SCOTTISH ROMANCE: My Sinful Surrender to a Highlander Werewolf (Scottish Werewolf Pregnancy Romance) (Historical Medieval Shape Shifter Paranormal Science Fiction Short Stories) (90 page)

I knew I was fooling myself, to some degree. I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t felt some kind of frisson between me and Tate before, even as both of us did our best to ignore it. We channelled out chemistry into platonic activites, enjoying the way we bounced off one another with ease. It was comfortable, even if my body was telling me that there was something more to this entirely.

So, I sat there, facing him, taking in his handsome, distinctive face- a strong jaw, a long nose, and bright hazel eyes looked back at me, expectantly. I realized it was my turn to speak, and all I was doing was sitting here and gawping at him like a total idiot.

“So, um, Tate,” I stumbled, lifting my wine glass to my lips to cover up my flushed cheeks. “How about your love life? Any nice ladies you want some help with?”

“You make it sound like I’m doing something creepy with them,” He laughed at me, before looking down and picking at the fabric of my couch. “And no. There’s no-on around at the moment, at least, no-one I have any chance with.”

“Oh, don’t say that!” I cajoled. “Who is she? What’s she like? Do I know her?”

His eyes met mine, and I felt a shiver of heat squirm down my spine. Why did he have this affect on me? This was Tate- just normal, average, Tate, no different from the Tate who had sat on that very couch opposite me for countless nights over the last two years. Nothing had changed, but it felt like everything was different. “I think you know her. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. What about you? How’s your dating scene?”

I sighed, blowing my bangs out of my eyes as I did so. “Oh, pretty under-populated, as ever.”

“I don’t see why you don’t have dudes battering down your door all the time,” He said, his voice careful.

“It’s not really about opportunity, it’s more about the fact that I don’t really want to date any of them.” I replied.

“Really?”

“Really. I mean, they’re nice enough, and all, but none of them do that….
thing
to me. You know? That thing that makes me actually want a second date.”

“And what might that thing be?” He asked.

I shrugged. “Damned if I know. As soon as I figure it out, I’ll start telling my dates to do whatever it is if they want to see me again. Maybe I just haven’t met the right guy yet.”

“It gets tough, I know,” he smiled. “But you’ll get there in the end. You’re right- if the people you’re going on dates with aren’t compelling you to arrange a follow-up, then they’re not the people you should be dating. Simple.”

“Ah, you make it sound so easy, Tate.” I chinked my glass up against his playfully. “But hey, you’ve certainly lasted past the first meeting!”

“I have indeed,” he replied, with pride in his voice. “Is it my amazing conversation, or my good looks that kept me around?”

“A bit of both,” I answered without thinking. Shit, did I really just say that out loud?

“Oh, really?” He raised his eyebrows at me.

“Not like that. I mean-“ I hurried, trying to cover my tracks. Damn, this wine had gone to my head.

“No, it’s okay, I get it. I’m just too devilishly charming for you to keep your head on straight.” He cocked his head at me. “Or maybe it’s the wine.”

“Probably the wine.” Hopefully the wine, I thought.

“Speaking of, I should probably think about getting home soon. I want to let out Fillion and drink a big glass of water before I go to bed.”

“Yeah, call me if you’re hungover tomorrow- we can go get some greasy friend junk to make it all go away,” I smiled as he rose to his feet. Fillion was his black Labrador, who he’d raised from a puppy, and Tate doted on him. I had never seen him stay at a party late, because he always had to get off home and make sure that his beloved Fillion was doing okay. I had always found caring about animals a very attractive trait in men, even though I was trying desperately to forget that fact right now.
It’s just the wine,
I told myself again, promising myself that tomorrow morning, all the odd feelings this man was stirring up inside of me would be gone for good. Ending up with Tate, however tantalising it sounded right now, was probably a terribly bad idea. I couldn’t imagine either of us coming out of that arrangement feeling like we weren’t awful people.

