The Bridge to a Better Life (33 page)

Sure enough, he was halfway to the door with Touchdown when Jordan called out, “Have fun, Ace. Tell Nat baby hi for us.”

Spinning around on his heels, he eyed the bunch. “You all look like a bunch of grinning hyenas.”

“We’re happy for you,” Zack said. “But still, it seems like you should have to sneak out or something. Maybe try the window.” He tapped the face of his watch. “It
is
past curfew.”

“We’re on the first floor, you moron.” He exited the room, smiling.

Even though he was anxious to leave, he walked to the stairwell to check on the boys. While he was certain the chaperones had everything in hand, he felt a strong investment in these kids, in this camp, and he wanted to make sure everything was all right. When he stopped on the second floor, he heard music, laughter, and raised voices. On the third floor, he was delighted to see a makeshift hacky sack game being played in the hall.

Good, everyone was having fun. That’s what camp was all about.

He and Touchdown headed home, or what he now thought of as home. The two-house situation was beginning to seem weirder the closer he and Natalie became. After spending the night with her, he sometimes wanted to destroy the bridge he’d built so he couldn’t go back to his own place in the morning.

He wanted to live with her again, full time. Not shuffle back and forth.

He was feeling a little out of sorts by the time he parked in his garage. Touchdown followed him in the house and immediately went for his water bowl. A shower took off the grime from playing, but it didn’t restore his mood. He’d spent the day ensuring everyone else was having fun, so maybe now
he
needed to have some fun. He was getting too serious about the camp, his future after it, Natalie. Putting too much pressure on himself.

Zack’s joke about climbing out the window to break curfew came back to him, giving him an idea. Natalie’s bedroom was on the second floor of her house. He could climb into
hers.
And give her a little fantasy.

He dug out the Fraser kilt and loose white shirt he’d ordered online a week ago. He figured if wrapping a simple plaid throw around his waist like a kilt was enough to turn Natalie on, how might she react to the real thing? The wool itched against his privates because—of course—he had to go bare-ass naked under this getup to complete the fantasy. The green and navy plaid socks looked ridiculous, so he had to dig out some dress shoes to make it more…presentable. When he was finished, he bypassed the mirror. All that mattered was she thought it was smoking hot.

Grabbing an extension ladder from the garage seemed the wisest course. He hauled it across his yard and the bridge, the kilt chafing his balls, as Touchdown ran along behind him. Knowing Natalie was a creature of habit, he wasn’t surprised to see a few lights on downstairs and one in her bedroom. She was waiting for him in bed, and the thought of that sent a thrill down his spine. He positioned the ladder as close to the house as he could, pressing against her bushes, and extended it to her window.

As he climbed it, an owl hooted in the darkness, making him start. Now he could understand why kids snuck out of their parents’ houses. Of course, this wasn’t his parents’ house, and he was sneaking in, not out, but that was simply semantics. He felt the allure of the dangerous, the forbidden.

He could already imagine the look on Natalie’s face. When he reached her window, he dragged his fingernails against the screen. When she didn’t come to the window, he did it louder. The curtains were closed, so he couldn’t see her. After a few minutes of nothing, he became irritated. How could she not hear him? He rapped on the window. She still didn’t come.

“What in the world are you doing?” he heard a familiar voice ask from below as a flashlight pooled over him.

He turned on the ladder, blinded by the light, as Touchdown gave a happy bark from below. “I’m breaking into your room like a bad kid at camp—or a rogue Highlander. Why aren’t you in there?” he asked in what he believed to be a passable Scottish brogue.

He heard her bawdy laughter crest out. She held the flashlight under her chin, giving herself a scary Jack-O-Lantern face. “Why? Because I heard a weird noise outside, you idiot Highlander, so I came out to investigate.”

He hadn’t thought of that. “Well, go back inside and open your window,” he said in the same passable brogue. Jamie Fraser would be proud. “I’m going to ravish you.”

Even with the glare of the flashlight, he could still see her eyes roll. “You’re
not
serious. Get down from there before you trip on your kilt and fall to the ground.”

He shifted on the ladder to better see her and felt it move an inch. Okay, she had a point. “If you’d only cooperate, lass, I wouldn’t be hanging onto this ladder trying to have a conversation with you.”

“Oh, stop with the Scottish brogue. It’s terrible. And don’t be a jackass. You aren’t going to fit through that window. Your shoulders are too big. Did you even think of that?”

She was dissing her own fantasy? He ground his teeth. “No, I left my tape measure at home,” he said in his normal voice. “Natalie, get in the goddamn house and open your window. I’m trying to be romantic here—in case you haven’t noticed.”

She snorted. “You’re trying to get yourself killed, climbing a ladder in the dark in a kilt. Come on, Touchdown. We are not watching this.”

When she left, he turned back to face her window, hoping she would head upstairs to open it. He eyed the opening. Okay, so she hadn’t been lying. He was going to have a hell of a time getting through her window. The best way would be head first.

So sexy.

This was starting to seem less and less romantic. And to make it worse, his balls still itched.

The curtains flew back so suddenly, and with such force, he jolted in surprise. The ladder shifted again, and he immediately grabbed the sill to steady himself. She yanked up the window and stood glaring at him through the screen.

“I suppose you want me to remove the screen too?” she asked, her mouth twitching like she was fighting a guffaw.

He reached out to feel for the tabs he remembered as part of window installation. “There should be a thingamabob here to pull.”

The lamplight showcased her exasperated face. “These are custom windows designed for security. You can’t remove the screens that easily. If you have a knife on you, Jamie, you can cut through it.”

Like her voice was cutting through him.

