Behind the Plaid (16 page)

“Yes, you do,” I whispered, unable to find my voice beyond the racing of my heart.

I heard him drop the things he’d been holding, but I didn’t look to see. I was too mesmerized by his face, the way he was looking at me. Hungrily.

Logan grasped my hips and lifted me, sitting me on the table.
A burst of excitement made me hiss through my teeth. With firm pressure, his fingers slid from my hips, down my thighs to my knees. He pushed them apart. My sex was instantly wet, knowing whatever he had in mind, I would enjoy. I felt helpless, and yet, I soared. A contradiction in itself.

I chewed on my lip, but only for a second, because within the next, he’d pressed his body between my thighs and his lips to mine. Logan’s kiss was possessive, hot. His tongue swept in to rub tantalizingly against
mine, and he growled like he’d been waiting to feast on me for hours.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, and inched my hips closer to his, wanting to feel the hard pressure of his body against me. Logan didn’t make me suffer long.
Gripping his belt, he yanked it to the side, moving the fur pouch he kept at his hip out of the way. He gripped my thighs, and hauled me closer. His cock pressed against me, long, rigid, and I wanted desperately to rip at my skirts, at his kilt and let him come inside me. Even if it hurt. I was desperate for him. Desperate to feel what our joining would be like. If it was half as good as his kiss, I was in for a euphoric ride.

“I want you,” I murmured against his mouth, surprised at myself.

“Oh, Emma…” he groaned. “Ye have no idea, lass.”

Threading my fingers through his hair, I tugged him closer, our tongues slicking back and forth.

He pushed me back on the table, hands on my breasts. Wrenching open my cloak, he tugged the gown down so my nipples popped out. A cold wash of air hit my breasts, making me shiver, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want him to stop.

“Ye look beautiful in this gown,” he murmured. “And out of it.” He smiled, so sexy, so filled with sensual promise, my insides quivered.

Logan bent over me, cock pressed tight to my sex, and he took my nipple into his mouth, sucking gently at first and then hard. I whimpered, writhed. He ground his arousal against me, sending frissons of delicious pleasure ricocheting through me. Where he licked and sucked my breasts, shots of pleasure fired toward my clitoris, which throbbed in desperate need of climax.

I kneaded his scalp, moaned with e
ach delicious lick, even undulated my hips with his. I was coming undone in his arms. The surrounding cabin walls seemed to close in tight, cocooning us in an equally magical embrace. Logan was bringing all of my fantasies to life. The few romances I’d been able to secretly read, the depths of the heroine’s emotions, the heat of their desire for one another, it was all here on this table firing between Logan and I.

“Logan, please,” I begged for it, without shame. I wanted, craved
, pulsing satisfaction.

“Tell me, lass. Tell me ye need what I can give.” His words were gruff against my flesh, firing another shot of pleasure to my throbbing
groin.

“I need it. I need you.”

He grunted, and crashed his mouth down on mine. His fingers slid up my naked thigh, pushing my gown up as he went. He parted the folds of my sex, slipped his fingers inside me, rubbed my clit with the pad of his thumb. I cried out, bucking my hips upward. He had the magic touch, knew how to stroke me into oblivion and we’d only just met. How was it possible? Like we were made for each other.

I was so close, right on the edge, waiting for one more aching push and I’d be soaring into ecstasy.
But he stopped.

I gasped my shock as he slid his fingers from my pulsing channel, skimmed them down my thigh, gave one last smacking kiss to my breast and stood.

“Wh—what are you doing?” I asked, feeling heat fill my cheeks.

He grinned mischievously. “What’s the matter, lass?”

I didn’t know how to respond, could tell he was goading me.

“I… Did I do something wrong?” Noticing how his eyes roved over my exposed thighs, I
pushed my dress down as I sat up.

“Ye did everything right.”

“Then why did you stop?”

“’Tis part of it.”

Exasperation made me push him further. Perhaps further than I should. “Part of what?”

“Part of what I’m teaching ye.”

I frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“The more your body craves release, the better your release will be.” He skimmed his lips against my cheek, his stubble scraping lightly over my skin. “I want ye to think of me all the rest of the day,” he whispered against my ear. I closed my eyes and shivered. “I want your body quivering, clenching, waiting to feel me
to touch ye once more.”

So, he meant to torture me. Sexual torture. I squeezed my thighs together, feeling the aching pulse, wanting desperately to grab his face and shove him between my thighs.

When I opened my eyes, Logan was watching me. He chuckled. “I can almost hear your thoughts, lass. Dinna worry overmuch… The sun will set soon, and then I’ll show ye how to relieve yourself.”

I swallowed hard, unsure if I really wanted to make myself come. I liked it s
o much when he did it. To think just a few days ago, I wouldn’t have even thought something like that.

Logan gripped my hand and pulled me down from the table.
My legs were unsteady, my body still clenched tight with wanting.

“You have an un-
canny knack for diverting my attention,” I grumbled, still a little perturbed at his
lesson
.

“How so?”

“Instead of answering my questions, you laid me down on a table intent on ravishing me.”

“Do ye feel ravished?”

The way the word
ravished
rolled off his tongue was so sensual, I shivered, wanted to hear him say it again.

“No.”

“Ye dinna?”

I folded my arms over my chest and shook my head. “Only teased.”

Logan laughed. “Then ’twas well done on my part.”

I huffed a breath, realizing I wasn’t going to win this argument, and then my face flamed with heat because I was arguing with a man about whether or not he’d
finish seeing to my sexual appetite. Traveling back in time had apparently completely stripped me of all morals and decency.