So I stood up, and guided him to the door, undoing the latch so he could get out. Smiling, he squeezed my elbow, sending another jolt of electricity along my whole body. Damn, could he feel that too?
“Take care of yourself, Erica,” he said, just as he stepped into the hall and headed for the door. I closed the latch behind him, leaning up against the wood for support as I tried to process the riotous feelings that were exploding across my body. I felt guilty for wanting him, but I did- I wanted him desperately. I didn’t know if it was just my natural curiosity coupled with my libido pushing me in his direction, but all I did know for sure was that I wanted to feel how his warm, hard body would feel against my own, how he would feel as he was-

There was a tap at the door, jolting me out of my reverie. I squinted through the keyhole. Tate? Had he forgotten something? Opening the door, I looked up at him, and realized in that moment just what he had come back for.

Leaning down, he slid one hand behind my neck and pulled me into him. Our lips met, and the feeling was explosive- nothing like the other kisses I’d had over the last few dates. His mouth was firm, and gentle, all at the same time, his tongue parting my lips and exploring the inside of my mouth. Gripping one of his strong arms, I leant into him, inhaling the scent of his skin. Once familiar, it was now studded with something darker and more needy, although I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. I didn’t care. We stood there, in the doorway to my apartment, our mouths saying everything they hadn’t been able to before he left. I couldn’t tell you how long we were kissing, but it felt like a damn had burst, as if both of us had been waiting for this for a long, long time. It felt so natural, and so right, but then I remembered that Tate had watched my husband and I kiss like this at our wedding ceremony.

I pulled away, and Tate kept a hold of me as I swayed slightly on my feet.

“Woah, there. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I-I just think I need to get to bed.” I replied, forcing myself not to look up into his dark eyes. I knew I wouldn’t be able to fight the urge to kiss him again if I did, and I needed some time to go over what had just happened in my head. He nodded, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead as he stepped out of the doorway, allowing me to close it behind him. I pressed my head into my hands as my head spun uncontrollably- what the hell had just happened? Did this mean that he wanted me the same way I wanted him? Or was this just one, tipsy kiss that we should put to the back of our minds and never speak of again as long as we live? Oh,
Jake-
my heart suddenly ached when I remembered that the last first kiss I’d had that had made me feel that alive was from him. I knew it was counter-productive, but I wanted to be able to move on from him completely, and dating one of his best friends didn’t seem like the best way to go about that.

I wondered if Tate was experiencing the same guilt that I was, along with that undeniable fizzing that was happening somewhere deep in my belly. Even amongst those confusing feelings that were sending my head in a thousand different directions, there was one that I could recognise and identify- the girlish part of me that was delighted that he’d finally kissed me. My crush was now consummated, even if it was in the most middle-school way imaginable.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped away from the door and started to gather up our glasses. I needed to get to bed, and pray my head was clear enough tomorrow to think about this logically. But as I washed up, took off my make-up, and changed into my pyjamas, I couldn’t shake the feeling of that kiss from my brain. Calling Scoop to me, I lay down in my giant double bed, sprawling myself out to stretch out my tired limbs. Turning my head to look at the empty pillow next to me, I couldn’t help but wonder- would it stay empty for long?

When I woke up the next day, my head was swirling- and it wasn’t just the wine. I was still trying to fully get my head around what had happened last night. Had we really…done that? Had he really come back to my apartment like he was in some cheesy rom-com, just to kiss me? The memory of his lips on mine was still seared into my brain, and I brushed my fingers across my mouth, mimicking the feel of his skin against mine. The thought made me shiver. It wasn’t unwelcome.

I sat up, and groaned slightly as my hangover made itself known- it wasn’t terrible, but I was going to need a good few slices of toast to get through my morning’s work. Walking to the kitchen, I reached for glass, filled it with water from the tap, and gulped it straight down. Mmm, that was better- my throat already felt less scratchy than it had when I’d woken up. I decided to push my thoughts about Tate to the back of my head till I had to confront them. It was the strategy I’d been using ever since that moment last night, and it seemed to be working for me so far. I settled in in front of the computer screen, and started my work.

