie about my baby plans. “No. I’m not.”

His eyes gleamed.

Though he didn’t move, confusion and apprehension grabbed me, tightening my throat. I’d been in the position before when a man had been so obviously about to make a move on me. I hated the nervous awareness. The expectation the moment set.

The undoubted failure on my behalf to make it work.

“I’m going to have a baby with fertility treatment,” I added fast. “Donor sperm.”

Lochinvar tilted his head. “Ye dinna want a man?”

“Never been interested before.”

The statement fell between us, loaded with meaning.

“Before me.”

“Maybe.”

“Are ye a virgin?” he asked, his tone not one of teasing or accusation, but of gentle interest.

“No. I tried sex at university.”

“But ye didn’t enjoy it,” he stated. “Or more likely those ye experimented with were clueless.”

Sweat broke out on my brow, but I didn’t need to confirm his words.

Lochinvar pressed on. “What’s different about me?”

“You’re rougher. Wilder.”

His analysis continued. “Did this start with me chopping the wood or before?”

“The wood. The axe.”

“Ye like that harder side. The violence.”

Again, not a question. I slowly nodded anyway, then gave up my truth. “I have a fantasy of ye. It’s dark.”

“I can let my tastes run dark, if ye want.”

I shivered at the promise. “It’s of ye pursuing me.”

The admittance smarted. I was giving him power over me. Power he could use to humiliate me or reject me.

Lochinvar paused, considering this, then placed a hand on the sofa back and leaned in. He was so big, so broad.

My skin zinged in awareness.

Fear sprang, loading my muscles.

Fuck, he was going to kiss me. I wasn’t ready. Didn’t want this.

He brought his mouth close to my ear. “Get up.”

“What?”

“Go to the door.”

I obeyed, my frightened soul needing direction. I stepped into my shoes, no clue what was happening.

Lochinvar stalked over and grasped my waist. He manhandled my stiff body out of the way, then unlocked the door, opening it. With a finger, he pointed outside into the frigid night.

He…kicked me out?

“What…?” I stammered.

“Run, Cait.”

What the hell was he doing? And why was this working? I skipped backwards. Lochinvar took a long tread after me, his jaw clenched tight.

Those black eyes glittered.

I was looking at a predator. A threat. A dangerous animal.

Excited, I turned and bolted. My pulse skyrocketed, and I flew over the ground. Every sense trained on the danger at my back. My spine tingled, fear merging with a different state. This was nothing like the emotion I’d felt in that hall at work. No, this was…exhilarating.

I reached the cars when a heavy arm caught me.

A helpless sound burst from my throat, and Lochinvar spun me around. He gripped my biceps so I couldn’t escape and pushed me against his vehicle. Only his hand stopped me from banging my head on the metal.

With his huge frame, he caged me in, eclipsing the night.

I panted, every place we touched blazing to life with sensation. All fresh. All real and vital.

I struggled in vain.

Then Lochinvar crashed his lips onto my neck.

I opened my mouth in pure shock. The energy behind his almost-kiss-almost-bite bruised me, his beard abrading my skin. But the pain was nothing to the splintering joy.

I tried to move his lips to mine, but he didn’t budge. All I could do was receive. His mouth slid to under my ear then to my collarbone, his teeth testing my flesh.

Lochinvar’s leg forced its way between mine so I rode his thigh, my feet barely on the ground. A burst of sexual feeling spread from my core. I writhed to chase it, though barely able to move from the position he’d caught me in.

Then he dropped me.

Lochinvar stepped back, breathing hard. I staggered, nearly falling, and my chest rose and fell where I couldn’t pull in enough air.

Neither of us spoke, but the dark light in his eyes only intensified.

Lochinvar gave a snort that sounded like satisfaction, then he turned and strode to his cottage. His door slammed, and I was left alone.

The night air cooled my ardour, and I stared, seeing nothing.

It hadn’t been a real kiss, nor gentle and sweet.

What the hell was it? And why did I only want more?