And, I didn’t give
a shit. When I figured out how to get through that gate and back to my own time—and part of me was starting to question whether or not I wanted to return—Logan wasn’t coming with me, but his lessons were and I could start all over again.

If that was the case
, I needed these lessons. Needed the confidence he’d somehow slowly begun to build within me. Logan made me feel strong, desired…worth it.

Logan chuckled and tapped my nose. “Ye know I can practically read your thoughts.”

I winged a haughty brow. “Then what am I thinking?”

“How much ye want me to lick your hot little cun
ny and how much that disturbs ye.” He pressed me up against a wall, pushed my arms up over my head. “Am I right?”

I couldn’t do anything but nod my head in agreement.

“Well, I wouldna want to disappoint ye.” With that, he dropped to his knees and pressed his face against my skirts. Thrusting my dress up around my hips, the heat of his mouth found my sweet spot. He blew hotly, nuzzled me until my legs shook and my cries filled the room. Not once did his tongue touch me. “Dinna peak, lass.”

How unfair that he was ordering me not to finish—I was so damn close. I gasped in air, could barely breath
e.

“Oh, please, let me…”

“Tonight, not now.” And again, he backed away. But this time I was in an even worse state. I was so wet, my desire dripped down my thighs. So close to coming that my clit pulsed and fired off little twinges of pleasure. If I moved, I might come. If he looked at me in that possessive way, I was sure to break apart. But I didn’t, not even when he looked at me like he would devour me. My body obeyed his demand.

“How do ye feel now, lass?” he asked, leaning close enough for me to feel his hot breath on my cheek. I closed my eyes in silent surrender.

“Worse.”

He laughed and then kissed me. “Even better.”

Chapter Twelve

Emma

W
hen we left the captain’s quarters, I prayed I didn’t look like I felt—a hot, horny mess. I followed Logan from room to room as he checked for hidden doorways and safes. He broke into more chests and desks, each time finding at least one thing he found worthy enough to tuck into the leather satchel he carried on his shoulder.

The mystery of Gealach was intoxicating.
My curiosity overflowed, but I kept my questions to myself. When we got back to Gealach, maybe I could somehow seduce him into telling me.

Only thing was,
that idea was likely to get me into trouble. Logan wasn’t the type to be tricked and already he was suspicious of me.

“Are ye ready to head back?” he asked after giving last minute instructions to his men.

I nodded.

“Do ye want me to go first?”

“In case I fall, you can fish me out of the loch?” I asked with a smile.

“I wasn
a going to put it that way, lass, but in a word, aye.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I ducked my head, trying to hide my face.

Logan tossed the leather satchel into the waiting boat below, then swung over the rail. His muscles rippled and my eyes were glued to his nude legs, and the flash of muscular thighs his kilt afforded me. No wonder women loved men in kilts. Maybe I should have gone first and then I could have seen
everything
as he climbed down the ladder.

I wanted to groan. What the hell? I needed to get away from him.
Needed something else to distract myself with. As soon as we got back to Gealach I would find Agatha. I needed to ask her about the man I’d seen by the gate. Had to find out who he was, where he came from. He was just about the same age my brother would have been had he lived. I knew it wasn’t possible, he couldn’t be the same… But if there were such a thing as time-travel, or reincarnation, or something, maybe a part of the man was Trey. Ordinarily, I would have thought it was a long shot—but
I
had traveled through time. Anything was possible.

Fairies
and elves could be real. The black hole in the middle of the ocean, maybe it really did strand people on deserted islands. Who the hell knew, certainly not me. The world was unquestionably altered. What I thought I’d known, believed in, was not the same anymore. I was no longer the same woman.

“Lass?” I jerked up, realizing I’d been completely consumed by my thoughts. One of Logan’s men held out his hand to me, which I took, glad that touching him didn’t
create the same sensations that touching Logan did.

He lifted me easily over the side and didn’t let go until I was comfortable enough to climb down. However rough and violent these Highlanders were in battle, they were extremely gentle to me, and I hoped to their own women.

Descending wasn’t nearly as hard as climbing. I suppose gravity was on my side, pulling me down. Logan gripped my waist when I was close and lifted me into the boat.

“Did ye like the
galleon?” he asked.

“Yes.” I liked the ship. I liked what he did to me on the ship. I liked learning to climb the rope, learning a little more about myself and even Logan. “Do you have a lot of enemies?”

He frowned and pulled the oars from their slots. “A man does not like to admit such a thing. My enemies are the enemies of a ghost.” His words were so ominous.

“Really?”

The oars splashed into the water, spraying a little onto my hands that rested on the rims of the boat.

“I’ve never done anything but what my king asked of me.”

I realized then, Logan was never going to answer my questions. He would dance around them. I’d have to get better at this game of riddle-speak or I’d be forever lost.

“Well, that’s a shame,” I
responded, staring up at the mountains. Snow topped the tips. A killer ski slope, if I were interested. Which I wasn’t. The first time I went skiing, I fell the entire way down the hill. Rolled like a snowball. I refused to go up again, telling my family I’d wait in the lodge with a hot steaming cup of cocoa. They tried to tell me it wasn’t that bad, that most people fell the first few times. I listened for a moment, thinking they had a point until a girl flew past us, fell and sliced her head open on someone else’s skis. That was it for me. I prayed that there wasn’t any reason for Logan to require that I ski. Nowhere that we were forced to go. Did Highlanders ski?