I managed to keep going for a good few hours, my mind working automatically as my fingers whizzed over the keyboard. I was putting together a piece for one of the websites I wrote for, it’s target audience being Navy widows like me. Having to channel the side of my brain that would always be Jake’s widow was difficult, because it was a side of myself I usually tried to shut down, but it provided some serious distraction from the matter at hand. I was starting to cautiously wonder if maybe the kiss last night hadn’t been so ground-shaking after all, when my phone buzzed on my desk next to me. I looked up, and Tate’s name glowed above a message he’d just sent to me. I opened it, sat back in my chair, and scanned the text quickly.

“Hey, hope ur doing ok- not too hungover? Was hoping that we could get together at some point today, just to talk. X”

The kiss at the end of the text was new- he was usually so diligent about keeping our communication purely platonic. Just to talk? I presumed that meant he wanted to discuss that kiss we’d shared. I knew I did too, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready to do it today. Lifting my fingers to the screen, I tapped out my reply.

“Tomorrow, at mine? 7?”

I wanted to keep it on my territory, somewhere that I would be in control, and I never felt safer than when I was here. The phone buzzed in my hand again, and I looked down to see his message agreeing to my suggestion. Okay, now I really was feeling nervous- had we just arranged a date? It certainly felt like we did, and I wasn’t exactly sure how I felt about it. But there was a fluttering down deep in my bones that said it was something I should be looking forward to.

By the time the next evening came, I was ready for him. I had curled out my hair, given myself a facial with all the expensive little beauty testers I picked up from advertisers, and painted my nails. It was exciting and strangely liberating to feel like I was making an effort to see someone. Admitting to myself that I actually wanted to look good for this encounter was the first big step, but once I’d accepted that, the whole thing became kind of…fun. And thrilling. My heart picked up the pace whenever I thought about him, my eyes constantly glancing to the clock to see when he would be over. I had always been terrible at the whole act-like-you-don’t-care school of dating, and I was worried I might scare him off with my intensity. Even if I did, I reasoned with myself, this was all part of getting back in to dating. Even if it made things awkward between me and Tate for a while, I knew that this was what I wanted to do.

By the time seven rolled around, I was sitting nervously on the couch, my ears straining for any indication that he might be getting near. When the doorbell buzzed, I practically launched myself out of my seat, jumping to the door to let him in.

“Tate!” I grinned, as I opened the door and saw him standing behind it. He’d bought another bottle of wine, and I couldn’t help but notice that he was dressed a little smarter than he usually was- his jeans were nicely cut, and his crisp t-shirt hugged his body in all the right places. I tried not to let my mind linger on that too much, and ushered him inside, plucking to bottle of wine from his hands and heading to the kitchen to pour it. Now that he was actually here, in front of me, it all seemed so much more real, and I wasn’t sure if I could handle it. Pouring wine, though? I was the top of my class.

I brought the two glasses through, placing them on my coffee table and sitting on a chair a few feet away from Tate. I wanted to make sure that we had enough space between us to shut down any awkwardness if one person wanted one thing and the other wanted something different. My heart flipped at the prospect. What if he’d just come here to tell me that what happened that was a mistake? He might look tough on the outside, but I knew that Tate was gentleman enough to let a lady down easy if he had to. I prayed that he had better news for me.

“So…you wanted to talk?” I asked, breaking the silence that briefly descended on us. I took a long sip of wine, savouring the burst of flavour over my tongue.

“Um…yeah.” He replied, his voice stilted. He sounded nervous. “I’m pretty sure that you know why I’m here. Right?”

“Is it about…?” I nodded towards the doorway. Tate glanced away from me, embarrassed.

“Yeah, that.”

The silence came between us again, and I felt slightly uncomfortable. I had no idea what to say. I had never been in a situation like this before, how was I supposed to know what you were meant to do?