“Then you can call the repair man tomorrow and have him install a new one,” she added.

He growled in defeat. “Fine. I’m coming down.”

She let out the sputter of a laugh. “Good. My screen thanks you.”

“And I’ll head home and change,” he said with a sulk.

“Oh, no,” she said stroking her bottom lip. “You can keep that on.”

Now she was excited? Well, he wasn’t. She was ruining his attempt to recreate her fantasy. With every rung his feet descended, his cheeks turned redder with embarrassment. He was never going to live this one down. She was waiting for him at the back door, her arms crossed over her chest. The glee on her face was too much.

“Okay, so I totally suck at sneaking out and being Jamie Fraser,” he said, pushing up his billowy white sleeves.

Blake Cunningham was wearing sleeves that billowed. He could hear Jordan say, “Shut the front door.”

Natalie’s laughter bubbled out as she pointed to his belt buckle. “That’s quite a package you have there, lad.”

He shook his head, and then the anger slipped away and he was laughing with her.

“Wait until I tell the guys about this,” she said between gales. “If only they could see you now. Oh, and your fans. You should have played for the Denver Highlanders.”

“Okay, you’ve made your point. I look ridiculous.” He yanked her to him, and he cursed as his sleeves billowed again. “Don’t you dare tell anyone! I should get points for trying.”

“Maybe. So far your execution has been…less than impressive. ”

He smirked and lifted her up and over his shoulder like a sack of flour. She squealed, fighting him for show, and mostly giggling.

“I’m about to show you my skills at execution. Good night, Touchdown.”

The dog went to his doggie bed as Blake climbed the stairs with Natalie. After shutting the door to her bedroom, he set her down on the bed.

“I’m still going to ravish you even though this outfit has chafed my balls raw.”

“Ah…you poor baby.” Chuckling still, she sat on the edge and pointed to the window. “Why don’t you close the curtains so you can ravish me without the owls watching?”

“Are you ever going to stop teasing me about this?” he asked.

“No,” she said, and since she was tugging off her robe, he didn’t care. “You’re never going to live this down. What if you had fallen and hurt yourself? Can you imagine the gossip? Former Super Bowl star Blake Cunningham breaks leg executing an
Outlander
fantasy.”

She had a point.

She wasn’t wearing anything underneath her robe. His mouth pretty much went dry the instant she pulled it off. She stretched out on the bed, his every fantasy, Highlander or no.

“You were worth it, even if I failed.”

Her blue eyes darkened. “Take off your clothes. Don’t you think you’ve wasted enough time?”

He eyed the clock. It
was
after midnight, and her alarm would go off at six. “Taking off my clothes now, ma’am.”

Stripping before her was exciting and arousing, even if he did want to scratch his privates in relief as the kilt dropped to the floor. Her gaze ran over him.

“Turn around please,” she said in a playful tone, and now he could feel the fantasy building between them, hot and consuming.

He complied, his muscles tightening, readying. Before he knew it, she was right behind him, her hands caressing his butt. His skin caught fire as she moved down to stroke his right thigh.

“You still have the best legs on the planet,” she told him, leaning down and kissing the length of his hamstring.

“The better to showcase in my kilt,” he replied, his voice husky, making her laugh again. But he didn’t try to use a Scottish brogue. He’d learned his lesson there.

Her lips continued their trek to the back of his knee and then cruised over to his left leg. Every touch hardened him to the point of pain, and when she kissed his right butt cheek, he hissed out a long breath.

“Are you torturing me for trying to break into your house like a roving Highlander?” he asked.

“You
did
scare me. It’s sometimes a little harrowing to be this far out of town.”

He didn’t want to remind her he was next door if she needed anything. No, he wanted to be right here, all the time, checking on noises in the house like he used to do when she’d hear something. Or killing bugs for her. She hated to kill her own bugs.

“How about I show you why I donned a scratchy kilt and hauled a clunky extension ladder across about three acres in the middle of the night?”

“Not your best plan,” she said, kissing his lower back. “But you did get points for the Highlander costume. You haven’t done anything this crazy since you talked me into having sex with you in the laundry room at my mother’s house at Christmas.”

That
had
been forbidden and more delicious than her mother’s honey baked ham. “Thank God she was doing the laundry that day, or I swear they would have heard you.”

“Me? You make as much noise as I do.”

When her hand slid around to his front and grabbed him, she more than proved her point when he groaned.

“See.”

And she just had to rub it in. That’s why he loved her.

He slid his hands over hers, caressing her wrists as she continued to stroke his body. When he arched his back, she finally let him go and turned him around to face her. She sat back on her knees at the edge of the bed, a gleam in her eyes.

“Had enough?” she asked.

“Not likely. Lie back.”

She did, and he covered her with his body, resting his weight on his elbows.

“You didn’t kiss me when I got home,” he said, stroking her cheek.

“Oops. Sorry. I was distracted by a clumsy Highlander intruder.”

“Smartass,” he said before taking her mouth in a deep, wet kiss that had them both breathing hard.

Her breasts were masterpieces, so he touched them next. The long length of her spine arched off the mattress as he kissed them. She rubbed the heel of her leg over his calf, telling him she was more than ready for him. But still he detoured, journeying lower to the very heart of her. He worshipped her there, and she came apart under his mouth.

Before the waves had smoothed out, he rolled on a condom and thrust inside her. She arched into him, her passion taking her higher. Every muscle under him strained again, and he met her tension stroke for stroke until they both flew, letting their releases wash over them.

After he’d cleaned up, he turned out the light and rolled over to face her. His eyes adjusted until he could see the outline of her face on the pillow next to him.